#And I decided to look up the AU fic I wrote for it early last year

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

The tragic experience of a fic writer getting to the end of an old WIP they've written, finding that they're enjoying it immensely, before realizing that if they want more, they'll have to write it themselves. Absolute misery. 😔

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Off the Page 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: skinny!Steve

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You take a page out of Maria’s book and sleep on the train. The night at the hotel wasn’t long enough. By the time you ate, you were too tired to enjoy the fancy tub and your alarm woke you well before you were ready. As your stop comes, you’re still groggy and barely ready for your evening meet and greet. 

Isn’t this the dream? Running yourself ragged as a bestselling author? Seeing all the fans who love the words that you wrote? Who see themselves in the characters you created? So much a dream that you feel as if you’re falling asleep again. 

Wake up! You splash water over your face in the bookstore bathroom. It’s not glamourous. You have the small space to refresh before you face the masses. You hoped for a smaller crowd given the time of day and the lesser known location. How wrong you are; you can hear the buzz of fans through the walls. 

“Hey,” Maria enters without knocking. She’s like that. You and your agent have gotten rather cozy in those last weeks. A bit too much at times. “Almost ready?” 

“Yeah, sorry, I... is this blouse okay?” You ask as you touch the satin, patterned with violets, “I don’t even know why I bought this?” 

“It looks fine,” she assures, “you’re not a writer if you’re not at least a little eccentric, right?” 

“Oh, and what about book agents?” You challenge, “are they all so stylish?’ 

“Of course. We’re the face that sells the tour. All you have to do is smile and sacrifice your hand to carpal tunnel syndrome,” she teases, “just you wait until the interview. That's the heavy lifting.” 

“Interview?” You check yourself one last time in the mirror. 

“Didn’t I mention? The local station wants a sit down before we’re off tomorrow,” she explains, “I said yes. It’s a decent check and good business. Any publicity is good publicity. Publisher signed off on it too so... can’t back out.” 

“Oh, and you were going to tell me when?” 

“Right now,” she shrugs, “come on, your adoring fans are waiting for their elf queen.” 

“Oof, don’t,” you cringe, “you make it sound so lame.” 

“If it was lame, you wouldn’t be here,” she asserts. 

“Suppose you’re right,” you pack your things up into your bag and shove it in the corner. “Alright, I’m ready.” 

You follow her into the hall and through to the main area of the bookstore. It’s been closed early for the event, a meet and greet exclusive to those who claimed the limited one hundred tickets for sale. Each ticket includes the cost of a free signed edition and bookmark. Funny to think you’d once been on the other side of one of these things. The eager beaver reader aspiring to be the star author. 

As you come into sigh of the audience, they cheer. You’re still not used to that either. You wave and smile out at them. The moderator, an employee of the bookshop chain, calls for their attention over the microphone and introduces you. There’s another softer round of applause. 

You take your seat on the stool and let out a breath. You start with the reading. You try not to do the same chapter, instead cycling through your favourites. Some you even know by rote now. 

Then comes the Q and A session. You know all the answers. You find it’s always the same questions. Besides, you created this world, these characters, if there isn’t anything written, then you get to decide. 

A group a giggly women finish asking their questions about the ‘rumoured’ sequel to which you give your PR friendly deflection. After them, you wait for the next person to appear. There’s some scuffling at the microphone as they lower it. You wait patiently and smile at the slender blond man. He’s vaguely familiar. 

“Hi, um, my question is, whether Emeris is truly the promised knight or if he was just in the right place at the right time?” 

You nod as you listen, your thoughts whirring. It’s not an entirely out-there question. It isn’t what he’s asking that gives you pause. You swear you’ve seen him before. 

“Well, we can’t know for sure. I like to think of the promised knight as not a specific person fated from birth but rather a possibility for all. The promised knight is the one who can step up in that time of need and do what it is needed,” you explain. “I hope that makes sense.” 

The man doesn’t speak right away, himself stalling before he can respond, “yes, I guess it does. Thank you.” 

He lingers at the microphone for a moment as he watches you. He clutches a worn copy to his chest tightly. That’s familiar too. 

Strange. You're sure there’s lots of people who double dip. You have to admit you did it once yourself. Sometimes you just need that thrill.  

The blond man steps back and lets the next person ahead of him but he doesn’t go far. He stays close to the queue of people and you feel him staring you down. Everyone is watching you but his gaze just feels so much more intense. You do your best to focus on the person at the microphone. 

Several others ask their questions or just give their praise. The man remains. You can’t shake the sense of him. He’s like a shadow. You don’t know why you’re so aware of him. 

Finally, you finish up and it’s time to announce the special prize. It’s a raffle set up by ticket number. The package isn’t anything special; a collector’s edition, a mug, and some pens that look like quills. The moderator brings up a box filled with slips and you reach inside. You read out the number and the crowd mutters. 

“Me,” a deep voice rings out, a hand popping up from lower down. The blond man steps forward and waves his ticket, “it’s mine.” 

Strange coincidence. You keep your smile plastered on. You don’t need another Maria lecture about your tired moping. You’re handed the prize basket and you carry it down to meet the man. 

“Congratulations,” you say as he meets you at the lip of the low platform. 

“Thank you,” he beams up brightly, “it’s nice to see you again.” 

You try not to show your surprise, “yeah, uh... you too.” You don’t know what else to say. You don’t remember exactly where you saw him and definitely not a name; you hear too many of those to keep track. 

“Really?” He breathes. 

“Er, enjoy your prize. Thank you so much for coming.” 

“Of course. Always. Anytime,” he avows shakily. “’To you, my queen, I bid my blood and breath.’” 

You hesitate. That’s from the book. Emeris proclaims it to the elvish protagonist on her quest to reclaim her stolen homeland. It’s flattering yet slightly unsettling to have it recited to you. 

“Have a good night,” you say gently and turn to walk back across the platform. You’re tired, you need to get out of here. 

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it Friday

Guess, who's back? enemies to lovers singers au!!! snippet which goes right before the very first scene I wrote for this fic Buck and Lucy bestiesm is that we all need for life (yes, I ship platonic Luck)

Buck is barely able to open his eyes, hating with all his soul the person who decided it’s fun to call him too early. Quick time check tells him it’s almost midday, but he went to sleep at 4 in the morning being caught up in the book about Greek culture he found to give more facts to Chris as the boy was getting interested in this topic recently.

“Lucy, I love you, but right now I plan the worst and most painful ways to kill you,” Buck's hoarse and grumpy voice doesn’t cause a loud laugh from the blonde, which always happens when Lucy calls him to irritate him a little.

“Buck,” Lucy’s voice sounds awful. Like she is almost crying.  Lucy never sounds like it. She is the strongest and sassiest person Buck knows, which was the reason he chose her as his manager the moment 118 found him. “Buck, there’s no way to sugar coat it for you,” Lucy takes a little pause and breaks Buck’s heart, knocking all the air out of his lungs. “Your asshole ex just outed you to the world. He made a big YouTube video about how he dated the new big pop star and heartthrob, Buck Buckley, showed a bunch of your photos with him, photos where you two kiss under mistletoe on the evening we met, for example. He also tried to make you look like an ignorant jerk who broke up with him because you got super popular and rich, conveniently forgetting to say how you lived almost for a year in Texas after your breakup and went viral only after this year,” Lucy speaks with such an anger Buck can’t help but feel how tears runs his cheeks, because Lucy is so protective over him, not just his career. 

“He posted it last night and now it is trending everywhere. I’m sorry. I know you weren't ready to be out to the world. Hell, some of the people close to you don't know because you prefer not to come out. There’s nothing we can do now. Except try to control the fallout,” Lucy sounds so genuinely sad and caring and Buck just cries more, not even knowing what he can say to her. “Hen and I are going to have the meeting today later, Bobby will be here too. But you stay at home and go full close up. Do not answer your phone if you don’t know the number. Do not go anywhere. I’ll call you later. Maddie will come soon to check on you,” Buck hums in the sight that he understood, not that he would even try to do it anyway, he feels like he was put under concrete, crushing him to the ground and preventing him from breathing. Lucy ends the call, but Buck can’t move.

He holds the phone near his ear looking, almost without blinking, at the white ceiling of his house and tries to understand what has he done to Ian, except not staying after he found out this jerk was fucking with his best friend, behind Buck’s back.

tagging @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @ronordmann @exhuastedpigeon @evanbegins @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @pirrusstuff @aspecbuddie @anakinfallen @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @hoodie-buck @housewifebuck @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @jobairdxx @jamespearce9-1-1 @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @callmenewbie @cowboybuckleys @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @nmcggg @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @elvensorceress @andrewblur @911onabc @caroandcats

[haeigoo]

Found You (ZCL)

ღ pairing: idol!chenle x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun & jisung)

ღ description: based off a funny chenji incident

ღ word count: 1,562

ღ genre: established relationship, SLIGHT angst & fluff

ღ warnings: kissing, suggestive, swearing

ღ playlist: perfume by nct dojaejung, plot twist by niki, ours by taylor swift & when i met you by apo hiking society

ღ author's note: this is my first official fic that i wrote in years. and its all thanks to my love @lowkeyjaemle for being a huge help in the making of this au, go read her works HERE!

DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ!

You have been dating Chenle for seven months now and it is no surprise to you that your anniversary happens to fall on the same day as their third group comeback, ‘ISTJ.’ Both their managers and fans have not been so forgiving of you ever since your relationship came into fruition. Several complaints made their way to the company of Chenle allegedly taking sick days and leaving rehearsals early to be with you. It got worse when stolen photos of the two of you circulated online like wildfire on the day that he chose to ditch schedules. After New Years’ Day, the management released a statement about enforcing restrictions of all artists under the label from engaging with individuals outside professional relationships to avoid further mishaps that may hinder the flow of the business. This gut-wrenching news isolated you both but you knew exactly what you were getting into when you decided to join him in the public eye.

When the morning of your anniversary came, you were already used to waking up to cold mornings without Chenle. He trusted you enough to look after Daegal while he is at work but not even her presence could cheer you up. You only got to communicate with him through calls and last night, he had reassured you that his group was finishing up. Chenle was staring close through the screen, grinning while he reiterates how much he misses you. You let out a huge sigh before puckering your lips together to say goodbye as you ended the call.

You got up from the master bed and shimmied yourself up to look nice today. As you were showering, something at the back of your mind was eating out at you – How will this be any different from the last? What if I’m just another lost cause?

When you reached over to your closet, you saw the lustrous baby blue Sunday dress that you have been saving up to wear for weeks as it paired neatly with your black combat boots and faux leather handbag that Chenle got you last Christmas. You rushed downstairs to leave the house when suddenly your phone vibrated. It was a text from Chenle, he will unfortunately be working late tonight to make adjustments for the shoot. For a moment, you stood there frozen and stiff as your face dropped and your left hand made a fist. This always happens, you told yourself.

You caught yourself falling into the depths of despair since today was clearly a special occasion. You immediately locked the door behind you and walked outside with a stain in your heart. The cool breeze brushed through the locks of your hair, in the hopes of soothing your troubled soul when you spotted a perfume shop just around the corner. You were greeted by a variety of scents as you gracefully walked through the door of this well-lit establishment. After countless browsing, a Myrrh & Tonka cologne from Jo Malone caught your eye and took a few puffs from the sample available.

You were not notorious for using fragrances and Chenle knew that best. But the thought of wrapping yourself in a fresh bouquet of aromas unfamiliar to Chenle would surely have him by surprise. You picked up a piece and headed towards the cashier whose smile was glistening through the room.

          “You find everything to your liking?” Jaehyun asked softly.

          “Yup!” You nodded.

          “You know, a whiff of this sensational notes of almond and vanilla will have anyone under your spell. May I ask, who’s the lucky man?”

          “Zhong Chenle. You couldn’t miss even if you tried, Jaehyun.”

          “Right. Well, tell him I said hi!” He chuckled as you bid you farewell.

You left the store feeling accomplished when you gazed upon the vast, hazy sky around you and knew by then, it was already sundown. You had called a taxi and dashed through the car door to hopefully catch Chenle still at the building. The driver had dropped you off just outside when you felt a shiver down your spine.

You took a deep breath as you stepped through the main entrance when your phone started buzzing, an incoming call from Chenle. You shook off your nerves and ignored the needy hollers of your boyfriend. You exited from the elevator and sprinted towards the practice room to find the lawless space empty with plastic bottles and chips scattered messily around the floor. After some time passed, you caught a glimpse of his tumbler across from you and that was the information you needed.

You went to check on the bathroom only to see from your peripheral, a drowsy Chenle with his head buried in his knees. You crouched down as you elevated his face to meet yours when you realized how droopy his eyes were from today’s schedule.

          “I’m here, baby.” You exclaimed as you rubbed sweat off his forehead.

          “(Y/N)? I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t answer me all day! What’s going with you?” Chenle blurted out.

          “Chenle, this whole fiasco got to me! Being away from you was torture itself. So, I came by to surprise you.”

          “Baby, having you in my life was the biggest plot twist I could ever ask for. I would replay the very first moment my heart belonged to you.”

          “Have you been drinking? I’ve never heard those words before especially coming from you. Well, you better get up before anyone sees you like this!”

When you tapped his shoulders signaling him to stand up, he swiftly grabbed your wrist in lightning speed and dragged you to one of the stalls. Chenle abruptly shuts the door behind him which made a loud thud as he is brimming with excitement. He sits on the toilet seat and spreads his legs like a king on the throne while checking you from top to bottom. Clicking his tongue and smacking his thigh, encouraging you to delicately plop yourself onto him. Chenle had that smug expression wearing nothing but his black sweatpants, GSW T-shirt and white rubber shoes.

          “Chenle, you’ll get your ass beat if your manager storms in on us!” You said incredulously.

          “Baby girl, they’re never gonna find out because I know how to shut that beautiful mouth of yours.” Chenle remarked confidently with a smirk.

          “This is serious, dude. I’m not taking my clothes off, you maniac!”

          “Ugh, you’re no fun. Just sit on my lap. I need you close, baby.”

You diligently abide by his request and the next thing you know, Chenle’s hands are in between your thighs which makes you quiver. You promptly frowned at him, refusing to let him near you when all of a sudden, he took one hand away to cup your cheeks and pulled you in a deep, passionate yet sloppy kiss. The hand then travelled down your neck where he tightens his grip, making you scoff out a little cough. The moment you parted with his lips to catch your breath you throw your head back as you were holding onto his shoulders for support when he took notice of your scent.

          “Baby, you smell so fucking good. What’d you put on?”

          “Jo Malone perfume I bought from Jaehyun. I’ll explain later. You’ve a lot of catching up to do, mister.”

          “Whatever you say, princess.” Chenle uttered under his breath as he flashed his signature crescent moon smile.

The further your bodies were intertwined, the more he got captivated by your scent. You completely lost yourself under your boyfriend’s touch when you hear footsteps outside the stall. Stomping loudly towards your direction, your eyes widen and hid your face onto his chest. When you hear the twist of the knob turn, you had already hoped it was his manager to usher you out of this hellhole. Instead, you glanced up to see a tall man hovering the both of you with a confused look plastered on his face. It was Park Jisung, all dressed in black ever so handsomely.

          “Sorry, I didn’t know this was occupied. Hi (Y/N)! It’s been so long.” Jisung said as he scratches the back of his scalp.

          “Hey, it was a surprise for this guy!” You stated as you tilt your head.

          “Excuse me! Jisung, do you mind?” Chenle vocalized, motioning his hands together in a brisk fashion because he was already vexed at his best friend for walking in on you two.

          “Yeah, I’m leaving. Bye (Y/N), it was really nice seeing you again!” Jisung responded with a playful wink as he closed the door.

You could sense Chenle fuming behind you, arguably pissed off from Jisung’s remark as you played along. Chenle’s cheeks had never gotten this red before, you could spot his furrowed brows and face flushed when you turned around to see him pouting his lips. This was one of the few times you ever saw your boyfriend sulky and admittedly enough, you found it cute.

          “Aww, why the long face?” You said teasingly, pinching his plum cheeks.

          “Because you seem to like Jisung more than me.” Chenle muttered defeatedly, shifting his gaze and not meeting yours.

          “When we locked eyes for the first time, my heart knew what I needed and it was you. In a million timelines, I’d choose you. Chenle, you’re my north star.” You lovingly affirmed his tense face as you leaned closer and planted one last kiss.

[vxqyz]

"To the Night we Wed." TrueformSukuna x inexperienced!fem!reader Heian era AU, 4.1k words

A/N: I've never written a fic before and I've never written anything professionally on tumblr... please forgive me if it's not formatted as you're used too! I have no photos to add or how to correctly break the paragraphs/storyline up. Also, there's a part where it goes into depth abt the wedding..! Don't mind it, I added it to make it seem more legit if you get what i mean. @sukunamylovexoxo thank you for listening to me complain while I wrote this :)!

Warning: smut in detail!! minors plz dni! hateful father, and strange language, just in case you don't like either of those!

You are a girl in the Heian era who recently came of age from an honored clan of powerful sorcerers. Unfortunately for you, your cursed energy is extremely low, however not low enough for you to have gained a heavenly pact. You are extremely useless to your clan, being born a woman already ruined your chances at making it far in life. Your father and the head of the clan, your grandfather, were known for marrying off the women if they were anywhere near as useless as you. On your 19th birthday, your wedding night, a monstrous man was sitting on the bed waiting for you. 

It was a day like any other day, simply learning more calligraphy and practicing your handwriting. There wasn’t much more for you to do besides clean and look pretty. you knew everyone in your clan, besides your younger and older sisters, hated you. You were a disgrace to them. Your father came from a long line of powerful sorcerers with extremely high amounts of cursed energy, your mother was an average woman with an average amount of cursed energy from a neighboring clan. It was shocking how a single child could diminish a clan’s reputation. 

you heard a knock on your thin door. “Excuse me, y/n, your father wishes to speak with you…” It was one of the housemaids. Your father was coming to you? Every morning you’d greet him and receive nothing back. What could be so important? “Please, come in.” you timidly responded, putting away your calligraphy equipment. The door slid open, and your father slowly entered your room. He made a disgusted face- as if looking at you was bad for his health. It hurt. “Hello, y/n.” He coldly greeted you. You understand you’re useless to him, but he could at least pretend he loved you. “I was talking to your grandfather about you and what to do with you. He suggested that we marry you off.” He paused. “I accepted the offer,” He mentioned with indifference. “You’re getting married in two weeks.” Married? In two weeks? You could feel your heart shatter. “Ah…” you quietly let out. “Who will I be wed to?” You were trying to keep a smile on your face. You think he knew it was a front. “His name is Ryomen Sukuna. I’m surprised. Out of all your sisters, he picked you.” He scoffed as he turned around. “I expect you to start working on your appearance. I wouldn’t want to marry a pig like you.” He left your room. This was the way your conversations would usually go, however rare they were. He couldn’t help but insult you. You were left alone with your thoughts as soon as he left your room. You turned eighteen last year. In two weeks, it would be your birthday. Your father didn’t know that, of course. Out of your five sisters and two brothers, it was hard to keep track of birth dates. But you knew he never bothered to remember yours.

–

Your daily routine usually consisted of waking up at 5:00 in the morning and getting out of bed to eat the breakfast your maid had prepared for you. This week was different. You woke up at 4:50 and noticed your breakfast wasn’t at your side. You were a little bit shocked, even when you woke up as early as 4:15, there would still be breakfast ready for you. You got up and decided it would be best not to think about it, after all, you have more important things to do. Your father was so sure that no one would want you as their bride, that he refused to allow the maids to teach you how to be a proper wife. He recently ordered about five of our maids to teach you the correct way to address your soon to be husband, wifely duties, and activities such as washing clothes and cleaning. This was something you weren’t looking forward to. you were previously refused such education since your father treated you like the plague. He had no intention of allowing you to touch anything that didn’t belong to you, believing you would take away his or your siblings' cursed energy. It was a ridiculous and irrational fear that made you realize you would always be hated by him.

As you were changing out of your sleeping attire, you heard your father’s footsteps walking towards your room. You hear a slight knock. “Please wait a moment!” You blurt out, and quickly return to changing into your daily dress, a simple kimono-esque outfit. “You may come in.” you reassure him. He slowly opens the door and stays about 15 feet away from you. “Ryomen Sukuna will be visiting you today.” He said in a professional way- an uncommon tone. “Be ready in three hours. I expect you to look the best you can.” He closed your door and walked away. Your future husband? Is he truly that eager to meet his wife-to-be? 

–

It was half past seven, twenty minutes before Sukuna was supposed to meet you. Your maids had dressed you in a somewhat formal kimono, more flashy than your daily clothes, but less fancy than a ceremonial outfit. Your silky hair had been done into a lovely bun with unique flowers tied into it. You looked beautiful. You patiently sat on your knees waiting in the main room of your family’s home. The open space terrified you. Large pillars holding up the roof on each side of you, beautiful paintings on each wall and tatami mats below you. You felt nauseous. It’s probably because I'm anxious about meeting Sukuna. You rationalize with yourself. You let your thoughts run wild- what type of man could he be? A stoic man with a large frame? A diligent sorcerer focused on the wellbeing of his clan? Or maybe an old man simply moving from wife to wife? Your head was starting to hurt. All of this thinking only stressed you out.

Minutes pass, and your anxiety is increasing. You could feel yourself growing tired, this waiting has made you quite bored. As you’re slowly drifting to sleep, you hear the sound of a door opening- is he here? You quickly open your eyes and sit up straight. Your father rushed to greet him- blocking Sukuna from your view. However, you could see short pink hair, sleeves, and a spear. This was confusing. Who walks around with a spear? You ask yourself, still unable to see all of Sukuna. After about thirty seconds of frantic voices, your father moves to the side of him. You’re greeted with a large man, at least seven feet tall. You quickly move your eyes around to investigate him more- and see a strange thing on his face. Is that wood..? With eyes on it? You pondered, unable to remove your gaze from him. The eyes blink. A wave of fear is shot throughout your whole body. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before you return to examine him. You see increasingly concerning things- he has four eyes. On the right side, his face consists of a strange wooden textured… second face? And on the left, a normal human face- ignoring the fourth eye. You move your eyes down to recognize he’s not wearing a shirt- that's when you notice his markings. Previously, you were too appalled by everything else to see the markings on his face. He had markings on his chest too. You noticed he was wearing baggy pants, tightened around his waist with a black ribbon. You couldn’t see his arms- they were covered by the large and loose top he was wearing. 

You finally stopped inspecting him and stood up. He walked over to you where a low table sat in between the both of you, with a beautiful tea set laying in the middle. You bow as a form of respect and sit back down. He doesn’t say anything and takes a seat. Upon closer scrutiny, you notice his arms are abnormally thick. This concerned you. The more you looked at him, the more terrified you became. As you were sitting there and waiting for anyone to speak, you ascertained that he has four arms. Four arms… four… arms..? You panicked. At this point, you couldn’t stop shaking. Your whole body was having a reaction of pure terror. This man is a monster. A simple glance at him could cause anyone to convulse and pass away. “H-Hello, Ryomen Sukuna… It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say with a shaky voice, your attempt at sounding smooth proved fruitless. He slowly looked up at you. The roles were reversed. Instead of your eyes on him, his eyes were scanning you- everywhere. “The painting your father showed me wasn’t accurate.” He finally growled, sounding a bit disappointed. You could feel your heart squeeze- even your future husband doesn’t like you.

You could feel his red eyes staring at you, your face flushed from the overwhelming emotions you’re experiencing. Your father, who was in the room with you and sitting on your side of the table, decided to speak up. “So, Ryomen Sukuna, I apologize for not asking you earlier, But is there a reason you chose y/n instead of my five other daughters?” He inquired, basically rubbing it in your face that you were the worst choice. You glanced upwards with a slight smile, and noticed Sukuna was shaking his head. “I chose y/n purely because I wanted to.” He said bluntly. He was so straight forward. Your father looked like he wanted to attack him. “Any particular reason?” He prodded Sukuna. You had a feeling that wasn’t the best idea, considering how fierce he looked. Sukuna let out a sigh and stared at your father as if he was planning out your father’s murder in his head. He adjusted himself and sat in a more comfortable position. “She looked pretty in the painting.” He once again bluntly responded with a dull expression. “So does this mean she doesn’t look as beautiful as you were expecting her to?” Your father questioned, basically on the edge of his seat. He couldn’t take this anticipation. He wanted Sukuna to admit that you’re hideous. “No. Although the painting isn’t accurate to her actual appearance, she’s still beautiful.” He says with a straight face, almost like what he said was scripted. You looked over to see your father’s face. He looked extremely angry. 

After your first meeting with Sukuna, the next week was extremely dull. You were constantly learning new things about being a wife, and the possibilities of copulation. Since you were always kept in the house, never being allowed to leave the courtyard, you didn’t know much about relationships. Besides familial connections, you haven’t been exposed to much else. You never got to see what marriage is like due to your mother’s death shortly after giving birth to you. Even then, none of your siblings got married off as quickly as you did, so you were too young to understand what marriage was anyway. Your maids were kind enough to share their experiences with their husbands, letting you know what each of them liked. You felt happy that they were teaching you all of this important information, but you didn’t think they knew you were getting married to an anomaly like Sukuna. One week away from your wedding day.

–

Each day was passing slower than the next. The sun rose at 4:00 in the morning and you awoke an hour later. You would space out during your lessons, only thinking about Sukuna. You hated to admit it but- he was attractive. Albeit his second set of everything, he still had qualities that made him extremely handsome. His eyes, on the left side of his face, were stunning. They were a lovely red, not too saturated that they looked like rubies, but not too dark that they looked dark brown. They were a perfect mix of light and dark- like the color of blood. Each time he stared at you at your first interaction was filled with a certain type of yearning. You couldn’t understand what he wanted, but you could tell he wanted something. His muscles were chiseled and firm, as if he had no body fat whatsoever, and his tall frame made you feel a certain emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You loved his beautiful hair, a lovely pink that could only be found on tulips. And his markings, his lovely markings. Those are what intrigued you the most- after his four arms, four eyes and two faces, you just couldn’t understand how they were on him. Were they ink? Was he born with them? He drove you crazy, there were so many things you didn’t know about him.

Days passed and your birthday finally arrived. You feel you’ve learned enough, and you’re prepared to be a dutiful wife. Maids are all around you, getting you dressed in an intricate and traditional gown. It was strikingly red- just like his eyes. You felt a strange sensation in your lower stomach, a fluttering phenomenon. This has been happening to you recently whenever you thought of Sukuna, and it confused you. But it made you feel warm inside, a comforting sensation, so you were fine with the occasional flutter-feeling. While in your room, you could hear the chaos outside. Your younger siblings were eagerly awaiting to see you in your gown, and your two older sisters were helping you. This was the one time your father allowed your siblings to be near you. You considered this to be the happiest and most eventful day of your life. Although your siblings were excited, your father wasn’t. He was making sure that your wedding wasn’t as extravagant as your other siblings’ weddings were. Despite the fact you were marrying Ryomen Sukuna, a rumored mass murderer, which you had no idea about, your father only cared about making your life a little bit worse each second.

After going through all of the formalities of a wedding, such as greeting guests, paintings, and feasting, it was time for the actual ceremony. You were sitting in a room with Sukuna in your extremely beautiful kimono, while he was wearing a black kimono- however, nothing was covering his chest. You were observing your family walk onto the isle on the left side, each of them taking a seat on the left side. At the same time, you noticed no one was walking on the left side- the side Sukuna’s family was supposed to walk on. You were confused, and wanted to ask him, but decided it’d be best if you didn’t question it. Once your family is finally sitting down, a lovely shinto maiden comes into the room. “Y/n, Sukuna, please follow me and allow me to lead you in.” She said with a polite smile and a bow. You get up and slowly follow her, with Sukuna to the right of you. Once you’ve reached the entrance, a priest calls upon the benevolent spirits to bless and purify you and Sukuna. Sukuna makes a faint scoff and ignores the priest's actions. After the priest purifies both of you, he starts a ritual prayer to announce to the deities that he seeks protection and blessing for the both of you. Your family stands and bows. After everyone is seated, you and Sukuna complete the sankon-no-gi, despite his reluctance. A shinto maiden enters the room and performs a dance as an offering to the gods. Once she’s completed the dance, you and Sukuna make your way to the altar where you will read your vows. His vows sound fake and heartless, but you add your name to the end to show that your vows are both ‘heartfelt’. After offering the Tamagushi to the gods, you and Sukuna exchange rings. Your ring is a lovely silver with diamonds encased in it, and a dazzling ruby right in the middle. Sukuna’s ring is a normal silver ring with streaks of ruby. It’s hard to imagine how these were made. Finally, you complete the last few steps of the ceremony. Your father and Sukuna both pushed for no after party, no sort of casual party, since the only attendees would be your family. At this point, the wedding is over, you and Sukuna are ushered to your room. You couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

–

Sukuna walks into your room first, his arms crossed. You slowly follow him and shut the door behind you. Once you turn around, you see Sukuna sitting on your bed. It’s that feeling again. After hearing all of your maids’ stories with their husbands, you couldn’t help but imagine such actions with Sukuna. You felt an unfamiliar throbbing in between your thighs. You couldn’t understand what was happening to you. Sukuna just stared at you for a while. “Come here.” He said with a bit of a commanding tone. You practically waddle over to him- not only is the Kimono difficult to walk in, this strange sensation makes you want to avoid rubbing your legs together. Sukuna easily slips off his kimono, revealing his four arms and his magnificent markings that make your heart race. He leans over and wraps you in his arms. It’s warm. He looks up at you. You recognize that look. He wants something, and you think you know what that something is. You slowly embrace his hug and sit there for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your mind is racing about what to say. You can’t properly convey what you’re feeling, and nor can you act on your desires. The most you can do is hug him at this very moment. Eventually, he lets go. You’re confused for a split second until he easily throws you onto the bed. You were still in your kimono, so movement was difficult for you. Sukuna didn’t care, he tore it off of you, thankfully without actually ripping it. You were exposed. Your makeshift bra that didn’t look too fancy, only functional, and your panties, average and nothing too extraordinary, were the only things left covering you. You hid your face with your hands out of pure embarrassment. You didn’t know how to react.

 Despite your relatively useless attempts at self defense against humiliation, Sukuna grabs your hands and puts them over your head. His hands were abnormally large, just like everything else about him. He was scanning you all over, your slim figure, your hips, your covered but obviously perfect breasts. He still had three arms he could use. This time, he actually tore off your bra and panties. You were laying on your bed, fully exposed to a man you just met two weeks ago and just got married to. You could see the sweat forming everywhere on Sukuna. Neither of you spoke any words. Not only were you too afraid, you just didn’t know what to say. Sukuna, on the other hand, was too focused on trying not to hurt your much smaller body. He kept biting his lower lip, most likely as a way to keep himself in check. Watching him like this made the throbbing return again. You could feel some sort of liquid seeping out of you ever so slowly. You noticed an unfamiliar bulge on the lower half of Sukuna. Out of pure curiosity you picked up your leg and poked it with your foot. His face changed with little delay. It looked a bit like he was in pain… You didn’t understand. You didn’t have much time to react before he dove his face onto yours, his mouth on your mouth. Is this kissing? One of the maids mentioned it. You didn’t know why, but… it filled you with a sort of satisfaction you’ve never felt before. You tried reciprocating the kiss, only for you to be an absolute amateur. Sukuna pulls away and takes a few deep breaths. “You’re horrible at this.” He whispered with a whine, regretting the fact that he pulled away from you. He instantly went back to kissing you, despite your lack of experience. Your hands were still above your head, so you had nothing you could do to defend yourself from any possible moves Sukuna might make. He started to softly grope your breasts, eventually evolving into him using two more hands to play with your nipples. You couldn’t think properly, this was too much stimulation for you. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, so to you, Sukuna was extremely skilled. He still had one free hand just resting on your hips. While he was greedily kissing you, as if you’d run away, his hand slithered closer between your thighs. He starts to rub where the throbbing originated. You practically started melting. You didn’t know how Sukuna was holding up, but you assumed he wasn’t feeling anywhere near as good as you were. And your assumption was correct. Along with the greedy face chewing, he was hard, and he could barely stand it anymore.

 He pulled away and quit rubbing you, using that hand to pull out- something you’ve never seen in your life. It was sort of scary, but before you could oppose anything, he shoved it inside of you, causing you to let out a loud moan of pain and.. Pleasure? Your ears start to ring ever so slightly, and Sukuna starts mumbling, intermittently interrupted with panting. You maneuver your head around to see what he was doing, and noticed- there were two? Two of those ungodly things? Your head was spinning, but for some ridiculous reason, it made you want him even more. All of the stories your maids told you were running through your head right now. But you were confused about one thing- why he wasn’t moving. You were concerned for him, this monster, but you needed to know if he was ok. “S-Sukuna..” You cautiously address. You could barely talk, you felt.. full. “Are you ok..?” you asked with a concerned look on your face. He doesn’t answer you. He just stares at you, heavily breathing with eyes he could barely keep open. He lets go of your wrists and puts two hands underneath your back, pulling you to his chest. He was still inside of you, this time slowly moving. You could feel it hit as deep as when he shoved it in. Each thrust of his made your mind go blank. You could hear him praising you, something along the lines of: “You’re holding up so well for being a virgin..” That was an unfamiliar word. He continued to thrust into you, each thrust getting more and more frantic as time went by. He let go of you and put your back on the bed once more, allowing him to move much more easily. He was going in a relatively rhythmic way, increasing his speed over time. “Fuck…” He moaned, pushing his dick deeper inside you with each movement. He was desperate for you. He’s acting like he’s been abstaining from doing such acts with a concubine for months, preparing for you. Could that be the case? Could he have wanted you for that long? You shake away the thought and focus only on the current events. His breathing was sporadic, you could tell he couldn’t handle these feelings for much longer. Though you could barely keep your eyes open, his powerful movements prevented you from properly looking at him, you got glances of his face. It was contorted in a way, but you could tell he was enjoying himself. Two of his hands were tightly gripping your hips as he thrusted into you. He continued to babble incoherent nonsense. You could tell he was close to this epitome of pleasure- something you could feel yourself. Every passing second you felt the build up, only for you to reach the climax when Sukuna allowed you to. Moments later Sukuna’s movements became less and less rhythmic. You could feel a warm sensation inside of you- your body slightly seizing up from the intense feeling you were receiving. Throughout that pure sensation of ecstasy, you felt a hot liquid shoot inside of you. You were slightly puzzled but had a more important thing to focus on. You slowly opened your eyes to Sukuna leaning over you, just staring at you… again. I suppose he doesn’t have a way with words… you thought to yourself. “...Good.” Sukuna muttered, still catching his breath from the rigorous activity you were both performing earlier. “R-Repeat that, please?” You calmly asked, tilting your head to the side to represent your confusion. “You did good.” verbatim, just this time audible. He pulled himself out of you and got up from the bed. He grabbed his ‘kimono’ and his pants, got dressed, and left. You laid there on the mattress, sweaty and uncomfortable. You felt dirty.

[warabidakihime]

Secret Woes of the Heart

Characters: Geto Suguru x Reader | College AU

Synopsis: In the quiet of the night, beneath the starry canvas, we laid bare our secret woes, uncovering the raw, imperfect beauty of our hearts, and in that vulnerability, we found the strength to love.

Content warning: none

A/N: please accept this peace offering from me for not being able to update my works consistently huhu. it's the last quarter of the year and that means, it's extremely busy at work and it needs my 100% attention and focus. i was also not feeling the best and so i couldn't really bring myself to write. hope you'll like this one. this fic's pretty much self-indulging as i wrote my genuine feelings into this one in hopes of feeling better lol. hopefully soon i can finally update my toji fic and post it as soon as i can.

--

The clock on the wall ticked away the early hours of the morning, casting long shadows across the quiet corridors of Jujutsu High's dormitory. It was a time when most were lost in the embrace of sleep, a time when the world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of a new day. But for you, this was not a time for rest.

Restlessness had become a familiar companion, and sleep remained elusive. The weight of your own thoughts bore down on your shoulders, an uninvited guest in the solitude of your dorm room. You tossed and turned, unable to escape the grip of your anxious mind.

Desperation led you to a decision—a decision that would take you through the silent halls to a particular door—the door of Suguru Geto, a man known for his night owl tendencies. You hoped his room held the comfort you sought, even if it meant intruding into his world at an ungodly hour.

As you stood before Suguru's dorm room, uncertainty danced in your heart. Would he be awake as usual, or had sleep claimed even the night owl's restless soul? There is only one way to find out.

With a hesitant hand, you gently pushed the door open, the soft creak of the hinges echoing in the stillness of the night.

"Huh? What're you doing here? It's like... 1 AM," Suguru mumbled, the harsh light from outside disturbing his slumber, his voice drowsy with sleep.

You smiled sheepishly. "Sorry... Am I disturbing you? I can go if you want."

Suguru waved you off, "Nah, it's fine. I was just... trying to sleep, that's all. You need something?"

You chuckled sheepishly as you entered his dimly lit dorm room and settled down on the corner of his bed. "Nothing in particular. Just can't sleep, is all. You're always awake at this hour, so I didn't think twice about not going, but I guess this was the day you decided to sleep early. Sorry again."

Suguru raised an eyebrow, looking around his room, slightly puzzled. "Don't worry about it. But, uh, what are you doing just coming into my room?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but it was clear something was bothering you. "It's really nothing, Suguru. It's just my insomnia acting up again."

Suguru sat up, leaning forward, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong? Come on, don't play coy with me. I can tell something's bothering you."

"Look at me," Suguru said sternly, using his assertive voice.

Pouting, you sighed like a child caught red-handed and slowly turned to face him, avoiding eye contact. "What?"

"Look," Suguru repeated, still using his stern voice. He reached out, gently grabbing your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Suguru gave you a smirk before leaning back. "So... come on. What's been troubling you?"

"It's really nothing, but if you're so itching to know..." You sighed again, allowing yourself to get comfortable on his bed, even going as far as resting your head on his lap before opening up. "I was just thinking about stuff while I was in my dorm room, and one thing led to another. Well... I found myself overthinking stuff again. Like, I love the idea and potential of love, but when it comes to actually being in love with someone and staying in love with them... I can't bring myself to believe that I'm capable of such a thing, especially given my history of exposure to toxic and abusive relationships.That thought terrifies me. I want to be able to love and receive love, but what if I'm bad at it? What if I hurt the person?"

Suguru's face flashed in your mind, as he was your person of interest, but you'd never really acted on it out of fear that you might hurt him. "Never mind. I told you, this isn't something to worry about. It's just me being dramatic and pessimistic. Don't worry about it, Suguru."

Suguru thought for a few moments, his gaze fixed on you. "You know, I never knew you thought about these things. Well, if you really want my opinion, I think you're fine. I don't see it as being dramatic at all. Your feelings are entirely valid, and it's not your fault for having these thoughts, given your experiences." He chuckled softly and patted your head. "But I also know you're someone capable of both. You're a good person, and I'm sure you know how to love."

You chuckled humorlessly, "You're just saying that, Suguru. But thank you; I appreciate the effort." You laid down more comfortably on his lap, finding solace in his warmth. "Talking about this without drinks is so funny and embarrassing. I never thought I'd spew stuff like this sober."

As you lay your head on Suguru's lap, a comfortable silence settled between you. The dim moonlight filtering through the curtains casts a soft glow in the room. Suguru's fingers found their way to your hair, gently combing through the strands as he began to speak.

"Y/N, you underestimate yourself. Love is a complex thing, and it's perfectly normal to have doubts and fears about it. But it's those very doubts that make you human. It's those vulnerabilities that make you capable of the deepest, most genuine love," Suguru said, his voice warm and soothing. "I've watched you from afar, and I've seen the kindness in your heart, the way you care for others, the way you listen. I know you're capable of love." Your eyes met his, and there was something in his gaze, an intensity you couldn't ignore. "I could say the same about you, Suguru. I've seen it in the way you've protected those dear to you and in how you've always been there for me." Your voice trembled slightly as you carried on. "I've admired you for a long time."

Suguru's fingers stilled in your hair, and he looked deep into your eyes. "You've admired me...?" He trailed off, his voice soft but tinged with surprise. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes, Suguru. More than that, actually, I... I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just never had the courage to admit it, especially when I was convinced that I couldn't love anyone."

A gentle smile crept across Suguru's face, and his fingers resumed their tender motion in your hair. "Y/N, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words from you. I've been harboring these feelings for you, too, afraid that you didn't feel the same way."

Suguru's voice then softened even more, and his gaze held nothing but sincerity. "But please, don't worry about hurting me. I wholeheartedly trust and believe in you. I've seen the kindness and warmth in your heart, and I know that love isn't about one person doing all the work. It takes two to tango."

As you gazed into each other's eyes, the unspoken sentiments between you seemed to hang in the air, a tangible tension filled with anticipation. Suguru's fingers left your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. The kiss that followed was soft and tentative, yet it carried a rush of warmth and a sense of long-awaited fulfillment. If someone stumbled upon the two of you, they'd probably find it adorable—like characters in a movie, finally realizing their feelings. The kiss marked a significant turning point, a sign that this slow-burning romance was finally moving forward.

Suguru eventually pulled away, but his gaze remained locked on yours, emanating warmth and longing. "Y/N, you are more than capable of love, and I want to demonstrate that to you. I want to be the one to prove it."

Your heart swelled with emotion, and you nestled even closer on his lap, burying your face in his chest while mumbling a soft thank you. Suguru's arms wrapped around you protectively, and his voice, already soft, sounded even more loving as he whispered, "You're welcome. It means a lot that you've entrusted your feelings to me."

-

Days turned into weeks, and your journey with Suguru had become a steady progression. You cherished every moment you spent together, learning more about each other and growing closer with each passing day. Your feelings deepened, and you both discovered the joy of sharing love with one another.

One evening, while you sat on Suguru's dorm room floor, surrounded by books and notes, he gently placed a cup of your favorite tea in front of you. You looked up and smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Y/N, there's something I've been wanting to do," Suguru said, his voice filled with anticipation.

You tilted your head, curious. "What is it?"

He reached for a book and opened it to a marked page. "I thought we could read together," he suggested with a playful glint in his eye. "We can take turns reading out loud. It's a way to share something new."

You nodded, captivated by the idea. "I'd love that."

As the two of you took turns reading, you found yourselves lost in the words of a story, sharing laughs and moments of quiet reflection. It was a simple yet meaningful way to strengthen your bond, and it felt like a promise of many more shared adventures to come.

In the weeks that followed, you both continued to grow as a couple, taking your time one step at a time. You embarked on more shared activities—exploring the city, discovering new cuisines, and even practicing jujutsu techniques together and going on missions together.

One evening, as you lay together on a blanket under the starlit sky, Suguru leaned in for a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with love, and as you pulled away, he whispered, "I love you, Y/N."

You smiled, your heart full of affection. "I love you too, Suguru."

Suguru's eyes sparkled mischievously, and he couldn't help but tease you gently. "Told you you're more than capable of loving someone."

You chuckled, leaning in to place another soft kiss on his lips. With a playful glint in your eyes, you retorted, "Well, maybe I just needed the right person to come along and prove me wrong."

Suguru's laughter was as sweet as the night air, and he replied, "I'm honored to be that person, Y/N." He leaned in to seal your banter with another affectionate kiss.

It was a trait you'd discovered early in your relationship: Suguru was incredibly clingy and affectionate, and he had no reservations about showing it.

And as the two of you lay there, beneath the vast canvas of stars, you knew that your love story was just beginning.

[starboybutler]

Lights Up (Ch. 1)

summary: john egan, sophomore, sees a cute boy in class and gets serious about his education. (not)

word count: 3148

warnings: objectification, drugs, sh, non-con (all briefly mentioned), blowjobs, john egan is kind of an asshole

notes: first chapter of my college au fic! this went through like. five rewrites before i was happy with it and even now i still kinda hate it. but!! i hope you guys enjoy!

chapter two | chapter three | ao3 link

here's some art for this chapter!

john egan was not made for college in the slightest.

he enjoyed the experience– the parties, the friends he made, the experimenting with almost every drug in the book– but the academics? not so much.

he wasn't even sure how he got in, honestly. he did all the paperwork when he was high one night, and he gotten a letter saying he was accepted. his momma was so happy for him.

he had skipped class a lot, opting to go out and meet up with a dude he matched with on tinder instead and fucking his brains out in a shady alleyway and ghosting him the next day. when he did attend class, he would sleep through it and miss almost everything his professor said.

he was bad with his assignments too. he never turned them in on time, always promising his professors via email that he'd get it turned in by the end of the week. and when he didn't, he'd just leave it be.

that's the thing about college though– unlike high school, there was no one to breathe down your neck to tell you to do your schoolwork. they expected you to fend for yourself because you were an adult now.

john honestly never had a reason to go to class. until last week.

here he was, in god knows what class listening to his professor drone on about square roots…something like that. did he even sign up for a math class?

whatever. all he was focussed on was the pretty blonde boy that had found a seat right in front of him. he had sleepy blue eyes and pouty pink lips that put every woman he’s ever seen to shame. his hair fell in ribbons over his shoulders, shiny and soft looking. he couldn't take his eyes off of him.

he showed up last week without a word, hair in a messy little ponytail and dressed up in a frayed jean jacket and leather pants. john was so happy he decided to show up to class that day. the minute that blonde beauty walked in, he perked right up, immediately gaining an interest in this particular class.

that entire day, he watched as he wrote line upon line upon line of notes, muscles in his hand moving dutifully.

god.

john had started waking up and walking to class everyday, even opting to get here early just to watch the new boy set up his little work station. he had plenty of pens and pencils and scratch paper to take notes on, but this week he seemed to have finally invested in a laptop for his notes instead– which was a shame, because he had pretty handwriting.

despite a week passing, he had only just text curt about the new boy today, telling him every little detail he’s remembered.

curtie 🖕🏻💚

‘hello???? you’re just gonna say all this and not send a picture???’

curtie🖕🏻💚

‘you’re evil’

bucky huffed out a little laugh.

‘i don't know if you've been told this, but taking pictures of people you don't know is weird.’

curtie 🖕🏻💚

‘ITS FOR SCIENCE’

‘NO curt’

curtie 🖕🏻💚

‘FINE. i’ll just come over there’

“oh god,” john sighed, letting his head fall forward onto the table in front of him, slightly embarrassed. he loved curt to death, but he acted like he was in heat sometimes- like he just couldn't help himself around a good looking guy.

he peeked at the boy again. today, the boy was dressed a little less flashy than the previous days– only wearing a simple white shirt and gray sweatpants.

he was hyperfocused on his laptop as he soaked up the professors words like a sponge, typing his words into a well organized word document with quick, nimble fingers. his glasses slid lower on his nose, making him take a hand away from his keyboard for a split second and push them back up to the bridge.

john was hypnotized by every movement of his. he seemed so calm, collected– calculated. he seemed like everything bucky wasn't. he was the type of boy that john had always fantasized about taking home and corrupting beyond repair.

fucked up, yeah, but the thought of taking this pretty, smart blonde beauty to bed and making him scream and yell and forget everything nerdy he was typing until he could think of nothing but john’s name– bringing him to filthy, low down clubs and having him take all kinds of things and then fucking him in his car while he giggled, just happy to be there…

god, what an image he created for himself.

“issat him?”

“christ–” john sputtered, startled as curt’s voice suddenly sounded in his ear, arm suddenly slung around his shoulder. “didn't think you were actually comin’.”

“you know me, bucky.” the boy smiled, eyes fixed hard on the blonde, scanning every single little detail. “i hear about a hot guy, i just can't help myself. it's a curse.”

“i gotta get you spayed or something,” he joked, tugging the shorter boy’s hoodie so that he was sat in the chair next to him. “siddown.”

they spent a good while just staring, before curt broke the silence with a filthy whisper in bucky’s ear.

“think he'd be down for a threeway?”

“curtis.”

“what? man, god knows what you're thinkin’ i’m just brave enough to say what i’m thinking out loud.”

“yeah, in a class full of people,” he hissed, flicking curt on the side of the head. “keep your voice down.”

“what's your deal?” curt huffed, rubbing at the spot john had struck him bitterly. “you’d be flirting with a guy this hot by now. it's like you're scared or something.”

“i’m not scared– you're just bein’ too goddamn loud.” john said, elbowing him in the side sharply. “besides, he seems like the shy type- so i’ll have to get him to warm up to me before i can even suggest anything, y’know?”

“ughhh,” curt groaned, falling back dramatically and clutching his chest as if he were dying. “i dunno if i can wait johnny-boy. i wanna devour him like thanksgiving dinner and lick the plate clean.”

“i know you do.” john mumbled, rubbing at his temples. “just try and be patient, yeah? don't you got other boy toys you can sleep with in the meantime?”

“none as good lookin’ as him.”

“down boy.” john teased. “i got this. just give me a week and we'll have him in our dorm.”

curt huffed and stood from where he was seated, shoving his hands into his loose pockets. “alright, but i’ll be damned if i wait a day longer.”

and there he went, striding out of the classroom like he owned the damn place, pants falling low on his hips because he'd lost his goddamn belt somewhere the week before. that boy was more of a mess than he was.

class came to a close, and john sighed and picked up his bag nonchalantly. he had been brainstorming a way to even approach the guy, seeing as he looked like the quieter type. he had a nagging feeling that if he tried to just go up to him and strike up a conversation he'd freak him out a little bit.

he must've spaced out. when he came to, the room was empty, save for the professor organizing his haphazard work space.

“i know you aren't gonna ask me any questions about the lecture, egan,” the frumpy old man said, glaring up at him. “you know where the door is.”

“gee, thanks.” john mumbled under his breath.

he turned to leave, bag slung lazily over his shoulder, only for something glimmering under the fluorescent lights of the room to catch his eye.

he turned to look at the object. it was a pair of glasses.

he practically jumped over the table to get to where the blonde was sat previously, taking hold of the thin-framed specs in his large hand.

perfect.

he dashed out of the classroom, hoping he could still run into him somewhere outside since class hadn't ended that long ago. he made his way into the hall, which was fairly vacant, and scanned for him almost frantically.

there.

he was standing near the exit door, fumbling through his satchel for something– and john hard a fairly good idea of what he was looking for. he took a deep breath, straightened his back and walked towards him, shoving the bifocals in his pocket.

“hey,” he started, obviously scaring the blonde a bit as his eyes shot up from his bag, meeting john’s. “lose something?”

“oh, uh,”

he looked caught off guard, but his face remained surprisingly stoic. the only tell that he was nervous was his stiff posture and twitching fingers.

“yeah, lost my glasses. think i left ‘em somewhere.”

god, his voice was deep– smooth and soft with a hint of a southern twang.

his plump bottom lip twitched slightly as he took his hand out of his cluttered handbag, letting them rest at his sides. he fidgeted with nimble fingers, picking at a loose string that stuck out from his frayed jeans.

he was so much cuter up close. john could really get a good look at all of his features– his sleepy eyes, his soft hair, his straight nose, the freckles that dotted his cheeks, and the musky, sandalwood-vanilla scent that wafted off of him. john wanted to devour him.

he pulled the aforementioned glasses from the pocket of his basketball shorts, presenting them to the blonde. “y’mean these?”

the blonde perked up.

“oh, yeah,” he said, quickly taking them and sliding them back onto his face, missing the way john jumped a little as their skin made contact for a split second. “thanks. must’ve dropped ‘em.”

“nah, left them in class, actually,” john informed, nodding back to the door of the now barren math room. “saw ‘em sitting on the table, so i picked ‘em up.”

“uh, thanks,” he said, hands moving to clutch at the strap of his satchel. “how’d you know they were mine?”

john chuckled and gave his most charming smile, cocking his head to the side slightly, just to add to the charm a bit. “couldn't forget a cutie like you sittin’ in front of me.”

the boy turned his head away at the words, but john didn't miss the way his cheeks flushed a soft, sweet shade of pink. he couldn't help but smirk.

his neck tensed, letting john see all of the muscles in a way that made him want to sink his teeth into him right then and there. he didn't miss how his shirt was cropped slightly either, a little bit of skin showing as he reached to scratch at the back of his reddening neck.

gotcha.

“oh. uh, well…thank you.” he mumbled, a nimble finger running up and down the faded strap of his satchel. “nice of you to return ‘em.”

“of course. who wouldn't? i’m sure everyone would want an excuse to talk to you,” john replied, smiling wider. “what’s your name?”

“oh– it’s gale.” he said, gathering himself and making eye contact with john once more. “gale cleven.”

“nice to meet you, gale,” he crooned, holding out a large hand. “i’m john egan. friends call me bucky.”

“nice to meet you,” he said softly, a slight smile crossing his face as he took john’s hand, shaking it firmly. “bucky.”

“good boy,” he said seamlessly, watching as gale’s face went a pale pink once more. “how about you grab a drink with me? i’ll consider us even for the glasses.”

“ah, i’d love to, but,”

he faltered, and john’s heart sank for a moment. he must've overstepped.

“i don't drink. even if i did, i’m 19, so i can’t legally get a drink at bars.”

john shrugged, playing off his miscalculation as he released gale’s hand. “a’ight. how about a bite to eat then?”

gale went quiet, lip twitching once more as he mulled over john’s offer. bucky worried his bottom lip with his teeth in anticipation.

“not today,” gale exhaled. “gotta study, y’know. but i’m free tomorrow?”

“okay. i’m counting on you to keep your word on this.” he purred, flashing him a sly wink as he walked past him, out the door. “see ya tomorrow, gale.”

—---------------------

“so, did you ask him?”

“curt, didn't i say a week?” john huffed, shucking his shirt off and tossing it aside. “you're real impatient, you know that?”

“he's hot.” curt said urgently. “god, if i got a chance to talk to him i’d–”

“i know, which is why i didn't let you talk to him.” john laughed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “you’d scare him off and he'd probably report us or something. it’s happened before.”

“no one's reported us.”

“yet.”

“whatever.” curt sighed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “did you at least get a name? what color are his eyes? what’s he smell like?”

“gale. gale cleven.” john recalled fondly. “he’s got big baby blues, and he smells real good. like those ridiculously overpriced colognes you love so much. god– his voice is so deep too, curtie.”

“...gale sounds like a chick’s name.”

“curt.”

“what, it does!”

“and you think you’d be able to get him to agree to a threeway? with a mouth like that?” john huffed. “you're such a shit talker.”

“it’s not on purpose, i promise.” he said with a bratty roll of his eyes. “i just think honesty is the best policy. ain’t that a core value or sumn?”

“it is– but not if you’re thinking of telling a cute blonde guy you wanna fuck that his name sounds like a chick’s name.”

“are you gonna tell me it doesn’t? honestly?”

“you just–” john pauses, lips pressed into a flat line. “you shouldn't say it.”

“so you agree!” he cackles, falling back with the force of his raucous laughter. “oh johnny, you're such a hypocrite.”

bucky all but pounced on curt, relishing the little yip that came from him as he was pinned against the shitty little dorm mattress. john’s hand was gripping the front of his hoodie, lifting him up slightly so that their faces were inches apart, breath mingling with one another.

“you've got such a smartass mouth, you know that?” he hissed, staring curt right in his crystal-blue eyes, which were wide with an obvious mix of arousal and fear.

this is what curt got a kick out of- riling bucky up and making him manhandle him. this wouldn't be the first time they had gotten carried away in their little friendly bickering matches, only for john to end up on top of or inside of curt. it was a little arrangement they had. they’d known one another since elementary school, and they'd only grown closer as they grew up.

curt was there for bucky throughout his worst– the drugs, the relapses- he’d seen john at his absolute worst, and he stayed right by his side.

he'd also seen curt at hit lowest, dirty and covered in blood and other fluids that were from men that curt didn't want to name because he was sure ‘they didn't mean it’.

so much they've been through together. so many nights they've spent curled up together- crying, screaming, or just silent.

“yeah?” the boy exhaled, erection poking at the back of bucky’s thigh insistently. “why don't you shut me up then?”

he didn't need anymore permission. bucky pulled his half-hard cock free from his loose basketball shorts, shoving it roughly into curt’s mouth, laughing cruelly as the boy let out a little whiny sigh.

“didn't even gag. how many cocks you suck this week, huh? how many men you let violate your pretty mouth?”

another whine, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he began to lick and suckle at his cock weakly, hands grasping at john’s thighs.

the words were harsh, but he knew it’s what curt liked. he loved being talked about like he was an object- a little plaything for john’s personal gratification.

he rolled his hips forward, smirking as curt gagged slightly at the nudge of john’s cockhead against the back of his throat. spit was running down the corners of his mouth, creating a pretty, messy little picture below him.

“fucking hell, love your mouth.” he sighed, settling into a slow rhythm, savoring the feeling of curt moaning and whimpering around him like a pitiful little puppy. “love when i get to take you like this. you think gale would fill you up like this?”

a downright filthy groan left curt’s mouth at that, nails biting into the plush skin of john’s thighs. bucky laughed throatily. tugging at curt’s damp curls until just his tip was in the warm chasm of his mouth.

“hah….thought he had a chick’s name? bet you don't really care. you’d still moan for his cock like the whore that you are, huh?”

curt’s tongue licked at the weeping head of bucky’s dick, shuddering at the taste of precum drizzling over his pink little tongue. his chest was heaving with each breath he took, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head as john forced him to swallow his cock once more.

“want me to cum down your throat, curtie? gonna imagine that it’s gale?”

a garbled word that sounded like ‘fuck’ escaped the shorter boy’s throat, his nails scratching down his thighs and leaving bloody little marks that would be hard to explain– but he didn't care. his thrusts got sloppier, more frantic as that familiar warmth built at the base of his spine.

“shit–”

he pulled free from curt’s throat with a filthy wet sound, jerking his wet cock as he spilled all over curt’s scrunched up face. his cheeks were pink and wet with a mix of john’s precum and his own spit, which made such a beautiful little picture as his spend was added to it.

they both sat there panting for a bit, before curt shoved him in his chest.

“i said down my throat, asshole.”

john just shrugged, smirking crookedly. “i hear cum is great for your skin. just trying to keep you looking young.”

curt shoved him again, enough to make him stumble off of his chest and onto the floor, which made them both laugh.

“god, now i gotta shower again,” curt huffed, wiping at his face with his hand. “god, you're such a dick.”

“you're welcome,” bucky called out as curt shuffled off to the bathroom, shooting him the finger as he closed the door behind him. he was left laying there, cock still wet and messy with curt’s saliva as his eyes drifted shut. images of gale, spread out below him, flushed and fucked out flashed prettily like a homemade porno behind his eyelids.

tomorrow, he was gonna win that blonde boy over no matter what.

taglist: @mooodyblue @lauvmyself @kaiistheguy @slowsweetlove

[ideaofheaven]

— LESS SUGAR (onew x reader)

Synopsis: A playful first impression with a certain shining idol in your own coffee shop takes your life into an interesting turn. A merge of two worlds, you never expect Jinki to provide you company and comfort. But he does, all the while ordering lattes and pastries.

Pairing: Lee Jinki x fem!reader

Genre: coffee shop!au, idol!Jinki, fluff (like, lots of fluff), piniiiing, angst, smut

Word count: 17376 words (lmao its a SLOW burn)

Warnings: sakura jinki!! (Yeah it’s a warning), mentions of diet, implied depressive episodes, heavy make out, vaginal fingering, Jinki big dick agenda, domsub undertones, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie (careful folks), minors dni!

AN: Happy 525 everyone! What other perfect timing to celebrate my love for SHINee’s leader. But actually, I wrote this one almost 2 years ago now?? And I thought yeah no way this will stay in drafts forever. I just need a sweet fic for dearest Jinki, you know? Please enjoy!

+++

You empty a box of newly arrived goods. After a few considerations, maybe you should’ve arranged the displays at night when you have more time instead of in the mornings before you open the store. But they look fine as it is; the coffee grounds are lined up neatly, and the rustic decors compliment them well. Deciding the shop is all ready, you check the time. It’s only a few minutes before 7 o’clock, so you flip the wooden sign from ‘close’ to ‘open’.

Almost a year has passed since you opened your own cafe. The journey wasn’t a walk in the park. From the loans, experimenting in your apartment kitchen, and the amount of time and energy spent gathering the resources. But you made it, now owning a small cafe that can house up to fifteen customers. Often perceived as a friendly person, you managed to gather a handful of regulars.

The bell chimes, and you turn to see your regular coming in through the door. “Good morning, Eunmi!” You chirp, before noticing her gloomy visage. “You look particularly bright today. The usual?”

The regular, Eunmi, is a working woman who lives nearby with her husband. She sighs before nodding. "I only slept for a couple of hours.” She drags herself to the counter. “Do you remember that co-worker I told you about?”

She rambles on, complaining about this and that while you tinker with your coffee machine. Occasionally you laugh, but you mostly take your time to listen. Eunmi is the one who requested you to open the store earlier. Not having any problem with mornings, you happily oblige. Ever since, with a raging need for someone to vent to and a caffeine boost, she visits daily.

“You should take a day off,” you advise while finishing off the beverage. You grab the paper cup carefully, gesturing to Eunmi who’s still sitting down. “One almond caffe mocha to go.”

“I’ll think about it,” she murmurs tiredly as she gets up, dragging herself to her coffee. “I’m off, then. Thanks for the drink!”

With a wave, she leaves the cafe. There goes your early morning regular. You go back to your favorite pastime, rearranging the items on your shelf. You are contemplating putting the house blend on the front counter to replace the Vietnamese Arabica when the door chimes. Delighted, you shout, “Welcome!”

A man walks in hesitantly. At that moment, you can't possibly recognize him. He wears a mask and a baseball hat. The hoodie and the dark jeans make him appear like one of the people from your neighborhood. 

What you notice is that he’s a new customer, and his eyes are... pretty.

You push the last thought aside and switch to your customer service mode. “Here’s the menu,” you gush, your voice sounding too pitchy to your ears. The man blinks at you before his gaze falls on the printed paper.

Your mind betrays you and chooses to zone in on the man before you. He’s tall. His dark brown hair stops above the nape of his neck with soft strands of fringe framing his defined heart-shaped face. Though it's hidden by the mask, you can see his high cheekbones. Despite that, you can’t help but focus on his hooded soft brown eyes.  From your place behind the counter, you’ve seen many attractive people. You noticed their neat makeup, their perfectly curled hair, their luscious lips, or the way they dress. Being attracted to someone’s eyes seems incredulous. But even his eyebrows look nicely groomed.

He lifts his gaze which inevitably meets yours. Your stomach lurches in embarrassment and you stupidly let out an “oh” before putting your best smile. Please don’t notice. “What would you like to order?”

If he notices, he doesn’t show any sign. “Can I have a brown sugar latte to go?” 

His voice sounds like the drink itself; warm, sweet, and syrupy. You perk up. “Great choice. Will that be all?” The man tilts his head, humming. Cute.

“Make it with an extra shot of espresso.” You’re already grabbing the pack of grounds when you respond with good humor, “Tough day ahead?” At that, he chuckles, low and bright at the same time. Warm and syrupy indeed. “Everyday is a tough day at work.”

You laugh, but perhaps the curiosity in your expression is too obvious, because the mysterious customer’s eyes crinkle with amusement. 

“It's tough work, but I love my job,” he says in what you perceive as teasing. 

“Sure, sure,” you snicker, now pouring measured liquid brown sugar into the paper cup. You’re confident in your coffee-making skills, and you can’t wait to hear his reaction. Maybe he can join your not-so-long list of regulars.

“Brown sugar latte with double shot.” You give him the paper cup. “Enjoy!”

Another eye crinkle smile grazes his covered face. With a closer look, there’s a slight jaw movement behind his mask. “Thank you very much,” he responds and you notice the formality. “By the way, do you happen to sell any food?”

You bite the insides of your mouth. “Yes, but I only stock them later,” you explain ruefully. “The bakery usually delivers the pastries at 9 o’clock. I apologize.” You bow and he immediately raises both of his hands, waving them frantically. 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. What do you have?”

“We have a selection of buns, scones, pound cakes, egg tarts,” you gush. “They’re all delicious. But I personally like their traditional pastries. Injeolmi, red bean rice cake, yakbap, fried tteok dumplings. Auntie does a great job every time.” 

Unlike other cafes that bake their own food, you work together with the local bakery that happens to make the best traditional pastries you’ve ever tried. You know they aren’t as popular as the more western pastries, but they always pull the older customers to your cafe, even becoming your regulars.

His eyebrows shoot up all of a sudden, “You have yakbap?” He asks in apparent surprise which you mirror excitedly. “Yes! Oh my god, do you like them?” He nods. “Would you like to try? I can have them stocked tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that too much trouble?”

"Of course not. But," you emphasize. "You have to come visit tomorrow morning. Promise?” The surge of boldness takes you out of nowhere. He’s just one customer who only bought one drink, but you can’t deny the urge to see him again. So when you saw the chance, you knew you had to take it.

“I will, I promise,” he chuckles and your worries melt away, swept away by the soothing voice of his promise.

+++

At 8 o’clock, the door chimes. You almost jump from behind the counter.

“Good morning,” the man from yesterday greets you with a small bow. Today he’s wearing a dark jacket over a simple tee. Without yesterday's baggy clothes, the outfit centers on his broad shoulders well. A mask is still in place, but now without the hat, you can see more of him. At least more of his soft-looking short brown hair. A surge of familiarity rushes through you. After a quick run through your memories, your mind comes up blank. You shrug off the thought but he’s faster to notice you zoning out.

“What? I promised, didn’t I?” He mumbles, and you respond with a small laugh, “You did.”

You usher him to the counter, pulling out a small basket. “Now here’s my end of the deal.”

“What’s all this?” He glances in the basket. Inside is a handful of pastries, covered neatly in plastic wrap. “There’s so many!” 

You smile proudly. “I asked the bakery for a sampler basket. So these are their best-sellers. We have a kaya bun, blueberry lemon scone, garlic basil bread, yakbap,” you wink, “fried tteok dumplings, and red bean rice cake.”

“Wait--”

“And I’ll give you a special price.” You send him another cheeky grin, and you feel triumphant when you see his resigned face.

“I didn’t expect you would prepare a whole basket… But thank you,” he sighs before breaking into one of his eye-smiles. It looks so familiar and the feeling starts to gnaw at you once more. Like reaching out to remember a dream, it feels close yet you can't come up with a name to associate his face with. You snap back to reality, hearing him say something in your direction. “Yes?”

“I’d like to have the drink from yesterday,” he states almost giddily. “It’s delicious. I thought it’d be too sweet.”

Oh. You cover a smile with the back of your hand, secretly proud of yourself. Elated, you lean in before you even know it, catching your customer's attention.

“Be sure to come back for more, then.” Right after the words leave your mouth, you recoil. You sound like you were flirting, and you don't flirt with customers.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do." You stare at him in surprise, seeing the teasing glint in his eyes. Flustered, your throat tightens.

“R-right. One brown sugar latte coming up.” Warm, sweet, syrupy… Sticky.

After finishing the latte with sprinkles of cinnamon powder on top, you put the plastic cap on and bring it to your only customer. The man is sitting in the corner, on one of the chairs that has its back on you. He's eating a piece of yakbap from a plastic wrapper when you approach the table. “Here’s-"

Perhaps, that day you forget that people eat with their mouths. Uncovered. In the end, nothing prepares you to witness the face behind the mask.

A few weeks ago, you were watching TV on your couch. One of your favorite dramas had just ended, so you were stuck watching a random variety show. Loud screams pierced your ears, making you jump so you checked the show. A couple of people were sitting at the table, and one of them, a handsome young man with light brown hair and lovely eyes, was reenacting his version of the famous Gwiyomi song. What a weird guy, you thought with a laugh while seeing him kiss each of his fingers just a little too passionately.

“- your drink,” you finish shakily. The new information almost freezes you in place but you put on your best (worst, stiff) customer service smile anyway. Defying another expectation, Onew - oh god, it is him - takes the paper cup from your hand. Your fingers touch briefly and you swear there's a jolt that tickles. The idol is staring at you with a hint of worry, indicating he knows the cat's out of the bag.

You should leave him be, he might be uncomfortable. But then, a sight of empty plastic wrappers catches your attention. "How's the food?" You inquire placidly. Creative.

The worry in his face dissipates very slightly and you realize how different he looks now without the mask. You can see the plump lips parting before he says, "You're right, they're so good."

The compliment somehow melts your worries. 

"Right? They taste exactly the same since I was a child. Auntie had just started baking the western pastries a few years ago, but she’s too tired to run the bakery full-time. So I thought having her pastries in my cafe would be perfect," you stop, internally scolding yourself for rambling all that to the celebrity, "I talk too much don't I?"

"You own this cafe?" The man asks instead, his mouth gaping and eyes wide. Adorable.

"Owner, barista, waitress, slash everything," you rub the back of your neck, pressured by the questioning gaze he has on you. Without his mask, he seems more intense. Or, you are subconsciously affected by his idol status. While this is not the first time you meet a celebrity from behind the counter, it is the first time you're engaged in conversation with them. Especially with someone of a high tier like him. Someone amazing.

"That's amazing." His voice echoes, jolting you back to reality

"What?" You sputter. He definitely notices you zoning out because his smile - you can see his mouth now, oh god - is too mischievous and knowing. This is getting too much.

Rigidly, you peek into the paperbag, noticing the amount of pastries left. "What are you going to do with them?" Onew looks at the paperbag before standing up and grabbing the bag. "I'll share them with people at work."

You step back with a laugh. "Do you think they'll like it?"

"I think they will. Well, some can't enjoy it due to… a strict diet. But one won't hurt." Onew takes his coffee in one hand, and the paperbag in the other. He raises both hands slightly, gesturing with the items. "Thank you. I'll be going now."

"No,” you begin tentatively, “Thank you, Onew." 

You internally pat yourself on the back for letting that out.

His ever so expressive eyebrows rise before he lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, isn't that unfair."

"What is?"

"I see you know my name already," he supplies, staring down at you with a pretty gummy smile. "But I don't know yours."

Heat rushes to your cheeks when his words sink into your brain. You would pray it wouldn't show but you find your tongue unable to form useful words. Instead, as an uncontrolled fight or flight reaction, it responds haughtily, "Come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you."

You curse the random unsolicited rush of courage. But Onew's surprised expression is already morphing into a half smirk, and you can't decide if you regret it.

"Deal. I'll see you tomorrow, miss."

Exactly one minute after the door closes, you curl up on the floor and let out a groan. What just happened?

+++

Jinki knows he shouldn't be doing this.

That morning, he woke up exactly three hours before his first schedule of the day. The warm sunlight tempted him to go for a jog, but the ache crawling through his body reminded him what a bad idea that was. The day before, the dance instructor had drilled them with another wild choreography, and in the morning, his joints were positively protesting.

So he took a walk. Enjoying the sunlight, he left the rows of high-rise apartments for the quiet residential complex. The bustle of the crowded market and gossipy house-wives felt like a calming noise, and he continued his walk until he turned one corner.

Nothing should've caught his attention, but everything did. The shop's facade of pale red bricks was a splash of color in between the other buildings. A couple of vintage lantern lamps decorated the shop, and there were wooden signs with intricate lettering on the wall and glass door. Jinki realized it was a coffee shop, a small one. There and then he thought he needed his caffeine, and the nearest Starbucks was blocks away. So he went in, met the cute barista, got a delicious latte, and left.

And ever since, he keeps coming back for more.

“Someone enjoys visiting this little place,” she laughs one morning, cocky and amused. It’s his visit for the third time in a row. Borrowing her high energy and boldness, he smirks in reply.

"You’re the one who asked me, though," he mentions, holding a small cup of her manual brew. A new house blend, she had mentioned. It has a subtle sweetness to it, which Jinki likes.

"Asked what?"

"To come back here." 

She chuckles, that rare hint of shyness surfacing once more. "I was just messing around."

But he wasn't, and back then, he would do anything to get to know her name. So the day after her request, Jinki returned. After an order of one brown sugar latte and five miscellaneous pastries, all to-go, Jinki sat down and propped his chin on top of his folded hands, waiting. His legs were fidgeting, a sign of anticipation and nervousness that he was well attuned with.

"Are you dining in?" She asked, probably feigning innocence, as she shuffled through various packets of coffee. What a tease.

"No," he responded curtly.

She moved away from the shelves to the edge of the counter, facing him. Oh, she's doing this on purpose. With a hand covering her mouth, she laughed silently. Jinki thought she shouldn't hide her laughter, or her smile, because it’s pretty and bright, just like her. 

"I'm sorry, I owe you something, don't I?" She asked sweetly, like those drinks she makes for him.

"Yes, you do." Jinki managed out, a crooked smile gracing his lips in a low effort intimidation.

"Okay, okay," she resigned. "You should make a habit of checking the bill, Onew."

Realization hit him and he rushed to pull the bill out of his pocket. There, written in neat handwriting, was a name. In awe, he said it once, testing it on his tongue—and he heard a crash.

"Oh--oops," she clambered to grab the fallen coffee packages. Jinki was wondering how attached this woman was to her coffee supply before he took a glance at her face. Pink tinted her cheeks and he wouldn't lie, it was a sight to see. Presumably annoyed, she was about to say something but Jinki just called her name once more, abruptly stopping her. So he raised his chin, taking a better look at the flustered barista with a satisfactory smile, “Everything okay back there?”

She nodded once before turning away, cheeks still flaming as she broke their eye contact. He just laughed. Cute.

Today, he finds himself once more in front of her store. Earlier, he found out Minho already had plans to visit his mother, and so, Jinki was left alone in the dorms. He's used to being alone in the apartment, but today he has a particular yearning to be somewhere else but home.

"Onew," she greets, ever so cheerful in the mornings. "The usual?"

Despite the merciless schedule in his line of work, Jinki hasn't met a lot of morning people. Especially the ones who are comfortable with an early schedule by nature. It took him years after debuting before his internal alarm worked properly. And after hundreds of cranky morning schedules, he finally could manage his mood well. She must have been born with the sun smiling upon her. Perhaps that is her destiny, to wake up effortlessly and share her energy through caffeinated beverages. Jinki has an urge to ask if she ever stays up late, maybe later.

"Actually, can I have an iced americano?" Jinki asks after a quick glance at the menu. This time he needs something with less sugar.

She is beaming, as usual. "Sure. But I recommend you drink it fast, it's warm outside—"

"I'm having it here." Jinki already grabs a seat, putting his bag and pulling out a book. Her expression is a mixture of confusion and delight. "...Is it okay?"

"Of course!" She exclaims all too fast before rushing to her tools.

An amicable silence stretches. Hisses and clamor from behind the counter occasionally fill the air, but otherwise it's quiet. After endless days in a loud environment, he appreciates the silence. He can’t remember the last time he sat still like this, without TV or a Youtube video to accompany him. He takes his book, a best-selling novel he picked up from the airport months ago during his work trip, and starts reading it. When his iced americano arrives, he thanks her properly and dives back into the story.

It's peaceful. At some point, she puts on music. Slow to medium-tempo songs in foreign languages, and it doesn't disrupt his reading, in fact, he enjoys it.

During his stay, customers come and go. He can't see them, because his back is facing the major part of the cafe. But he can hear them clearly. And interestingly, they talk a lot. One customer, a young girl, comes up to you, gets a large glass of iced chocolate milk, and proceeds to tell you about her crush. Another, an elderly man who apparently visits regularly, orders one hot barley tea and a red bean paste bun. Then he starts to give her updates on his newborn grandchild. Jinki hears her squeal before she asks for the man’s wife or daughter.

He finds all the interaction endearing, somehow.

"So, what's the occasion?"

The sun is now high up in the sky, signalling it's nearing noon. Jinki was feeling tiny pricks of hunger when she appeared near his table, a few tupperware in hand. "It gets lonely," she said cheekily. With each little talk they exchange, Jinki wonders why he didn’t ask her to sit here earlier, enjoying her company very much. And not before long, she offered some of her food to him, which he accepted with little resistance.

“You’ve never dined in before, what’s the occasion?”

Jinki takes one slice of rolled omelet with his chopsticks. "It's my day off," he answers.

"You have a day off, and you came here?" She looks up from her food and gapes at him. He nods.

"The apartment's empty, Minho is visiting his parents."

"It must be lonely."

"Not anymore,” he responds in earnest, and a grin emerges when he sees her fluster. Jinki is not a prideful person. He doesn’t absorb compliments like it’s his source of energy. However, knowing he can affect people like this, especially in such tight interaction, does boost his ego in a productive way. Additionally, he enjoys seeing her reaction. She’s very put together, confident, sometimes cheeky, but those rare moments when she gets caught off guard charm him. It’s like her fire turns into cotton candy, all cute and sweet.

Jinki can’t get enough of her.

“Is that one of your killer moves, Onew-ssi?” She says, hiding her strangled laugh by raising her chin with defiance. But he knows better. See? Charming.

He puts his chopstick down, and proceeds to lean his head on one knuckle. The gesture seems to affect her, because her smile falls and she’s blinking rapidly at him. “No, it’s not," he states before an idea pops into his head. "Call me Jinki."

Her mouth falls open. “What?”

“Please call me Jinki.”

He watches as she gapes wordlessly, like a cat got her tongue. In the end, she just nods softly, saying a quiet “Okay,” with a bashful whisper of his name. Hearing it, Jinki can’t help the giddiness bubbling inside him and a smug smile that graces his lips. His name sounds pretty on her tongue, and he immediately knows he will want to hear it more. 

Jinki thinks maybe that is his killer move.

+++

To have a celebrity coming back to your cafe, and getting to know them is an oddly enjoyable experience.

One morning Onew--no, Jinki arrives with all his attention on his phone. He’s typing furiously before craning his neck to see you. “(Y/n),” he says in an exaggerated whine, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting comically cute, “Kibum is being mean to me. He said we can’t hang out today. I’m so sad. I need my sad coffee so can you please get me a--”

“Jinki, don’t--”

“A despresso?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh audibly, a fond grin in place, making him snicker as he rubs the back of his head.

"Get it? Like espresso but depress-"

"Yes, Jinki. I get it."

Every time Jinki visits, you enjoy his company. Granted, he’s not the type to talk much, and when he does, he always manages to surprise you. You don’t know what’s worse, his dad jokes, or the fact that he’s not aware how much he’s driving you crazy. Does he know his teasing words can be wrongly interpreted as flirting? Does he know he looks good in even worn out shirts? Does he know you start to think he's been coming here not only for the coffee? With that being said, you weren’t prepared for Jinki’s presence in close proximity almost everyday.

"Whatcha' doing?" Jinki asks, his face leaning over the high counter, peeking into your workspace. His mask is off, and like his perfect face is not distracting enough, he's wearing a black sweater that snug nicely on his body. You notice how broad his shoulders are, or how his collarbones look so prominent, hanging above defined pecs. Focus, you have a job.

"I'm trying to make a new drink," you reply, measuring in teaspoons of the powder you prepared. You take the recently bought bamboo whisk to mix the powder. New tools in the kitchen always get you excited, especially if it’s your first time using it.  "Do you know hojicha?"

He tilts his head, thinking, and you wonder if it's necessary for him to jut his lower lips like that. "No. Is it Japanese?"

"Mmhm, it's Japanese roasted green tea.” You start whisking the water and the hojicha powder, and Jinki gawks. As the mixture gets frothy, you elaborate. "I've been wanting to try to make it, maybe someone will be interested." Grabbing another cup, you mix the diluted powder and the milk, the ash-colored tea mixture turning the milk into gray-ish brown. "They say it tastes best with milk."

"Ah, really?" Without a warning, Jinki shots one hand forward, taking the glass from your nimble hand. You yelp at the sudden movement. He then takes a big gulp, craning his neck to drink it properly and you can't take your eyes off of his Adam's apple as it moves with each gulp, and the veins running on his neck. Shit. He pulls the glass away, and using his other hand, he wipes his mouth. Your throat goes dry. 

Unaware of your struggle, he hums, "It's good. Bitter, but good.”

Shaking yourself back to reality, you take a deep breath. "I was about to say I hadn't put the sugar in."

"I think you don’t need it. Or just put a little," he grins, gesturing the aforementioned amount with his index finger and thumb, a small distance lingers between them. His fingers are pretty, you think absentmindedly. His other hand puts the empty glass back onto the counter. "You're really good at this."

At that, your heart swells with pride. "Of course, I don't want my customers to go."

"Me as well?"

"You as well,” you state, genuine. You can tell him that as much. “My early morning was never this fun."

Jinki snorts. “Me? Fun?” He asks, pointing a finger at himself. “People say I’m weird.”

“No offense, Jinki, I didn’t say you’re not weird.” The man barks a laugh and you join in. “But that’s what makes you fun. You're not boring."

Not for the first time, you witness his expression turn sheepish, almost shy and awkward. His fingers fidget behind his folded arms. But he quickly recovers, waving off your compliment.

"What about the other customers?"

The question perks your attention. "I have the best regulars," you reply, thinking of all your customers and their anecdotes. "I love talking to them."

"They seem to like gossiping with you."

"They do! Jinki, they talk a lot. There's this lady who will order parfaits only when she's upset or having a fight with her boyfriend. And also the working man who usually comes in evenings, he always asks if I serve alcohol. It's really hilarious—"

"But you always listen to them."

"Of course I do. Like I said, I love talking to them, I really do. Granted, mostly I just listen to them venting out their problems. But I guess it helps and my beverages too - " you stop yourself. "Sorry. D-did I bore you?"

"No, not at all," he answers, short and fast and most definitely teasing. "I enjoyed it. Come on, tell me more." Jinki is still leaning on the counter. His head is in his propped hand, eyes crinkling in amusement, and his plump lips are curling into a soft smile that makes your heart race. You feel warmth crawling on your cheeks.

"Don't say that. Gosh, that was embarrassing." You're still trying to hide your face behind your hands when a large palm lands on your head. You look up, and see Jinki who has straightened his back to full height, looming over you. Then, his hand is in your hair, ruffling it playfully.

"Cute," Jinki coos with a smile that shows his brilliant teeth and melts your insides into goo. After messing with your hair, he pulls his hand back and you swear his fingers brush past your cheekbones, the touch eliciting shivers down your spine. Unbothered, Jinki goes on his merry way and continues talking about random things as if nothing happened.

The audacity.

+++

"Alright, spill, what's up."

Eunmi's voice pulls you back to reality. Smell of food floods your senses, sweet and sour from kimchi and vinegar, and you remember your lunch with Eunmi. You look at your friend who's grabbing her spoon with a slight annoyance clear on her face.

"What? Nothing," you insist, diving back to your buckwheat noodles to avoid her piercing stare. She tsks at you, not buying the excuse.

"Nothing my ass, you've been staring at the pickles this whole time."

You're not in your cafe, in fact, you close it up for a while to have lunch out. Eunmi invited you to a restaurant near her office, only one station away from the store. It’s a cozy diner that’s not too crowded or loud, so you can talk comfortably. Eunmi brings her own car, and promises to drive you back after lunch.

The fact that even Eunmi realizes your weirdness makes you startled. You listen to her a lot, but it’s never the opposite case. You know your friend well enough to understand she won’t usually catch up on your mood swings, especially because you’re not the kind of person who shows your emotion on your sleeves. But that man just won’t leave your mind, not after driving you crazier with each passing day. Jinki keeps coming over, all smiles and charms and never forgetting to compliment you and your drinks.

And for whatever reason, you always end up talking about yourself for a good amount of time. That never happened before, not before him. You prefer to listen, and you do that well. But with Jinki, rarely does he ramble to you, instead it’s the other way around. Without a doubt, you’re getting too comfortable with him. And how can you not? He’s humble, polite, his smile lights up the whole room, and he looks like that. All soft brown hair and handsome.

"I know that face," Eunmi interrupts your trail of thoughts, her face beaming with mischief. You blink your eyes. That can’t be good.  "There's someone, isn't there?"

"What? No!"

"Nu-uh, you can't fool your unnie. You’re smiling like a teenager just now,” she teases while grabbing another spoonful of her dried pollack soup.

You splutter. “I-I did?”

“So, who is it? Come on, tell me something. My coworkers suck and I need some drama."

Cursing your luck, you grumble. Eunmi must be very perceptive to recognize the look on your face. But telling her about Jinki is impossible. You won’t be able to get away by saying “I think Onew from SHINee has been flirting with me non-stop.” It’s going to be a mess--no, a mess would be an understatement.

You take a deep breath, “It’s complicated, okay?”

"Tell me about it." Eunmi snorts.

“I can’t tell you just yet.”

She stares at you directly. “But?”

“It’s just…” You begin, hand already moving to cover your mouth, as if it could help you from the massive embarrassment you feel while discussing this. “I don’t know if I’m reading things correctly,” then, “Like, what if I’m wrong?”

“So you don’t know if he’s into you, or he’s just being nice.”

"Exactly!” you gasp.

She suddenly smirks, leaning back against the chair, "That's easy, just make a move."

"Make a move?"

"Yeah, make a move,” she repeats easily, “Do something similar to what he did to you, and see his reaction. Maybe he's just waiting."

You ponder upon her advice. It’s solid, and actually doable. Albeit unsure, you keep it in mind. "Alright, I’ll try.”

You finish your lunch and go back to the cafe. Eunmi, being the best combination of a friend and a customer, requests a chocolate marshmallow frappe before she returns to her office. Back to your usual place behind the counter, and Eunmi on the chair, she tells you about her vacation plan.

“A long weekend trip with your husband? That’s amazing!” You exclaim to Eunmi who’s radiating happiness.

Eunmi slurps at her drink, humming pleasantly from the sweetness. “Mm-hm,” she responds, the joy radiating from her is a refreshing sight compared to the usual gloom. “We’re going to Damyang.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, patting the older woman’s shoulder. “So you’re leaving tomorrow?” 

She nods. “Finally, a time off from those douchebags.”

You laugh, remembering her stories of the god-awful co-workers, then a jingle halts you.

“Oh, welcome!” You say and immediately feel your stomach drop as you see Jinki. Shit, the timing is so bad. Jinki rarely comes in the afternoon, what's up with the rare occurrence? And just by scanning his clothes, you’re more baffled, because today's outfit today is more extreme than usual. He’s wearing one of his worn out track pants and regular trainers.The grey jacket looks okay but he’s wearing the hoodie over a snapback. You can’t see even a strand of his hair. By default, his mask is also on, so you’re not too worried about him being recognized by Eunmi.

Jinki makes his order, glancing at you with sharp eyes, something he doesn’t usually do because you already know his usual menu. You just respond formally before dashing to where your drink machine is at, from the corner of your eye you see him taking a seat near the corner. Not long after, Eunmi’s face is in front of you, worried.

“He looks sketchy,” she whispers in a rush. Jinki? Sketchy? You bit your lip, trying to hold your blank expression in place, instead of the urge to grin.

“Really? I think he’s been here before, though.”

“How can you recognize him? This guy’s all covered from head to toe, (Y/n). It’s so creepy. I hope your man doesn't look like that."

You almost choke on air. Internally you're praying Jinki didn't hear the last part. “Right, right.” You peek at Jinki with a bothered expression, crafted meticulously to deceive Eunmi. You're definitely going to tease Jinki about this later. “I’ll be careful.”

Eunmi grabs her plastic cup before hoisting the bag up her shoulder. She points her manicured nails at you. “You better be, ‘cause I have to go now. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry,” you smile at your customer. Eunmi waves at you, gives a pointed look at Jinki’s back, and goes out of the store. As soon as the door closes, you slump on your post, letting out a loud and exaggerated sigh. You turn your sight to Jinki and find him facing you in his chair. The shit-eating grin on his face makes you more tired.

"Don't get closer, (Y/n)," he acts out, and you're already rolling your eyes. "I might bite."

You blow a raspberry while striding towards his table, a drink in hand. "Sure, sure, can't trust strangers who wear too many hoodies all the time," you grumble, putting Jinki's iced americano on the table.

The man has the audacity to pout at you in retaliation. "Not all the time."

You giggle. "What's the occasion, then?"

"Nothing." He slurps the black coffee, nonchalant and ridiculously bad at lying.

Baffled, you glare at the man who keeps drinking the beverage without care. With another brief observation, you note his outfit is actually not that different than usual. But he never wears a hoodie and a snapback. You can't even see his hair.

Oh.

“I get it!” You clap your hands excitedly as if you’re a seal. “It’s your hair, isn’t it?”

Jinki hisses through gritted teeth, forcing a crooked grin while his eyes are already looking away from yours. Bingo.

“Is it a new color? Did you cut it short?” 

Mischievously, Jinki puts a finger in front of his plump lips. “Company secret.”

You pout, and he chuckles. The mischief in his face is annoying yet somehow innocent, you can't bring yourself to get mad at him. It doesn’t help that he looks positively entertained by his own game of guess. But you're ever the curious one, and seeing there's no other customer right now, you have to find out what's behind the hat. 

Without much thought, you swat a hand at his snapback, tipping everything that's covering his head backwards. 

"Hey!"

As if in slow motion, the hood of his jacket is pushed back, and the hat falls to the floor. Anticipation builds up in your mind when you realize you’re about to see the hair. You hear Jinki yelp, and—

"It's pink!" You gasp out, overwhelmed. Out of all things, you didn't expect to find a mop of mauve pink colored hair underneath the hat. The shade is slightly muted, making it look less artificial. For some reason, it fits Jinki so well. His lightly tanned skin and the hair combined creates an exotic appearance of him.

Jinki is now pouting again, jutting out his lower lip like the hair is a punishment. "I wanted to surprise you, you know."

You tut at him, but leans down to take Jinki's cap off the floor, dusting it slightly. "How long would I have to wait?"

"Uh, until the comeback?"

"You haven't even announced the date," you reply with an unamused expression.

Jinki chuckles. "That's true." Out of a sudden, he poses. "Ta-da! Now you know I have pink hair." The sight brings warmth, because gosh, he's a sight to see. Then, with a huff, Jinki twirls the locks of the aforementioned hair, playing it around. "It's my first time, too."

You, however, are not paying attention to what he's saying. Questions pop into your head, wondering if Jinki’s hair feels soft like how it looks right now. With the lighting in your store interior, combined with warm natural light from the outside, the hair color looks chrome-like. It’s, no pun intended, shiny. All of a sudden, you feel a strong urge to touch it, curious how it will feel against your fingertips. Albeit hesitant, Eunmi’s words echo in your ears, motivating you to test the waters.

Leaning down, you ignore Jinki’s confused gaze and pull a lock of the sakura-colored hair. Your hunch is proven correct, it’s soft and luscious. As if in entrance, you caress more of his teresses, moving them out of his eyes while your fingertips occasionally graze his ear. You’re positively jealous of the care that goes into this man’s hair. It’s so soft, you want to pet it all day. Jinki can lay his head in your lap and you’ll definitely caress his hair all day long without a single complaint. The thought makes you giddy.

Your silly daydream is abruptly stopped when a large hand closes around your wrist, gentle yet firm. Realizing what you’ve done, you yelp.

“I’m sorry, I just--” You look down from the mop of hair to Jinki’s eyes, wide and as surprised as you. The close proximity catches you off guard. When did you lean in this close? 

All of a sudden, every word dies in your throat. But his next words bring more surprise.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jinki cuts through the endless chatter running in your head. That’s not a question you ask out of nowhere, isn’t it? His voice, as usual, is warm… syrupy, but there’s a darker edge in it that you can’t comprehend. You blink at the question, still mute from the shock.

As if shocked by his own question, he visibly gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing and stealing your attention for a second.

“That customer said something about your man.” he murmurs reluctantly. Realization hits you hard, and your jaw drops. So he did hear your conversation with Eunmi.

“No!” You blurt in a rising panic. “There’s no man. No boyfriend.” With each word, your voice becomes more quiet, the embarrassment sucking away your confidence in front of him. But It doesn't help that Jinki’s scrutinizing you from under his eyelashes, making you shrink even more. Finally, the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Really?” He asks, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. She's just teasing me. She does that a lot," you explain with a nervous laugh. You don't know how convincing your lie is, but it makes him hum, the sound is like music to your ears.

“Good,” he whispers before you feel his thumbs rubbing circles on your wrist, languid and relaxed. The calluses of his thumb drag against your smooth skin and you inhale sharply, feeling ripples of heat course through your body from the touch. His half-lidded eyes are now assessing you and you can’t look away as they move on to your lips. As if falling under a spell, the action triggers you to spontaneously look at his lips in turn, full and parted and driving you crazy.

A loud voice jolts you two back to reality. A ringtone. Phone call.

Jinki lets go of your wrist, now panicking and patting his pockets. "It's mine. Where is it, where is it..." When he finds the phone, he picks it up while standing up. "Yes, hyung?"

You see him walk away with clouded senses. Unable to pick which feeling is appropriate to express, disbelief or relief, you give up and run away from the premises, choosing to bury yourself behind the workspace.

+++

"How did it go with your man?" Eunmi asks, face literally glowing after her vacation.

You only groan in reply.

+++

It's closing time.

Moving on to the table top surfaces, you take a cloth, spraying it with a liquid cleaner and getting it ready to wipe the surface. It's going to take a while, but you don't mind. Cleaning makes your mind wander, but at least you're doing something productive.

It's one of the nights you stay late to tidy up new items and play around in the kitchen. You had finished the second attempt of an earl grey frappe before you began tidying up. The clock struck 10 o'clock a few minutes ago, so it's already an hour after your closing time. You already flipped the sign to close, but your lights are still on, intending to turn them off when you leave the store.

Days had passed after that weird confrontation with Jinki. The close proximity you shared that day still brings you heat and confusion in equal amounts, and Jinki didn't make it easier for you to get through the following days. You never addressed that day, not at all. But do things go back to normal? Not exactly.

Jinki keeps getting closer to you. You notice the brush of his fingers against your skin while passing his drink, when you talk on his table he'd tap your arm, or when he's about to leave he likes to give a playful squeeze on your shoulders. On rare occasions, he would tuck your hair out from your face while smiling sweetly before rucking the tresses into a mess. Unhelpful. In addition, you can’t stop talking to him. The man has an excellent capability to extract words from you, asking things about yourself, from your favorite drink to your life before this cafe. 

With the comeback date getting close, it’s not surprising when he doesn’t visit as often anymore. Once in a few days he’d come through your door and then scream your name, saying a nonsensical “I miss you!” Little did he know you share the same sentiment, but multiplied and definitely lack the jest. 

With his absence, your heart longs more for him. You realize the intangible distance between the two of you has decreased, and you can’t suppress your feelings anymore. It’s silly to fall for an idol, cliche, even. But with his soft demeanor and warm smile that always graces his heart-shaped face, it’s impossible not to.

Despite the admittance of feelings, you’re still in a limbo. You’re not an expert in love. Chasing your dream from a young age, you have no time for romance. You’ve had a fair share of crushes here and there, but never this complicated. It’s impossible to ask for advice, too.

Remembering Eunmi's words, you did make your move on Jinki. And his response was something you never quite get. Did he hate it when you touched his hair? Can you even consider making a move that time a success? Do you even know what success would be like? Many times you stopped yourself from touching him again, whether it’s his hair (which is still bright pink, by the way), or to grab his hand for whatever reason. You’re so drawn to him, like a moth to flames and it’s making you helpless.

By the time you finish polishing the last inch of the counters, the door jingles. An annoyed sigh escapes your mouth, someone doesn’t read the sign on your store. You turn to the door.

"I'm sorry, we're already closed—"

Upon recognizing the visitor, your heart beats faster with surprise and inexplicable yearning. You haven’t seen him in days, and you already forgot what he sounds like. He’s wearing another random baseball hat, but the usual mask is absent. His lips are turned into a frown, his brown eyes, usually so full of life, are unfocused, and the eyebags look prominent. The unusual state makes your stomach twist with discomfort.

"Jinki?” You take a step closer. “It's very late."

The mention of his name jerks him back to reality. Raising his head, his gaze locks with yours wearily. Tentatively, he opens his mouth, trying to get words out, but nothing comes out and he looks away, looking so defeated. Running by instincts, you step closer to him, pulling him by the wrist to drag him in. Now with him standing close to you, you can see the tiredness on his face. The little freckles on his skin are like constellations of stars, you notice he’s not wearing makeup, and you can’t help but find the mole on his chin endearing. He looks so beautiful, but tired.

"Jinki," you call out again, worry lacing each word. "Are you okay?"

As if on cue, Jinki lets out a quiet sigh that makes your heart drop. He doesn’t sound like the usual Jinki you know, and you immediately receive the answer to your question. Gathering your courage, you put a hand on his broad shoulder, and take the other to pull his hat off in order to take a closer look at him. You succeed without any restraint from the man. Then, you rub your hand on the fabric of his shirt, trying to give some sort of reassurance, for what, you don’t know yet, but you’re trying. You see Jinki’s eyes glint for a second, and suddenly a head thumps against your collarbone. Oh. Your hands stop moving, and his hat falls to the floor soundlessly.

Jinki sighs again, this time his warm breath fanning over your clothed shoulder, making you freeze even more. Your head is filled with nothing but the close distance you share with Jinki. His forehead presses firmly on your shoulder, the weight starts to feel heavy, so you stand tall, pushing against the man who’s significantly taller and larger than you, with your hands hanging awkwardly by your sides.

"...It's difficult." You hear him whisper.

You try to peek at him, but all you can see is his soft pink locks. It looks fluffy, despite the hat covering it before, if not slightly damp. Quietly, you inhale his scent, floral and musky but mostly covered by the smell of sweat. It must be from a dance practice. For some reason, you don’t mind it.

"I know my limits, and I've been doing this for years," he murmurs into your shoulders, voice weak and slightly muffled but you still can hear every word. "But it really doesn't get easier."

The words hang in the silent air, with no one speaking afterwards. Deciding to stay and listen, you let him there on your shoulder. Questions run through your head, along with many emotions you’ve never felt before for the man; pity, worry, adoration, and surprise, but you don't dare to speak or ask. Not in such vulnerability.

The next minute runs slowly, and the only thing you can hear in the empty cafe is you and Jinki’s breathing. You hope yours doesn’t sound too fast, but you try to ignore the self conscious thoughts for now.

Suddenly, Jinki tenses and pulls himself away, straightening his back that’s been hunching to reach your height. With his face bare from any makeup, you can see a light flush on his cheeks, and his ears are pink, adorably matching with the hair. He's devastatingly beautiful, and you can’t help but stare in awe. Still drowning in embarrassment, he doesn’t seem to notice.

"I'm very sorry," he whispers, formal all of a sudden, voice still close.

"It's okay." You pat his back with a smile, hoping to cease his groundless embarrassment. "You don't need to apologize, I don't mind."

Jinki looks at you for a moment, mouth parted and eyes expressing an emotion you don’t quite understand, then they turn to crescents as he smiles softly. 

"Really?" He asks, voice surprisingly even, a contrast to the state he was in before, and nimbly you nod. "Can I borrow your shoulder again, then?"

Oh. "Y-yeah." Your stomach does the twisty thing and when Jinki once again lays his head on your shoulder, you can hear your heartbeat going faster, thumping softly in your ears. For god's sake, you hope Jinki won't be able to hear or worse, feel them. Without a warning, Jinki shifts his head to the side, and--is he nuzzling? You swear that’s the tip of his nose touching your neck and now there’s puffs of air caressing your veins.

This is too much. It's your first time being this close with him, and it's not the best time to have physical reactions from this intimacy. Ignoring the shivers crawling on your skin, you will yourself to stay still, and even your breathing.

The two of you stay there. Again, you hear Jinki's breathing, then you hear your own. You’re not a physically affectionate person, but all you wish right now is to embrace him properly, to stroke his back and let him stay there for as long as he needs.

So you do that, you raise a hand to his head, caressing his pink tresses. Almost greedily, he leans into your touch, as if he's been waiting for it. With a fond sigh, you can't hold yourself from ruffling his hair further.

“You’ve worked hard.” 

Maybe those words won’t be enough, but you find no fault in trying.

You hear Jinki inhale sharply, then he exhales in resignation before pulling back. He’s now standing at his full height, and you have to raise your head to see him properly. Relief blossoms when you catch his calm expression. With that, you share a moment of comfortable silence, exchanging unsaid words through intangible mediums. Then, you pat his shoulder twice before moving away from his personal space.

“Sit down, I’ll make you tea,” you declare to the now panicking man, rustling to get the kettle. Jinki's face is glowing, despite the lack of makeup. He looks animated, tired, but breathtaking. It's almost like you're seeing him in a new light.

"I thought you're already closing up," he complains weakly, and you offer him an innocent smile, pulling one tea bag from the box.

The sound of a chair being pulled is your winning declaration.

"You don’t have to.”

"And you have to drink some tea. Chamomile can help you sleep better," you chide, bringing the cup to the table. As you sit down, you see him fiddling with his hands.

"So… How's your day?"

"Like usual," you shrug. "But less fun without you." His face lights up and you stifle a laugh. "I made an earl grey frappe, but it still needs something."

"A new drink? Can I try?"

You smile widely. "I'll make it for you next time."

"Make sure you don't put too much sugar in it," he winks, and it prompts a laugh from you. Jinki looks better now, more refreshed and light but you catch him zoning out a few times, his gaze seemingly focusing on your face, making you squirm internally.

"What?" You ask, noticing him staring at you again. And he just grins, showing off the adorable gummy smile.

"Nothing." And he's back to his tea. By the time he empties his glass, he offers to wash it by himself. You almost drag his hoodie to stop him, but you finally relent - he already rushes to the sink, that man - and lets him do what seems to be one of his ways to thank people. Relieved, you start to recognize his usual self once more, so you join him with a lighter heart.

You’re taking off your apron when you notice a solemn expression on his face.

“How are you getting home?” He asks.

"I take the bus from the main street, then I walk for a few blocks."

His face turns dark. "Every night?"

You blink at him, searching the issue. “Yeah.”

"Let me drive you home," he declares, walking to your side. "It's already late."

"It's not my first time going home this late, it's fine."

His eyebrows furrow. "No it's not." Much to your surprise he gently takes your hand in his, like he’s hesitant. After seeing no discomfort from your part, he squeezes. “Please, let me drive you home.”

You know you can’t say no, the sincere concern in his face melting your resistance. You simply nod, requesting a few minutes to turn off the lights and pack your bag. He complies before preparing to leave the store first.

"I park my car near the convenience store.”

"The one in the main street, right?" He affirms, and stops. Confused, you wait until he leans closer. He ruffles your hair, messing with it playfully. You yelp a complaint while he laughs, and suddenly, he puts his snapback on top of your head. 

With that, he leaves the store to prepare the car.

The gesture leaves you reeling, so you hold the cap to ground yourself. Belatedly, you realize this is going to be the first time you go out with Jinki outside of the comfort of your store. You know it’s nothing big, but it feels new, and exciting. And he’s going to drive you home, the gesture feels too intimate.

Arriving at the main street, you catch a sight of a black car parking near the convenience store. Right by its side is Jinki, waiting for you. He notices your form walking towards him and immediately opens the passenger door for you. Seeing you gawk, he grins.

“Come on,” he says, leading you closer with his hand on your lower back. The action makes you warm inside. You go inside the car wordlessly, and he joins in.

Maybe it's because of how late it is. Perhaps tea does have a good amount of caffeine. Regardless, the two of you are way too lively, especially after a long day of work. Jinki keeps playing random R&B songs and almost plays SHINee’s new song by accident, eliciting a gasp from the man and a delighted squeal from you. You keep telling him the directions, and the car strolls from amidst tall buildings to the residential area, where there are only smaller apartments and condos. He takes the final turn, and you excitedly point at one building, your apartment building. It’s a humble one, but you like how the location is far from dangerous areas of the city, and it’s neat. When Jinki finally parks the car, both of you whoop a drunk-like yaaay! while still laughing at each other.

Jinki gets out of the car first, humming sweetly, and you follow suit, the quietness of your neighborhood contrasts deeply with how loud it was inside the car. But it's a nice and welcomed contrast.

You skip to the staircase to the lobby, and you notice Jinki following you before he stops right before the first stair step. Turning towards him, you're not unfazed by the ever present smile on his handsome face. 

The high energy you both share simmers down, turning into a calm and light atmosphere. Surrounded by comfortable silence, you drink in the sight of him, a man that's shining so bright even in the middle of the night, on a sidewalk. However, the moment must come to an end.

"Thank you for driving me home."

"No," Jinki begins, looking straight at you with his dark eyes. "Thank you, (Y/n)."

"Don't mention it," you giggle. Realizing the item on your head, you take it off, offering it to him. "Your hat."

He waves it off. "Keep it until I see you again."

You only grip the snapback since it doesn't look like he's giving you another option. So you nod before taking a deep breath. "Alright then, good night." You exhale, disappointment creeps within your words, unnoticed.

"Wait."

You're about to turn towards the lobby to climb the stairs when his hand grabs yours and unceremoniously pulls you to him. There's a short moment of clarity and your five senses heighten, noticing his smell, his presence and—His lips press unto yours, soft and slightly chapped, you note in a daze. Warm rush of joy fills you, and you're about to return the kiss when he pulls back, the sight of him leaving you speechless. If he was glowing before, now he looks like the sun, all warm smiles and overwhelmingly bright. Even in the dark his pink hair paints an unreal picture. Catching you off guard, he leans in to plant another kiss, this time on your cheek, your disappointment is too apparent because he’s chuckling softly when he drags his lips to your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers hotly, eliciting pleasant shivers down your spine. Leaning back, he waves innocently, gesturing at you to get into the building.  Speechless and flabbergasted, you give a small bow before practically running towards your apartment.

That night, you plop onto the bed feeling giddy like a teenager. Your mind wanders to Jinki, and Jinki only, from how he visited you tonight, how his breath feels against your skin, his laugh, his silly pink hair, and - the kiss. After a glance at his hat, which you hang near your bed side, you giggle into your pillow, looking forward to seeing the man tomorrow. 

Little do you know you're not going to see him again.

+++

Days pass.

The door to your cafe stays silent at 8 o'clock. There is no sight of a tall man in oversized clothes and mask, no sight of his sakura-colored hair. Ignoring the pang in your chest, you hope he's doing okay at work.

But days turn into weeks, and you know he won't be coming back. You hear news about SHINee's comeback, how successful it is and how all the members look mesmerizing and more handsome than ever. You also hear rumors about a certain man. The news say they spotted him a few times with a female, starting from them getting coffee together, to the more recent one, a picture in which the female had her hands in the crook of his elbow, both of them were smiling, clearly head over heels towards each other. People say they look good together, an idol and a famous actress. Even the fans are supportive of their presumed relationship, saying it's about time their oppa settles down with someone good enough for them.

That day, your heart breaks into pieces.

You drown yourself in work. The auntie from your regular bakery comes over to send you a variation of new cakes, asking about the customer behind regular orders of her traditional pastries. With a strained smile, you say he’s out of town, skillfully lying to the lady, and you don’t know when he will return - this time you’re telling the truth, bitter and a hard pill to swallow. The older lady pats your back, a sad look on her face, everything takes time, my dear, she says with a very knowing gaze. You swallow down a cry, unwilling to be seen so emotionally naked in front of her or anyone else, so you tell her you'll visit her tomorrow. Eunmi knows something's wrong. You hide emotions behind your cheerful self but she recognizes a broken hearted person anywhere, especially when it's her friend. So she takes you out to a pocha - a street vendor - near the neighborhood trying to wash away your pain with eo muk tang and soju. Having quite the high tolerance, you can't even drunkenly spill your secrets to her. But loosened up from alcohol, you tell her about your expectations and how it hurts you. You're grateful for her, nonetheless.

Weeks turn into months. The cold season melts into spring, a season too famous for blossoming love and all that bullshit. You never see him again, not on the news, not in person. He becomes a figment of your memory, a shadow that never fully comes into a tangible form that you can touch, or even gaze at. You toss and turn at night, trying to forget a man who managed to capture your heart, then breaks it mercilessly. You want to punish yourself for missing him, longing to hear his warm voice, his sweet laugh, and how happy he made you feel.

+++

It’s one of your bad days.

Granted, you haven’t been in your best state for months now, but you never let it bother your daily routine. Today, however, is just not your day. You wake up with a dreadful feeling in your stomach, like you’re walking on thin ice. So you wash it down with a cup of triple espresso, letting the caffeine induce faux energy in your veins.

Now you're in the bathroom of your cafe, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. You apply more lip tint and you discover it does improve your appearance, now you're less pale, much to your relief.

"With all due respect, (Y/n), you look like shit" was what Eunmi said to you before she left for her job. Grumbling, you give in and finally fix your appearance in the bathroom. Deeming yourself presentable - in fact, you look good, your hair's on point, you note with a grin - you leave the bathroom.

You see a figure standing in the middle of your cafe.

And he is awfully familiar.

Unbidden, a wave of anger hits you. Clenching your fist, you eye the man has been haunting your mind almost every single night. A shadow that somehow has taken his form, now.

"(Y/n)," he stammers. His voice is like a wake-up call, reviving a ghastly affection that you pushed down in your heart. You always like hearing your name on his tongue, luscious and teasing, but it never sounds this bleak.

Jinki looks different, the most apparent change is his hair, which is now dark brown, reminiscent of the first time you meet him. When was that again? Half a year ago? His fringe is slightly longer, a bit wavy and it fits him so well. Begrudgingly you admit his beauty did not fade, he's still as handsome as ever, if not more, and his cheekbones are more prominent, giving him a sharper appearance.

It's clear as day that he's somber, and the fact incites more anger on your part. Inhaling through your nose, you stomp back to your place behind the counter. From the corner of your eye you see his gaze following your movement.

"What would you like to order?" You ask, because even though you're heartbroken, you're a professional.

"I need to talk to you," he says. Of course he does. Nevertheless, you put on a charming smile before his guilt-stricken face.

"Your order, please."

He leans forward. "I'm sorry - " And that's the wrong answer, not when your day is already bad as it is, not when you feel so awful from the moment you wake up in your bed. Especially not after so many questions and non-existent answers on his behalf.

"If you're not buying anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," you say through gritted teeth, your customer service mask slipping off.

After an excruciating silence, he ducks his head, biting his lips, like he needs to stop himself from speaking any further. Then slowly, he walks towards the door. At that point, you should feel triumphant. But the pang in your heart says otherwise as you see his hunched back, filled with disappointment. Before leaving, he turns one more time, looking at you in the eye with a gaze that squeezes your heart painfully.

"I'll come back to visit again."

You watch the empty store, breathing harshly. There's a storm of emotions going inside you, and nothing you do afterwards helps you calm down. You've never been this shaken before, not even when you first heard of Jinki dating on the news. That day, you thought of course, of course he would date the actress. Not someone he randomly kissed after a particularly rough day. Idols are unreachable for a reason. But his reappearance opens a Pandora's box, releasing the feelings you locked in so many months ago.

To make it worse, this time Jinki is not lying. Because the next morning, he's back, he's wearing a black turtleneck shirt paired with slacks and covered by a dark brown coat, looking dashing all while smiling hospitably as he orders a huge americano and a dozen pastries for dine-in. He sits in his usual corner, fiddling with his phone all the while throwing glances at you. It's easy to ignore him with the presence of other customers, but when it's only two of you, it's a whole different kind of challenge.

Surprisingly, the man doesn't attempt to talk to you, at all. Jinki just sits there, waiting. He nibbles on one snack to the other, and continues to wait. You can hear him receiving calls silently, trying to hush his voice, but you hear words like "I'm not coming" and "I'm sorry, but I already told you yesterday” which start to melt the ice that’s settling within you.

The sun is setting when you decide you can't stand it anymore. He's been eating nothing but pastries, he had ordered another glass of coffee and he. Just. Won't. Leave. Checking the time, it's been 9 hours, and you’ve waited long enough, way too long, to get the answers you’ve been asking for.

With dread clawing inside your stomach, you stand up and walk to his table. Jinki notices your presence and immediately perks up. You despise the glimmer of hope in those familiar brown eyes.

"Why are you here?" The tremble in your voice is evident, and you inwardly curse. Jinki, however, looks determined and stares back with a steely gaze.

"I want to talk to you," he states evenly.

"Right now? The store is still open."

The air on his face changes abruptly, and you almost step back, feeling his anger. After throwing you an unexpected sneer, he speed-walks to the door, grabbing your wooden sign and flipping it over from ‘open’ to ‘close’. You stammer a protest, but he's already in front you, looming over with his taller body.

"It's closed." Motivated by desperation, you know he will do anything to get what he wants. But internally you shake off the tingles of warmth you feel when seeing him this assertive. "Can we please talk now?"

You chew the insides of your cheek, biting off your frustration, because you know he got you cornered. With a sigh, you nod. You've listened to many people, many stories ranging from sorrow to joy, and you listen well, quiet and composed. Now, you're anything but. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, uncomfortable with the increasing tension in the air. He remains silent, and you feel more uneasy. When he finally speaks, you should’ve seen it coming.

"I'm sorry." You feel each word stabbing your chest. "I'm sorry for not coming back, I have my reasons so please let me explain first."

You inhale sharply. "You have a girlfriend."

"No, I - "

"You have a girlfriend. Why did you even kiss me?"

Hurt flashes on his face. "She's not my girlfriend. And I kissed you because I wanted to."

Anger rises in your veins.

"Everybody says it. It's all over the news." You hold the urge to sneer, to laugh at his attempt to lie. Jinki’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his hand flailing helplessly. Then, he holds a hand up.

"Give me a minute," he insists before opening up his phone. You're close to berating him for lack of manners but he suddenly holds the phone to you. You look up at him quizzically. He only nods, somber and knowing, so you take it.

You gasp, your stomach churns with dread.

On his phone screen is a picture of the two of you, clearly taken by someone who's not supposed to see it. It was from that night before he stopped visiting, and it has you and him on the main street, right before you enter his car. Your face is hidden by the cap he lent, but he is ushering you into the car with a hand on your lower back. Unlike your features, Jinki's are crystal clear. He’s not wearing anything to cover his face, and his pink hair is bright in the dark. From the proximity, it's obvious what it looks like.

"T-this is - "

"Paparazzi. We managed to prevent the worst case with the help of media insiders, but we still needed to do preventive measures.” At that moment, SHINee was about to start promoting a comeback, if it went wrong, it'd ruin everything. “So, one of my agents suggested I fake-dated another celebrity to cover it up."

Your eyes widen. He stops, and stares at you knowingly.

"I was under heavy scrutinization. The media had their eyes on each and every movement I made. They followed me everywhere." He ducks his head, chuckling with an uncharacteristic self pity in his voice.

"I couldn't visit you. It was too risky. So I waited, and played along with the plan. Thankfully, announcing the relationship was not necessary. The pictures and interactions were enough. In the end, all we had to do was deny the rumors, saying we're just friends who helped each other in her acting gigs. Furthermore, I don't think they managed to publish the original picture. If they did… Let's just say I wouldn't be here."

Silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind is still processing all the things he’d said, but you can feel the blooming hope within your heart, trying to tell you to listen and to give him a chance. 

Jinki inhales, chest expanding before letting out of his frustrations through a harsh exhale. Then, he moves forward, taking your hand with his hesitant ones, testing the waters. Staying still, you watch with anticipation and thundering heart as he pulls your hands up.

“I miss you. I miss this place. Being around you makes my worries disappear, as if the only thing that matters is the time we spend together. I've always enjoyed your company since I first visited this place by chance but…” he takes a deep breath, eyes boring straight into yours.

“I didn’t expect to fall for you." 

Your breath hitches, and he moves closer. Just an inch closer, testing the waters.

"Please, give me a chance. I didn’t mean to stop seeing you. To stop visiting for months, not being able to see your smile… It was a torture.”

With shallow breaths, the aftermath of your shock, you find yourself unable to say anything. Your head is light and dizzy - clouded with emotions after his revelation. He pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss that stills you even further. His eyes are solemn, filled with so much longing that suddenly becomes clear to you.

"Will you forgive me? Can I try again?”

Months of learning to forget and hate him melts away. There's something in your expression that makes Jinki's eyes soften. You miss that gentleness that brings so much life to the man, but most of all, you miss him. Just him. Letting instinct take over, you pull your hands away from his grasp as his face falls.

"You idiot," you murmur helplessly, moving forward only to punch his chest, albeit weakly, ignoring his protests as he stumbles back with a yelp. "I waited. I waited for you but you never came back, I thought you - you got bored of me or something."

"(Y/n), no - "

Something inside you snaps, and you let words come out like a waterfall.

"I like you a lot, Jinki. More than a lot. I-I think I'm falling for you too. I didn't know what to do when I saw the news. It made me feel so bad about myself. And you just kissed me too. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He scratches the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

"W-well, I don't have your number."

Unbidden, you choke out a strangled laugh, noticing the tears that's appearing in your eyes. With trembling fingers, you grab his shirt, hiding your face away in his chest. 

"I waited for you." You repeat, voice hoarse and weak.

With a tenderness you never felt before, he holds your face and frowns, regret paints his eyes darker. 

"I'm sorry, I'm here now."

"Is it even safe for you to be here?"

"It's been months, I'm out of their radar now, my team made sure of it."

"Stupid."

"I know, I know. I am stupid, I'm sorry."

"I missed you." You finally say, and in a second warmth engulfs your body as he pulls you into his arms. The scent that is undoubtedly Jinki, oh so familiar to you, comforts you almost instantly.

"I missed you, too." He says into your hair, and you return his embrace with a hiccup. "Are you crying? I'm so sorry."

You pull back, stubbornly trying to show him you are not crying but he just laughs - bright and warm, shit, you really missed it - cupping your face so tenderly it makes your cheeks burn. But something in your face makes him frown.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Your eyes widen at the nickname and his face falls. "Um, is it okay if I call you that?"

"S-sure," You reassure him, secretly melting inside.

"Good. So, what's on your mind?" He inquires with a hint of worry. You bite your lips, thinking about a question that has been lingering in your mind.

“So that night, when you kissed me… It wasn’t a mistake?”

At that, a smug smile graces his plump lips. Gosh, you even miss this side of him, the one that takes enjoyment in flustering you.

“I never regret it."

Relief floods your heart, and it leaves blossoms of hope. So you look up at him, putting on a cute expression that hopefully melts him.

“Can you do it again?”

He chuckles, not showing any protest before leaning in to capture your lips.

“Gladly.”

+++

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"I parked the car at a market two blocks away from your cafe, I think we're okay, (Y/n),” he sighs, pushing your back for you to start walking. Due to someone’s reckless action, you closed the store hours before it’s closing time, and now you even get to go home early.

You laugh. "Fine."

There's a part of Jinki that will never agree to you going home by bus, hence why he's insistent on driving you home once again. With a lighter heart, you accept.

But contrasting the previous trip, the ride home is silent. You can hear the faint sound of keys jingling against the dashboard, and the constant clack of pedals being stepped on. You turn your gaze to the driver, the sight of his side profile greeting you. He's breathtaking, you think, the mole on his chin is beyond adorable, and all of a sudden, the man turns his face. He offers you a smile before patting your thighs - as if knowing that smile makes your legs weak - and within seconds his eyes are back on the road, leaving you flustered.

Jinki parks the car across your apartment building, bringing a deja vu to the whole situation. You open the door and step a foot outside, thinking of saying good night to Jinki there and then. But he doesn't share your thoughts, because he's already leaving the car, intending to see you to the lobby.

"Alright then," he says softly. "Good night, (Y/n)."

The insides of your stomach twists. You don’t want him to leave yet. Months passed without him in your life, and despite having brighter days ahead within the new relationship, a selfish part of you still wants to spend time with him, making up for the lost time. You don't know what pushes you forward that night, but you’re already pulling the cuff of his sleeves, fingers curling around the fabric.

Jinki turns around, confusion clear in his brown eyes. "Yes?" He's tilting his head, cute.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You blurt out and his eyes turn into saucers. "You haven't eaten a proper meal today. I can make something for both of us."

His surprise melts into a bright smile, his eyes crinkling with happiness. You see his ears turning red. "I'd love to."

You step into your home first, taking off your shoes and changing them to slippers. Gingerly, yet excited, you pull another pair of slippers to give to your guest. It’s a pair of white bunny slippers, with little ears as the decoration. You hope he doesn’t mind the design.

"Oh, thank you," he says, stifling a laugh at the object - rude - before ducking to follow your gesture. Then, he removes his coat, hanging it on the rack, revealing a set of broad shoulders and chest, the fabric of his low turtleneck shirt emphasizing the swell of his arms. You hang onto the sight for a little too long, and by the time you look away, Jinki already has a knowing smirk, amused at your dumbfounded expression. With a huff, you practically rush inside your home, ignoring him.

Without even looking, you know he's scanning your room. You're quite proud of it, because it may be small, but you made it as comfy as possible.  You don't have dining tables, instead you have island counters and high chairs. Gesturing Jinki to sit there, you excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes. As you're about to reach your room, Jinki calls your name. You turn to see him holding a familiar cap from your shelves.

"You kept it with you." He's grinning as he flails the hat, looking all giddy and adorable, and it's contagious.

"Of course, you told me to."

"That I did. But I didn't expect you to hold it after what happened."

He's not wrong. Many times you wanted to throw it away, since it's the only item you have that's left of him, the only string left of the frail connection you had with Jinki. But you couldn't, despite the bittersweet feeling that came from seeing the hat, sometimes you found comfort from it. 

As if sensing the deflated mood, he pushes the hat on your head playfully, pulling a laugh from you which halts when the back of his hand caresses your cheek, his eyes assessing you with intrigue. The same hand ends up on your shoulder, giving a light push.

"Go on, aren't you going to change?"

You scowl half-heartedly, trying to ignore the subtle suggestive tone in his voice.

Quickly, you go into your room to store the hat away and change into your usual attire at home, lounge shorts and a large t-shirt. You stride to the kitchen area and take a second to drink in the sight of Jinki in your kitchen. It’s real. The scene is so domestic you can feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

"Does soybean soup sound good to you?" You ask, now standing in front of the island counter. You laugh internally realizing how similar this is to your usual dynamic at the café. "I have some pork dumplings too.”

Jinki blinks, then he looks at you from your head to toe with half hazed eyes. The way he’s drinking in your form triggers the heat pooling in your belly, especially when he stares at your thighs for a moment too long, and you can't help but squirm under his gaze. It's a truce, you suppose, for you've ogled at him as well. 

"That sounds lovely." His voice is quiet, eyes hazy like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. "Can I do anything to help?"

Bless this man. "Then, can you chop the vegetables?"

"Sure." He gets up and walks to your side, already eyeing a cutting board that’s hanging near the sink. Meanwhile, you’re rummaging through the freezer, acquiring a bag of frozen pork and leek dumplings, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're cooking together and it's so domestic, fuck - you move to the shelves, intending to get the soybean paste container up there. It's not that high, you swear, but you do need to tiptoe.

Then unexpectedly, a hand goes past yours to grab the container. Familiar scent tickles your nose and warmth seeps through your back, with that you know Jinki’s standing behind you.

Sheepish, you turn to thank him but stop when you realize how close he is. He's looking at you with hooded eyes, intense and filled with emotions you're familiar with, because perhaps, you're mirroring it. A rustling sound catches your attention, and you notice Jinki putting the container down to the counter. You can feel the top surface of the same counter digging into your hips, and belatedly you catch up with your situation, it almost feels like you're cornered.

Jinki puts his hand on the counter by the side of your torso. With the rolled sleeves, the muscle of his arms draws your attention once more, his bicep tensing as the hand presses on the surface. Now you're cornered by his strong arm, and he moves the other to your hair, fingers tickling your temples, dragging them slowly to move your fringe out of the way.

"Are you okay?" Asks Jinki, almost rhetorically, voice lower than you've ever heard in all the time you've known him. He smells like wood and a hint of something floral, and you start to feel intoxicated from it. He's moving closer, at first you can only hear his breath, but within seconds you can feel each puff of air on your skin.

You take note of your heartbeat that runs a mile, the way you breathe in shallow intakes, and the wild butterflies in your stomach. You notice how desperately you want him to touch you, kiss you, it's inappropriate. Then, the answer should be no, you're far from okay.

Instead, you gulp. "Yes," you rasp the answer and the corner of Jinki's mouth quirks up, devilish yet sweet.

"Good."

And then he's on you. His lips descend on yours, urgent and feverish, and you melt against him immediately. You know this is not the first time you kiss, but it wasn’t like this before, that one was short and sweet, you didn't think it could be this hot and intoxicating.

His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head to mold your mouth better, the gesture makes you weak and you let him guide you to his will, and by the time he succeeds, you're already gripping his shoulder for balance and support.

Jinki opens his mouth, pulling your lower lip in between his teeth, grazing and teasing it until you accidentally let out a whimper that causes him to inhale sharply. The noise fuels your need to be closer to him, so you kiss him back harder, trying to take any sort of control. But Jinki's not having it,  he puts his hand on your lower back, gripping them tight enough to make you gasp. He uses the opportunity to sneak his tongue past your swollen lips.

Overwhelmed by him, you push your own appendage against his, meeting it shyly. He groans, voice rumbling low like never before and it goes straight into your core. Your lips dance together in a sensual rhythm as the temperature between you seems to increase. Eventually, you grow more breathless, and pull back. He follows suit, detaching your mouth but keeping you close to him. Like tunnel vision, you can only focus on the man who has you in his arms.

Jinki touches your forehead with his, which feels really warm. His whole body radiates heat, like a furnace, and you want the warmth to engulf you more. Pulling back, he cups your face tenderly, calloused thumb rubbing your cheek carefully, as if too much pressure will break you into pieces. You won’t break, but the weight of his gaze does cause you to squirm. Feeling self conscious, you bring a hand up to your face, attempting to hide your disheveled self only to have Jinki tut at the action.

"You always do that." With his large hands, he pries your smaller ones away, showing your flushed face for his delight. He smiles in awe, and you can’t look away.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers.

Elated by the compliment, you mirror his smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips. The harmless peck turns into another heated kiss in no time, with you pressing yourself against him and him parting his irresistible mouth to welcome yours excitedly. Abruptly, he retreats again, chuckling nervously as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"I’m sorry.” He sounds strained. “If we keep doing this, I won’t be able to stop.”

Again you’re reminded of how much of a gentleman Jinki is, how proper and patient he is. But you had enough. With a ridiculous amount of desperation coming from the ever-growing tension in the air between you two, you muster all of your courage. "Then don't."

With eyes as big as saucers, Jinki is about to say something when you take the chance to grab his arm and lead him to the couch in the middle of your room. You're in no rush, you know he knows what you want, and he's following your lead soundlessly. You sit down, he follows suit and you notice the way he takes no time to turn to you, cupping your face as you lean into the palm of his large hand. Despite the gentleness of his touch, you can see the storm in his eyes and how it waits to crash unto you. 

So you end his uncertainty.

"Don't stop." You whisper before leaning in, capturing his lips in a languid kiss. He reciprocates, returning the favor eagerly while his hand wanders on your exposed thighs, the skin to skin contact bringing shivers to your spine. It doesn't take long until your frenzied self shifts closer to him, ending up sitting in his lap, and his lips have left yours in order to explore the skin of your neck. He parts his mouth and starts sucking on your skin, exposed by the large t-shirt. You breathe shakily, positively quivering in his hold. Never would you know the usually calm man can turn you into a molten heat under his touch. 

Wanting to feel more of Jinki, your hand wanders from his chest to his abdomen and lower to his thighs, eliciting a hiss from him. Mesmerized by his reaction, you crave more, so you shift in his lap, moving in a way that will make your thighs brush against the hardness between his legs.

"Oh god," he moans out loud, voice gravelly but still melodic to your ears, it brings a proud grin to your face, provoking his eyes to turn dark. He tuts. "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart."

The endearment alone sends a familiar wetness straight to your core. He smiles, knowing exactly what he does.

"May I?"

You nod, and suddenly his hand is on your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your center, and your breath hitches, knowing how wet you are by now. His other hand travels to your back, sneaking under your shirt to rub circles there, fingers brushing with the back of your bra repeatedly, the sensations make you whimper and the satisfaction on Jinki's face only brings more excitement in your veins. You almost let out a moan, biting your lip when you feel his finger pressing on your core through the pants.

"What was that?" He hums, putting more pressure.

"Don't tease me," you manage out, holding his upper arm with a trembling hand. Your last sliver of pride seems to fire a challenge within him, so you curse out loud when he easily pulls your pants down along with your panties, leaving you exposed. He rubs your thighs appreciatively, making you whimper.

"Jinki, please…"

The way his name sounds on your tongue right now must be so erotic, because you can feel his erection twitch in response. He hums, leaning in to ghost his lips over yours.

"What do you want, sweetheart?"

"Please touch me." Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

Deceptively calm, he slowly spreads your legs, putting one foot on the couch and the other dangling on his strong thigh, and drags his thick finger on your slit. That first contact alone pulls a moan out of you causing him to sigh with appreciation.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Don't say that - "

He gives you a crooked smile. "What? It's true, you're soaked."

It's not a secret that he enjoys teasing you until you lose your composure, but this time he's driving you crazy, and you know he's reveling in it. Losing control, you gasp as you feel a touch on your clit before his finger enters you easily. You bite your lip, closing your eyes as the glorious sensation takes you by surprise, and you lean forward to hide your face in the crook of Jinki's neck. He whispers sweet words, his other hand holds you tightly as the other keeps fingering you. Then, he pulls your body away, raising your chin, his eyes meet your questioning ones. Your answer arrives when another finger pushes into your wet cavern, making you keen. "A-ah - "

"Is that okay?"

The consideration doesn't go unnoticed. You nod, and he pulls you closer for a kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible. It's messy, you keep moaning into his lips, leaning back to pant as Jinki picks up speed, you have to hold a scream when he goes deeper, and crooks his fingers to a spot that rocks your body into a quivering mess.

Your control breaks when he rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling the pleasure building, and you can't stop the euphoric moans coming out of your mouth. Jinki stares at you with wonder in his eyes, appreciating your form as you gasp and pant his name so beautifully.

"Are you close?"

Feeling the intense heat coiling in your lower abdomen, you can only nod, but he persists, taking your chin rather forcefully you almost feel ashamed of how much you like it. His usually warm brown eyes are like molten lava, burning with desire and it lights you up in flame.

"No, tell me, are you close?" He demands with a harsh swipe on your clit and you arch your back in intense pleasure. You clench harder on his fingers, struggling to find words to answer him.

"Please, I'm so close - ah," You haven't finished your words when his hand increases the speed, going deep to rub your inner walls all without warning. You are in a sweet delirium, not caring of anything else at the moment. Your breaths are shallow, chest heaving up and down as your orgasm is teetering very closely.

Knowingly, Jinki looks into your eyes, hunger visible in the depths of brown. But his words are soft. 

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

With a high pitched moan, you let your climax crash into you, pussy walls clenching around his fingers that have been fucking you for a while now. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent that starts to mix with sweat. It calms you, so you breathe in more, still panting from your orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmurs into your hair, peppering kisses on the crown of your head, and you respond with a strained laugh.

"Oh my god, you're insane."

He joins in, ruffling your hair playfully. Looking back up, you see him staring at you with equal parts adoration and lust and the huge hardness underneath you calls your attention.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice is strained yet gentle, slightly concerned with the sudden silence. You look down, and he immediately knows what you're thinking.

"(Y/n), we don't have to - "

"Jinki, I want you." You lean closer, brushing your lips against his alluringly, silencing him. "I told you not to stop. Don't you want me?"

He swallows, control slipping.

"I want you so bad." He whispers, voice strained. He's devouring you with his gaze, hands cupping your face possessively. Intending to push him to his limits, you take his hand and slowly kiss each finger, pressing light pecks on the callused skin. You start sucking on his thumb, and he curses before eagerly pushing the thick finger in your wet mouth, pressing against your tongue. He's a storm about to explode, and you know it.

"Shit, I want you all for myself," Jinki grits out. He grabs your waist roughly, making you gasp around his thumb, before he pulls it out. "I want you begging me to let you cum, like you did just now."

You moan at his words, unconsciously rolling your hips to his, which pulls a pained groan from him. At that moment, you know he can't resist you anymore.

"Do you want it, sweetheart? Are you sure?" He finally asks, and you nod, eyes determined and rightfully desperate. You're a wet mess and you want nothing but to have Jinki inside of you. No longer wanting to wait, you finally go for his ear, whispering your one and only wish for the night.

"Please fuck me, Jinki. Make me yours."

He inhales sharply. With shallow breaths, he tugs you closer, kissing you deeply before shifting you in his arms. You yelp as he picks you up easily and starts walking towards your bedroom.

"There's no way we're doing it on a couch." He winks before dropping you on the bed while your squeal fills in the room.

As if there's a switch, the laughing subsides. With one glance at the man before you, you can only focus on one thing. You rush to pull off Jinki's shirt, and you marvel at his body and all the defined muscles. Taking a little too much time ogling him, Jinki chuckles, but you can hear the slight nervousness, and goes ahead to unbuckle his belt. The action jolts you back into reality, so you help him to remove the offending fabric.

Your hands are trembling, but Jinki's too, and you find comfort from it as you fumble around, too excited to care about anything else in the world.

Growing impatient, you capture his lips again which he responds to eagerly. God, his lips are soft. Your hand goes south to palm him through his briefs, trying to stimulate him more. With a muffled moan, he asserts his strength and takes your hand before flipping your position and resuming the kiss. Trapped under his strong body, you let yours go pliant as his hands explore it greedily.

He all but rips your oversized shirt before pushing you back down on your bed. Satisfied and not being able to hold himself back anymore, he cups your breast through your bra, making you gasp, and he quickly removes it before going straight to tweak a pebbled nipple. Sighing in pleasure, you move your hips upwards, needing some friction. Jinki notices it and smirks.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

Perhaps you should feel more ashamed for your wanton, but there's no remorse, only a painful need for the man before you. Who you’ve waited for so long.

You let out a whine. "Please?"

"Please what?"

"I want you inside me - oh!"

Without a warning, Jinki pushes in two fingers into your heat, the earlier wetness and your own release help in slicking his fingers.

"Like this, sweetheart?" He asks, clearly teasing you, playing with your bundle of nerves, your noises encouraging him to arouse your body further.

"Jinki, please…" You all but beg, hands reaching to touch his body, down to his cock, still in the briefs, trying to send an obvious message to your lover.

With a smile, he pulls out his fingers. Like the patient person he is, he takes his time to take off his briefs, finally freeing his hard cock. You can't help but feel intimidated by his size. Deceptively slow, he strokes himself while peering down at you, enjoying the fucked out look in your eyes and leaving you almost drooling at the sight he provides.

"God, I want you so bad," he grunts. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"It wouldn't take too long if you hadn't left," you whine instantly, making him pout.

"I'm going to make it up to you, okay, sweetheart?" He leans in, peppering kisses on your cheeks while slowly pulling your legs open. “We have all the time now.” You marvel at his gaze, loving and all heat at the same time. After wetting his cock with all your essence, he finally starts pushing in, tensing your whole body.

"Relax," he says, caressing your thighs softly and you nod, letting him push himself inch by inch. God, he's huge and he's stretching you so well.

"More," you whimper and he knows you're growing impatient as well, in one swift motion, he pushes all the way in and makes you moan in pleasure. You can feel his girth around your walls, and you clench unconsciously.

"Shit (Y/n), don't do that." He pulls back while chuckling, the tip of his cock almost leaving your core. "Let me make you feel good first."

You nod weakly, about to say something, anything but get cut off when he pushes in again, this time deeper.

"Jinki," you moan as he replies with a quiet "Okay?" To which you nod.

And he does. He slides in again, and again, and you can't even form words to save your life. His cock feels amazing, fucking you like there's no tomorrow. You pull him closer by the neck, kissing him hard and sloppy. Taking advantage of your muffled mouth, Jinki wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly and making your legs wrap around him before he starts pounding into you relentlessly. He swallows your euphoric screams, only pulling away to enjoy your expression, basking in pleasure.

As soon as his cock hits your pleasurable spot, you gasp out and clench hard, earning a guttural moan from him. "Jinki, I'm - "

"You're close, aren't you sweetheart? Are you going to cum for me again?"

"Yes! Please - oh my god," you ramble before your words turn into a high pitched moan as you feel Jinki's fingers playing with your clit. You're so close, the second orgasm already creeping up to you, more intense than the first. 

"You were so beautiful when you cum earlier, will you show it to me again?" He offers a sweet smile, contrasting the way he's pounding into your pussy and you only whimper in answer. He pinches your engorged bundle of nerves, expression turning dark.

"Answer me, can you, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" You gasp out, the stimulation jolts fire within you. "Yes, only for you Jinki."

With a particularly harsh thrust, you choke a gasp before a wave of pleasure hits you. You can feel yourself clenching uncontrollably, legs shaking as Jinki pulls you closer, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"Good girl, my good girl," he rambles, chasing his own high desperately. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, he gives one last push before groaning in release, spilling his essence inside you. You sigh with content, running your fingers in his soft brown locks. After a moment, he leaves your neck, craning his head up before smiling broadly, the post-coital glow so apparent on his face. You grin, pressing a kiss on his nose, which makes him laugh.

"Hang on," he murmurs, pulling out of you before plopping down on your side. "Hi."

"Hi," you respond, moving to his arms, grinning and giddy from your own high. He wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheeks into the skin of your neck.

"Still up to cook?" He asks, and you realize all the cooking supplies you've prepared in the kitchen. You get up, but he stops you. "Let's just order a takeout. I'll help you clean out the kitchen."

You sigh. "Fine."

"You can cook breakfast tomorrow."

You blink owlishly, which gets a sheepish smile in return.

"Can I stay over?"

A large smile blossoms on your face. "Of course."

“Give me a second then.” He begrudgingly gets up, looking slightly lost for a moment before finding his phone. The sight amuses you so much you don’t realize Jinki pouting as he makes a call.

"I won't be coming back tonight," Jinki says to the phone before a loud shouting blasts from the device. He laughs, looking behind to catch your gaze before smiling wide. "Sure, I'll introduce her later to you."

"Wha - Taemin?" A scoff. "You two have fun, then."

Finishing the call, he crawls back to your embrace in the bed, making you giggle. Jinki hums with contentment before nudging you back, wishing to see your face. You don't know what he sees, but his smile turns softer, and he really looks like the sun.

"You're insane." he half-whispers, and you laugh, boisterous and too giddy. You decide to tease him.

"But you haven't seen nothing yet."

His lips quirk into a devious grin. "Is that a challenge?"

You only smirk in reply, which encourages Jinki to lean up and try to kiss you, but something comes to your mind so you push yourself off him.

"Wait here, we need to clean up." Ignoring his disappointed look, you stand up and start to walk away. Suddenly, you hear a loud rumbling noise. When you see Jinki, he already has a hand on his stomach with only a mild surprise, like he knows it will happen sooner or later. You huff.

"And you need to eat."

He laughs, following suit only to wrap his hands around your waist, seemingly unable to detach himself from you for too long. You grumble, attempting to wrestle away from him. But he's stronger, and holds you so you're looking at him. With a voice as warm and sweet as his favorite drink, he murmurs.

"Just one more kiss, sweetheart, then dinner."

The nickname works like a charm. Albeit having disbelief in his self-control - and yours too, to be frank - you give in, relaxing your body and accepting his lips on yours again, thankful that he returns, excited for the days you'll spend together with him in your life.

[deliciouskeys]

This fic has been entirely inspired by @vanshoundd's Butchlander cowboy AU art. I went feral after I saw it and wrote 3k words as soon as my work week was over. The art didn't need fic, but... um... now you have it.

(thank you for keeping the Butchlander tag alive with your pretty art, Vans)

Frontier Justice. Butchlander.

Billy had just ordered his third glass of whiskey when a blond stranger strolled in through the swinging doors of the bar. The man decided to situate himself on the stool right beside him even though there were plenty of empty seats at the bar at this early evening hour. Billy glanced over as the man took off his bright white leather hat and set it on the stool beside him, wiped the sweat off his brow and took out an actual comb to rearrange his matted hair. He looked so very familiar and Billy was trying to place him. When the barman came over to ask the stranger ‘what’ll it be?’ and he ordered a sarsaparilla, Billy couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Bout what?” the man asked nonchalantly, even as popped the metal cap off the glass bottle the barman took out from underneath the bar.

Billy realized it was odd to be irritated by another man’s beverage choice, but this was ridiculous. “Enjoyin’ that?”

“Yeah?” the other man answered in an equally querying tone.

Looking at him carefully, Billy suddenly pieced together why the man looked familiar. “Say, aren’t you that Jack Lander fellow?”

“Indeed,” Jack answered, taking another long sip from the long bottle neck. “You a fan?”

“Just didn’t recognize you without all ‘em rhinestones and garish boots.”

Jack Lander was a notorious figure in the area. He gained his fame by traveling around with the Wild West Show that went around the bigger towns. He was an incredible natural talent, probably the best marksman this side of the Mississippi, and an expert with the lasso, although Billy always thought it was mostly showy tricks than good old-fashioned useful skills. Jack used to wow audiences with all sort of ridiculous feats like standing up on a galloping horse and managing to shoot glass bottle targets on the run. Billy attended twice before the show shut down, the first time dragged against his will by Hughie, a young ranchhand who was eager to see the show. The next year when the show came around, Billy went into town on his own, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing Jack Lander’s gaudy button shirt with rhinestone highlights across the chest and shoulders, catching the afternoon light seductively. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice how pretty Jack’s ass was in those newfangled denim dungarees you couldn’t get at most supply stores, stretched drum-tight around his hips and legs, a pretty blue color. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t rub one out in his tent that night, remembering the way Jack looked doing all his fancy trick roping.

Jack hmphed into his bottle of root beer. “What was wrong with my boots?”

“Other than the fact they were scarlet red and the spurs were painted to look like gold? Nothing at all.” Billy chuckled.

“Those were for the ladies in the audience,” Jack said flatly.

Jack Lander was certainly a ladykiller, but the reality was there were still not many as many ladies out here as fellows, and Billy couldn’t believe this man didn’t enjoy at least some attention from men on the side. “Didn’t realize it was exclusively for the ladies,” he said, winking, taking the last sip of his whiskey, gauging Jack’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Far from rebuffing the flirtation, Jack finally turned and looked at him, and smiled amiably. He made to clink bottle to glass before noticing Billy had finished his whiskey, and motioned the bartender over to ask for a refill for his ‘friend.’

“I’ll be paying for it,” Billy reassured the bartender who looked at the two of them skeptically. “It’ll be my fourth and the sun ain’t even set yet...” Billy warned Jack as he raised the refilled glass.

“Should have ordered sarsaparilla,” Jack said in sing-song, winking, clinking bottle to glass.

“Why are ya drinkin that vile kid stuff?”

“Because I’m thirsty?” Jack paused before adding. “And I like my hand steady and my wits about me.”

“Wits, huh. Well you might enjoy the conversation with me a bit more if ya didn’t have so many wits about you.”

Jack laughed, flashing his miraculously perfect white teeth, none of them crooked, broken, or worn down.

Billy glanced down to see he had not one but two holsters at each hip. What the hell did he need four revolvers and such a steady hand for? All Billy knew about Jack after the Wild West Show shut down a few years ago was that he started making his living bounty hunting. Sometimes it was runaway criminals, awful men. A lot of the time it was Apaches and Comanches that he’d shoot on sight, which was against the law, strictly speaking, not that there was anyone around here who would ever enforce it. It was a risky and cruel profession compared to driving herds across the plains like Billy was usually hired to do. It was a wonder that not only was Jack still alive, but that he looked not at all worse for the wear, even though his days of sleeping in a comfortable wagon trailer and getting glammed up for shows were over. His outfit was more practical, certainly-- baggier, brown trousers and coat with grime on the lower hems, a wide brim hat with no embellishments, unless one counted the visible salt fronts from head sweat. But he still had a small red bandana tied around his collar, and the shirt peeking out from underneath his coat was still a crisp white cotton number from what Billy could see of it. Billy was surprised at how tempting it was to peel Jack out of his layers and see if he was still a dandy at heart, and if his shirt was tailored to be form-fitting.

They both finished off their drinks, eyeing each other. They got up and Billy paid both of their tabs.

As soon as they walked out of the bar, Jack pulled Billy into the narrow shady alley between the bar and the next building—an inn of ill-repute of some sort.

“Can you really afford to be paying for other people’s drinks, William?” Jack asked in a hushed tone. Billy’s body was responding swiftly to being in close quarters with this man, but he soon felt the end of a revolver pressed into his chest. “From what I’ve heard of you, all you’ve done is rustled some cattle for someone else every now and then. Truth be told, I don’t even know why there’s a large bounty on your head when you haven’t held up a train or robbed a bank or been in any sort of bandit gang.”

Billy smiled wryly. He had his long rifle slung over his shoulder, but there was no way he could defend himself with it now. “Should’ve figured they’d put a bounty on me. Reckon it might’ve been the sheriff I shot over in Bitter Creek.”

“Ah, that’d do it,” Jack grinned, and his perfect white teeth looked more menacing in the shade of the alley. “Why the hell would you do that, William Butcher.”

“You can call me Billy if you’re going to end me. The sheriff was a piece of work, I got on the wrong side of him and it was going to be him or me. I didn’t run afoul of anything, he just took it into his mind that he didn’t like me. He hanged eight innocent people in the span of a few months working at that godforsaken little outpost. Mad with power. But I guess someone like you wouldn’t be judging a man for that.”

Jack smiled, more friendly this time without the rowful of teeth. There wasn’t really anything to lose. Billy leaned forward, despite the barrel of the Colt digging into his flesh, flicked the hat off Jack’s head and full-on kissed his would-be judge and executioner.

Jack inhaled in surprise, but returned the kiss full force, the faint taste of whiskey and the soft drink still on their lips intermingling. Jack eased the gun away, fumbling to put it back in the holster, breathing a quiet muffled moan into the kiss.

“Fuck-“ he said as he tore away. “Jesus Christ.”

“I would like the honor of fucking you. Just once. Before you bring my head in or whatever it is you do for proof of your kills.”

Jack was staring at him, pupils blown wide, still breathing hard.

“Take off your fucking coat. Let me look at ya,” Billy said, surprising himself with how imperious he sounded when he was in pretty dire straits.

Jack obeyed him wordlessly. Took off his coat, but didn’t give Billy much of a chance to admire him-- launched himself right back into the kiss, as if he were parched and Billy’s mouth was water. Jack’s figure hadn’t changed much since the show years, nice tapered waist that Billy instinctively grasped. Jack was a couple of inches shorter than him, and light enough that Billy simply lifted him off his feet, planting him on one of the water barrels stored in the alley. Jack didn’t protest, only pulled Billy in closer, pulling his hat out of the way before kissing him again.

They came apart again. Billy was out of breath too. “I’ll be honest, if you tease me like that I’m liable to just fuck you in the alley. Rather do it somewhere else. Unless you’re in a real rush to get to your next target.”

“Can’t say I am,” Jack said, still catching his breath.

“I don’t have a room at the inn. I sleep in a tent outside of town until there’s another cattle run.”

“Fine by me.” Jack shrugged. “I’ll fuck you under the stars. Inn here’s nothing to write home about-- got lice the one time I stayed the night coming through here before.”

Billy smiled wistfully. They rode out of town, the sun already low near the horizon, and the air quickly shifting from stifling to pleasantly cool to chilly. Jack was following behind him, having taken Billy’s rifle too. Billy thought about how maybe this was all a strange ploy to just kill him outside of the town line. Jack could shoot him from behind, and knowing his aim, he wouldn’t have any trouble dispatching him with one shot to the head, before Billy knew what hit him. But when Billy dared look behind him, Jack would smile, looking eager for what they had planned. No fear that Billy could lead him into an ambush of some sort. Pure unadulterated confidence. Billy found his tent site, and took a few minutes to build a small fire in the stone ring he’d made before. Maybe he was just stalling, knowing that once they did the deed, he was probably not long for this world. He saw Jack’s black boots come into his view once the fire was going strong.

“You wanna get on with it?” Jack said, and there was a note of whininess in his tone.

“Put the guns away, at least,” Billy muttered. “So I can peel you out of that outfit.”

His tent really wasn’t made for fucking—too narrow and low for anything but sleeping. The air wasn’t too cold yet. Billy lay out as many thick blankets as he could on the ground and Jack seemed to have no reservations, starting to strip himself down.

“You a seasoned rider?” Billy asked tugged off his brown pants.

Jack pulled a face. “Ridden my share. Tame, wild, you name it. Just so long as I like the look of it, I’ll ride it.”

This was a fantasy come true. That irritating pretty rodeo cowboy he was so taken with years ago was lying underneath him, ripe for the taking, admitting to wanting it. Billy opened his shirt carefully, not wanting to ruin the fancy tailoring or ivory buttons. The shirt wasn’t pristine white—there were pitstains and a bit of yellowness around the back of the collar. Jack wasn’t as perfect up close as he was in the rodeo ring. He smelled like horses, hay, and gunpowder.

“Reckon I’ll spare you if you’re real sweet to me,” Jack said, a smug smile on his face.

“And what if I’m rough?” Billy asked. He was almost reluctant to do it but reached into his boot and pulled out a sizeable knife that he pressed against Jack’s throat. Jack’s breath hitched, but he didn’t look too unnerved. This sick son-of-a-bitch looked like he was getting a thrill out of it.

“What if I’m rough with ya and take what I want then just slit your throat and leave you here in the desert for the crows?”

Jack was still smiling. “You won’t want to.”

“Why? Cause you’re such a good fuck?”

“Cause I like your style and you don’t seem like the kind.” Jack leaned forward, so that Billy instinctively moved the knife away from his throat before remembering himself.

Billy shoved him down into the blankets, holding him there because Jack kept trying to get up and resume kissing, or maybe intent on getting away and getting to the guns he’d discarded a few yards away. “Soft enough for you? Warm enough?”

Jack nodded. As Billy pulled Jack’s pants off his legs, his cock sprang out of its confines, raring to go. You’d never know they were negotiating who was going to murder whom. Jack Lander was a pretty little thing alright. A deadly, dangerous, unscrupulous little thing with a terrible profession, but Billy didn’t mind.

Billy didn’t want to have the knife in his hand. He wanted to take his time and enjoy this. As long as he kept this self-satisfied little strumpet of a man underneath him, he could probably hold him down with his weight. He threw the knife out of reach and picked up Jack’s legs over his own shoulders. He spat a gob of spit into his palm, quickly preparing himself, testing the body in front of him out with two probing fingers.

Jack squirmed but looked receptive, but when Billy pushed himself inside, there was a grunt of discomfort.

“Don’t have oil on me,” Billy muttered, kneading his hand against the soft flesh of Jack’s ass.

“Didn’t think you would,” Jack shot back, laughing.

Billy spat more into his hand, pulling out just enough to add a bit more to the mix.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Jack said, sneering, moving his knees so Billy’s neck was squeezed tight between his calves. What Billy thought was a vulnerable position for Jack now let him choke Billy with relative ease. Billy shoved his legs down but Jack just wrapped his legs around Billy’s waist, digging his heels into him out of habit, as if even without spurs the motion could cause things to move along faster.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll fuck ya,” Billy gritted out through his teeth and set up a fast pace. He still couldn’t believe his fortune, both good and bad. He never thought anyone would bother looking for him—he hadn’t even shot that sheriff fatally, but he left town to be on the safe side and heard through hearsay that the bastard died of blood infection anyway. But if there was ever a good way to get hunted down this was probably it. If Jack Lander still managed to kill him, at least he got to fuck him first.

It was growing dark and the campfire cast flickering light along Jack’s pale skin, and their shadows against the tent looked elongated and distorted. Their two horses watched them from the post they’re tied to. Jack turned out to be quite a screamer, shouting and cursing into the empty desert when he came, hands going from tight fists to falling completely limp by his side. Billy pushed in quickly, relentlessly, satisfied that he made the other man mewl first. It wasn’t long before he came too. He slumped down on Jack, as much out of physical tiredness as growing mentally weary when he thought about how he’d probably have to kill Jack. At the very least, he’d have to take all the guns and both horses if he didn’t want Jack to follow him to the next town.

“You plottin’ what to do about me?” Jack asked, as if reading his mind. “I’m not gonna kill ya. I’m not gonna turn you in. I don’t need the money. I do this for my own pleasure.”

Billy relented and shifted his body weight off of him, courteously offering Jack the side closer to the campfire, but saying nothing.

Jack moved closer, pressing his body into Billy’s and looking sleepy. Neither was probably planning on it, but they fell asleep in the open air, only waking up when the fire died down and the air had gotten nippy. They shuffled into the tent, Jack falling asleep before Billy, squeezed close, arms in a loose embrace around him.

The next morning Jack was sitting there, watching Billy build another campfire. He looked half-asleep, shivering, wrapped in one of the blankets, with only his head showing and his hair mussed.

“I don’t have any more wood. We’re gonna have to resort to prairie coal this morning.”

“You think I’m so soft? That I never slept outdoors or made do with what’s out here?”

“You don’t look like you have.”

“Well you’re mistaken.” Jack looked away towards the horses before turning back. “I was meaning to ask you... if you were interested in my line of work at all?”

Billy only laughed in response.

“It’s not the most glamorous of jobs, I’ll give you that, but it’s better than doing cattle drives for other people. You might be good at catchin’ these villains.”

“Catching? Thought the point was to kill them. Dead or alive usually just means dead.”

Jack sighed.

“Why’re you so eager to get more competitors in your territory in any case?” Billy asked, finally stepping back from the fire to admire his handiwork, before putting a pot of morning coffee on.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a partnership. I do well enough on my own, but everyone needs a backup now and then. And it gets lonely out on the trail.”

Billy laughed. “Nah, you and I? We ain’t got anything in common. I never wanted to kill people as a profession.”

“Well, I know we’ve got an interest in the same type of night entertainment at least,” Jack muttered under his breath.

Billy stopped himself short when he caught himself imagining that kind of life. It was insane to even consider it.

“You don’t think Lander & Butcher has a certain ring to it?” Jack asked, smiling, unwrapping himself from the blanket and moving closer to the fire, stretching out his hands towards the flames. “We could bring some real frontier justice to these parts.”

[king-bumis-armpit]

A Dirty Chai and a Black Tea with Cardamom, Part 2

A Maiko Modern AU

Summary: Aang, Katara, and Iroh have all decided that Mai and Zuko should be together. But will Mai and Zuko be able to overcome their own insecurities and pursue a relationship?

Link to Part 1 here.

Author’s note: I wrote the last section of this in a coffee shop and someone ordered a dirty chai. I think it’s a sign that this fic is approved by the universe XD XD

As I said in the last chapter, this idea was gifted to me by the absolutely amazing @cowpoopies ! Thank you again!! And– again– thank you to whoever’s reading this. Lurkers, likers, commenters, I love you all and I hope you have an awesome day <3

This one is a bit more unhinged than the previous installment I think. It’s super long for no reason and I fear it may be more ooc and self-indulgent than I originally intended. But I had a good time, so I won’t apologize, lol. I hope you all enjoy it regardless. <3 <3

TW: Curse words.

WC: 5,809

The tea shop was nestled serenely between the neighboring businesses, neither of which were open at this hour. Cars drove by occasionally, but the only other sound in the building was the hum of electricity through the many appliances. The green tables reflected onto the walls, creating a soothing effect.

Despite the calm, Zuko despised early morning shifts. He would never understand how Sokka managed to be so alive and cheerful at that hour of the day or what Uncle saw as the benefit of early rising. Yearning to walk up to his apartment and crawl back into bed, he slumped into the seat by the register and let his head rest on his palm. The ritual was almost meditative at this point, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

The bells on the door jingled, and pulled him back from the brink of slumber. Mai walked in with her friend, and Zuko straightened. His morning was instantly improved. He just hoped she didn’t catch him dozing off again.

The friend– Ly Chee or something– stopped to admire one of the pictures on the wall, and Mai approached the counter. She bit her lip, almost nervously, and Zuko suddenly became very aware that he was looking at her mouth. “Hey,” she greeted him. “Can you make me a black tea with cardamom, again?”

Zuko felt giddy. “Of course, you liked it?”

Mai blushed. “I didn’t hate it.” 

As she handed him her credit card, Zuko asked, “How’d the exam go?”

“I think it went really well. You’ll have to help me with my final too.” Mai gave a small smirk and shot him a wink. Zuko’s heart beat faster. Maybe Katara and Aang were right. He did have a chance!

Sokka materialized, drink in hand, and said, “Here you go, lovely lady.” Zuko frowned. He must have made the drink while Mai paid. It really wasn’t a big deal, but–

Mai sighed. Zuko went rigid. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“It’s stupid. I was actually kind of hoping you would make it for me.” Her eyes met Zuko’s, and he was transfixed. She extended the cup to him, and he folded his hands around hers. “Will you take this back, and make me one of yours?”

He felt sparks where their skin met. “Baby, I’d brew your tea every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Really?” Mai gave him a rare smile and leaned across the counter. She was going to kiss him! Zuko closed his eyes, and leaned forward.

And forward. 

And forward, until he was falling. His face collided with the counter with a resounding bang. Uncle rushed out of the back room.

“Nephew! Are you okay?”

Zuko looked up, dazed. There was no Mai. Or Ly Chee. Or Sokka. It was just him and the old man. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was sore but nothing felt broken, and he’d gotten in enough fights as a teen to know. “I’m fine. I just… dozed off.”

Iroh sighed and examined his face. “I know I don’t normally advocate for this, but maybe you should have a coffee to wake yourself up today.”

Zuko nodded. “I think maybe I should.” Uncle clasped a hand on his shoulder in a silent gesture of affection before returning to the back room. Zuko actually decided to make himself a chai with a shot of espresso. It was what Mai had ordered for himself on her first visit, and he’d never tried one.

She stopped by the shop almost daily now, sometimes with her friend, but she never lingered. Sokka would occasionally make small talk with her, in a way that Zuko envied but couldn’t quite replicate. His attempts always felt stilted and awkward. He knew that it was ridiculous to feel jealous of those mundane interactions when he hardly knew Mai, but he felt drawn to her. It had been a long time, maybe since Jet, that he had crushed so hard. A small dark part of him hoped that Mai was already in a relationship, so that he wouldn’t have to open himself up to potential rejection. 

He was so lost in thought and the making of his own drink, that he missed it when Mai actually walked in. She was standing by the register, observing him, when he finally noticed her.

“Oh! Mai, sorry, I didn’t see you.” He rushed over, but her face didn’t change. He would pay any amount of money for a window into her thoughts just then.

“No problem. I was debating what I should order.” She brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear, and Zuko realized he hadn’t seen her with her hair down before. As expected, it looked really good.

“Well, you already know my favorite thing on the menu,” Zuko replied. Then he remembered his dream and felt a blush tint his skin. He prayed it wasn’t noticeable. 

“That’s right, but I never found out your Uncle’s.” She smiled teasingly. “I’m guessing Jasmine.”

Zuko’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”

Mai blinked, like she didn’t know what to say. “Are you… kidding? Your shop is called The Jasmine Dragon.”

At that moment, Zuko wouldn’t have minded if a chasm opened up beneath him and reclaimed him for the earth. The shop had always been called The Jasmine Dragon for as long as he was alive. He knew logically that his Uncle was the founder, but he had never pondered the implications before. His cheeks were now burning with twice the intensity and he knew it was definitely visible.

“I’d… never thought about it,” he croaked out.

Mai laughed, and– even though it was at his expense– it helped ease the tension in his chest. As far as he could recall, Sokka had never made Mai laugh. 

“Well, in honor of your Uncle, I’ll take a Jasmine tea.” Mai pulled out her wallet and Zuko rang her up. 

“Are you sure that will be enough caffeine to keep you going? We use a green tea base.” Zuko teased. Normally Mai ordered black tea or coffee, and she often added espresso shots. 

“It should be fine,” Mai replied. “My midterms are finally over so I’ve actually been getting sleep. What about you? Do you have any exams left?”

“Nope, a lot of my professors went with papers or projects this year instead, but I turned in my last one yesterday. So I’m really looking forward to going out this weekend.” Zuko decided to do some reconnaissance. Katara felt confident that Mai was single since she hadn’t mentioned anyone, but Zuko wanted to be sure. “Aang and Katara are really chill, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you wanted to bring someone.”

Mai rubbed her arm, “Oh, well… Ty Lee is going out with her new girlfriend this weekend.”

Zuko looked at her blankly until he realized that Ty Lee was Ly Chee’s real name. Then, he smiled, “I see. Is that why you’ve been flying solo? She doesn’t need to stare at Sokka for eye candy anymore.”

Mai’s eyes widened. “You all knew about her crush? I’m so embarrassed.” She ran a hand through her hair and Zuko tried not to be mesmerized.

He chuckled. “We didn’t know for sure, but Toph had a hunch. And for the record, I don’t think it’s embarrassing. Maybe a bit for Ty Lee, but not for you. You were just a bystander.”

Mai shook her head. “Toph’s hunches are always right. Anyway, I hope you're not expecting me to stop coming in. I’m officially hooked.”

Mai was never this talkative, and it filled Zuko with confidence. Maybe he could borrow a line from his subconscious. “I’ll brew your tea any day. You’re way more interesting than most of our customers.”

It was Mai’s turn to blush. “I– oh– thank you.”

And then Zuko realized he had not, in fact, started brewing her tea. As he fetched the tea leaves, he kept up his conversation with Mai. “How was Philosophy of Law?”

Mai sighed. “It was just as awful as expected. But I think I did okay. Jeong Jeong takes forever to post his grades so God only knows.”

Zuko hummed sympathetically. His concentration was on pouring hot water into the small personal kettle. Mai leaned over the counter, and watched with interest. “I’m impressed. I was lowkey expecting a tea bag.”

Zuko laughed. “Oh no! Uncle prefers loose leaf. He’s also especially particular with Jasmine, since flowers are involved. And don’t get him started on brewing times. When you hand people a to-go cup with a tea bag, they leave it in there all day. If you over-steep, it gets bitter and–” Zuko stopped. “I sound like him, don’t I?”

Mai smiled. “You really do. But that’s not a bad thing. There are worse people to emulate.”

Zuko smiled and went to grab a paper cup for the tea. The store had a few different branded designs, but he always gave Mai the red dragon one, since it was his favorite. Soon enough, the tea was done steeping and he poured it and snapped the lid into place. When he turned back to Mai she was fiddling with a small piece of paper. 

“Here you are,” he extended the cup and she offered him the paper in exchange.

“Thanks. Umm. I thought you should have my number. In case anything comes up before we hang out on Saturday.”

Zuko accepted the paper and forced his voice to stay casual. “Thanks. You’ll have to let me know how you like the tea.”

“Of course.” Maybe he was imagining it, but Mai’s cheeks seemed pink as she made her way to the door. 

Against his better judgment, Zuko felt hopeful.

— — 

Zuko: Zuko here :)

Mai: Hey. I liked the jasmine

Black w/ cardamom was better though

Zuko: Yes! I can’t wait to tell Uncle

He’ll say I brewed it wrong, but that’s bs

Mai: Don’t get too big of a head. He’s still my fav barista

Wait, actually it’s Sokka, lol

Zuko: -_- 

Talk about a big head. Don’t tell him you said that

Mai: Jk jk. You’re pretty cool ig

You did help me get an A on a JJ exam

Zuko: NO WAY 

The grades are in? Congrats! 

Mai: It’s all thanks to you and Katara. Seriously.

Zuko: I’m always happy to help

You know where to find me

— — 

Mai leaned against the wall of her dorm, waiting for Aang to pick her up. He offered to be the designated driver for the evening. Mai wasn’t going to drink, but she was more than happy to not have to deal with parking in the city.

She wondered if Zuko would be riding with them. Oh Zuko. She’d thought about him much more than was normal to think about your barista/tutor. She read and re-read their text exchanges, looking for evidence of flirting. Every time he messaged her, Ty Lee could immediately tell from her face, which was not good. Mai and Ty Lee had known each other since childhood, and yet the other girl had never known what she was thinking. Until now. 

And Mai, who considered herself decent at reading people, had no idea where to begin with Zuko. Most days when she went to the shop, Sokka and Uncle Iroh were the talkative ones. On the day she gave Zuko her number, he seemed much more open. But he had also asked her if she wanted to bring another person to the hangout, and that could only mean Ty Lee. Mai couldn’t shake the feeling he had a crush on the pretty gymnast. 

Then again, he seemed to know about her feelings for Sokka. And he called Mai interesting. And offered to brew her tea anytime.

But brewing tea was his job. He was constantly offering to brew people tea. And what if he saw Mai as an opportunity to get closer to Ty Lee? It wouldn’t be the first time, but normally Mai could sense such buffoonery before the guy even opened his mouth. Maybe Zuko's hotness was blinding her to his ill intent. 

She was over-thinking in circles. Maybe Zuko was normal and didn’t like anyone in particular. Or maybe he had a partner.

Mai ran a hand along the brick building. A memory came to her mind, unbidden. Her and her parents here at accepted students weekend. Her mom pulling her aside. Giving her one of her talks. 

“Mai, you really should be making more of an effort to smile. You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

Mai rolled her eyes. “You made me change out of my skirt this morning because it was too short. I thought I wasn't supposed to be catching flies.”

Michi stood imperiously, not even glancing in her daughter's direction as she spoke. “You don't want that kind of a man, darling. You want a husband.”

Mai wanted neither in that moment, and couldn’t quite tell the difference between the two. “I’m going to this university for a reason. So I won't need a husband.”

Michi arched her brow. “This is not the caliber of institution your father and I imagined for you.” Mai knew that well. It was part of the appeal. “Besides, you said you want to study philosophy? You’ll need a husband.” With that, Michi decided the conversation was over and went to walk through the dorm open house.

Mai contemplated staying at the side of the building and moping, but that would only hurt her and not her mother. She could point out that Political Science would be her primary major, and philosophy her secondary course of study. But her mother wouldn't remember no matter how many times she said it. Mai sighed. She donned disinterest and trailed after her parents at a distance. 

Here she still was. A college sophomore with a decent GPA, one close friend, and no self-esteem. She didn’t want a husband, but she wanted… something. Something that she had lacked in her previous relationship with Kei Lo. And she didn’t know how to untangle those desires from the pre-programmed path her parents wanted her to follow. 

Aang’s car pulled up– just five minutes shy of saving her from an existential crisis– and Mai saw Katara in the passenger seat and Zuko in the back. The thought of sitting next to him now made her slightly nauseous, but she had decided to be social today.

She composed herself and marched to the car. Aang greeted her as she sat and clicked her seatbelt. “Hey! It’s really nice to see you again.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s really nice to see you too. Thanks for inviting me out.” 

Aang gave her a winning smile. “Don’t even mention it.” He knocked on the dash twice. “Yip yip!”

Mai opened her mouth to ask, but Katara explained: “It’s for good luck. Aang’s car is like a hundred years old, so it breaks down sometimes. I’ve been telling him to just get a new one–”

“Aww,” Aang cooed. “Don’t listen to her, buddy. I’d never replace you.”

Mai found herself somewhat taken in by the bald man. He was quirky, but in a charming way. She could see why Katara liked him.

Zuko cleared his throat from the seat beside her. “Umm… hi. Uncle wanted me to give you this.” He extended a hand and offered her a small paper.

Mai noticed it was a voucher for a free drink. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Oh!” Zuko scratched the back of his neck. “I might have mentioned that you got an A on the exam and he said you should celebrate.”

Mai accepted the paper hesitantly. “Aren’t we… celebrating now? With dinner?” Zuko shrugged. “Okay, well, thanks.”

Mai didn’t want to appear ungrateful, but now that the exam was over it didn’t seem so monumental. Maybe Zuko did like her after all and it was an excuse to get her to come back to the shop! No, that was reading too much into it. Besides, she went to the shop everyday now, so his uncle was probably just being kind to a loyal customer. Her crush was clouding her mind an almost concerning amount. Maybe she should take a break from seeing Zuko after this.

Silence filled the car for just long enough to be awkward, and Aang turned on the radio for the rest of the ride. 

They had settled on a Mexican restaurant that Aang and his friends apparently went to quite a bit. The server recognized the group, and led them to a booth in the back.The location was quieter than the tables, but it was directly under a vent. Mai cursed herself for not bringing a jacket. Aang and Katara sat together, naturally, which left Mai next to Zuko. She was hyper aware of his proximity, but not unpleasantly so. In fact, with the chill she wished she could slide closer.

The server took their orders almost immediately since everyone else knew the menu. Mai– not wanting to make everyone wait– copied Zuko’s order and hoped for the best. And there were chips and salsa if Zuko secretly had terrible taste. 

Aang piped up, “You’re in your second year, right Mai?”

“Yeah. Same as Katara,” she replied. “What year are you?”

“I’m a Freshman.”

Mai was surprised. She could have sworn she’d seen Aang around last year. “Does that mean you all just met in the fall?”

“Oh no,” Katara said, leaning into Aang’s side casually. He wrapped an arm around her, smiling. Mai felt her singleness acutely. “Aang went to high school with Sokka, and I. And he’s been living with us for a few years.”

“And Sokka’s a junior?” Mai asked.

“Sokka and I are both juniors,” Zuko explained. “I met everyone when he started working at the shop.”

Mai nodded, trying to absorb all the new information.

“How did you meet Ty Lee?” Aang asked.

Mai took a moment to consider the question. “I honestly don’t remember. Our parents were friends, so we’ve known each other since we were really little.”

“Aww! And after all this time you’re still friends and you decided to go to the same college? That’s really sweet,” Katara said.

Mai hummed noncommittally. “I’m glad Ty Lee decided to stay close but I think the reason she chose to go where I wanted is because she doesn’t care about college at all. If she had her way, she’d run off and join the circus.” Aang laughed, but Mai’s expression remained unchanged. “I’m serious. When we were little we made this whole plan. She would be an acrobat, and I would be a knife thrower.”

“That makes sense since Ty Lee’s into gymnastics. But why did you choose knife-throwing?” Katara asked.

“What do you mean?” Zuko interrupted. “Knife-throwing is like the most badass part of the circus. What else would she do? Juggle?”

Mai laughed. “No, Katara’s right. I actually do have a reason. I’ve been taking knife-throwing lessons since I was seven.”

Everyone at the table stared at her, until Zuko burst out: “That’s so fucking cool!”

Katara agreed, “That’s– like– amazing, can you teach me?”

“Wait a minute,” Aang held up his hand. “That’s awesome, but why did you start taking knife-throwing lessons?” Zuko made to speak and Aang pointed at him, “Other than generally badassery.” 

Mai blushed. She was always slightly embarrassed to tell this part of the story. “I loved this comic series as a kid, and the main female character was a knife thrower. I hated school, so my parents made a deal with me that if I got good grades I could keep going to my knife-throwing lessons.”

“Hang on,” Zuko grabbed her arm. “Are you talking about Nanami from The Adventures of Piandao?”

“Yes, wait, you know the series?” Mai asked.

Zuko smiled. “It was my favorite as a kid! My sister and I used to have fake sword fights all the time. But nobody I’ve met has ever read it.”

Mai sympathized. “I know! I tried for ages to make Ty Lee read the first volume but she never would. I think it’s the art style. I should check it out from the library and give it a re-read.”

Zuko looked smug, and Mai raised an eyebrow. “What if I told you that I had the whole collection and you could borrow whichever ones you want?”

“Then maybe you would be my favorite barista,” Mai smirked. 

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Nevermind,” he teased. “Anyway, I think you should start your reread with the blue spirit arc. It’s the best one.”

“You have got to be joking!” Mai noticed that Katara and Aang had grown bored of the conversation and were having their own. “Nanami is the best character and so the best arc is the Lady of a Thousand Blades, where she’s introduced.”

“But she has that whole fight scene with the blue spirit!”

Mai rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and he wins because her dart holsters jam. Then, Piandao has to rescue her. Like that would ever happen. The author is a coward and a misogynist.”

“Oooooooooor she actually lost because her focus was compromised…”

Mai groaned. “You ship the Blue Spirit and Nanami? Who even are you?”

Zuko’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? Of course I ship the masked vigilante and the knife-throwing warrior. They would be such a power couple.”

“This is why Sokka–”

“If you say Sokka’s your favorite barista again I’m gonna scream.”

Mai laughed. “I overplayed the joke? I’m sorry.” She felt a cold rush of air from the vent and shivered.

“Are you cold?” Zuko asked, sounding slightly concerned.

She rubbed her arms. “It’s fine, I just normally wear long sleeves.”

Zuko took off his zip hoodie and extended it to her. “Here, take this.”

Mai accepted it, but made no move to put it on. The fabric was softer than she had imagined, and still radiated Zuko’s warmth. “Are you sure?” she asked. The gesture felt momentous somehow.

“Of course,” Zuko assured her. “I run hot.” 

“Oh really?” she deadpanned. “I’d like to see that.”

Zuko nudged her lightly. “Shut up and accept my kindness.”

Mai snorted. “You are a true gentleman. I can see the influence of Master Piandao within you.” She slid the hoodie on. Their food arrived shortly after. While Zuko was distracted, Mai discreetly inhaled the scent of the garment. It smelled a little bit like the tea shop, a little bit like the library, and strongly of Irish Spring soap. She liked it. A lot. 

— — 

Mai: I still have your hoodie

Zuko: That’s okay. I have others

You can bring it to the shop sometime

Mai: Ok. I’ll probably come in later today

I can’t study without tea now

Zuko: If you need a break from studying, you can borrow a Piandao comic

I’m not working today, but I’ll be in the building

Mai: I don’t want to bother you on your day off

Zuko: You’re not a bother. You’re my friend

Mai: I’m friends with a Blue Spirit x Nanami shipper :0

Zuko: Guess so :P 

I only lend books to friends

Mai: Valid. Acquaintances can’t be trusted

Anyway, I think I’ll take you up on your offer

Zuko: Great! Text me when you get here

— — 

Zuko paced his room, occasionally reorganizing the knick-knacks on his desk. Yesterday’s “double-date” had gone better than he imagined. Mainly because he kept imagining worst-case scenarios. But thankfully, none of them had come to fruition. Instead, he and Mai had talked the whole night, about their favorite comic series, their shared major, awful professor stories, and favorite foods. He fell asleep replaying the conversations in his head. 

He needed to ask her out soon, before he lost his nerve. 

And it seemed would get his opportunity when she came for the comic. 

He scanned his room for the nth time, hoping that it looked presentable. He kept the space neat, but it was fairly small. When he leaned back far enough in his desk chair, he hit the edge of his bed. On the wall in between the two, he wedged a secondhand bookcase, home of the aforementioned comics and his other favorites. He purposely stored his school books in a bin at the bottom of his cramped closet so he wouldn’t have to look at them unless he needed to. 

He used to have a much larger room when he lived with his father, but… well… this was preferable by far. He had some family pictures on a shelf above his desk but none of them featured that man. 

His phone buzzed.

Mai: I’m here

Save me. Sokka’s making a joke about boomerangs

Zuko laughed, and made his way down the stairs and through the back room. By the time he arrived on the scene, however, Mai was speaking with Uncle instead of Sokka. 

“-- and he had the cutest little fascination with ducks. He used to beg me to take him to the park to feed them. He named them all too!”

She laughed demurely, and Zuko’s cheeks flamed.

“UNCLE!” he ran up to them. “Do you have to tell everyone that story?”

“What?” Uncle put on his best impression of innocence. “I think it’s cute.”

“That’s not–” Zuko’s voice cracked. “That’s not the point.”

Mai, still smiling, came to the old man’s defense. “It is kind of cute.” Zuko noticed she was holding his hoodie with both arms crossed around it in a form of embrace.

“I-I guess so, yeah,” He found himself agreeing impotently. 

Uncle chuckled. “You two have fun!” Zuko could see the gleam of mischief in the tea-maker’s eye. If embarrassment were lethal, he would be in critical condition. 

He escorted Mai behind the counter and back to the safety of his room. “Sorry about Uncle. He’s…”

“He’s lovely,” Mai cut in. “You don’t have to apologize.” Zuko felt himself fall a little bit harder.

Mai took in the small room for a rather long time, expression impassive, and Zuko worried that it had failed her test. She looked at him with expectation, and he realized she was waiting for him to take the lead. “Feel free to sit anywhere.” He gestured awkwardly at the chair and the bed. She opted for the chair, so he sat criss-cross on his sheets. 

She tossed his hoodie at him and it landed in his lap. “Thanks for letting me borrow that.”

He recalled how she looked wearing it, and he swallowed. “Oh, yeah, anytime.”

She swiveled the chair to face the bookcase. “So this is your collection? I’m jealous.”

Zuko smiled, “Well, I’m giving you unrestricted access, so don’t knife me down.”

Mai chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the term is stabbing. And I don’t stab my friends.”

“Good policy.” Zuko watched her run her fingers over the spines before choosing a volume to flip through. He had referred to them as friends earlier in the day, but the word felt like an obstacle now. 

Mai turned her scrutiny to the shelf above the comics, and Zuko bit his lip. It felt strangely intimate to be sharing the contents of his personal library so openly. Mai selected one and Zuko recognized it immediately as Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson. “Did you read this for Prof. Pakku’s Mass Incarceration class?”

“No, actually,” he replied. “I read it in high school. It’s actually part of the reason I chose to study political science.”

Mai nodded. “It’s very inspiring. Do you want to work as a defense attorney?”

“I think so. I’ve always thought about going into law because my dad is a lawyer. But when I read this book, I realized that he has never once used the power he has to help people.” Zuko could taste the bitterness in his own voice. His scar itched. “When I discovered that there was a different way of doing things, it kind of frightened me at first. I truly didn’t know that kindness was an option. God, that probably sounds so fucked up.” He winced and looked away.

But Mai reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “No… it’s more relatable than you think.” Her touch was light and she removed her hand too soon. 

As she put the book back on the shelf, Zuko cleared his throat. “Anyway, why did you choose poli sci and philosophy?”

She sighed. “Honestly, my high school guidance counselor told me I had an aptitude for philosophy. And political science sounded like the kind of thing that my parents would approve of.” She rested her chin in her hand, and she looked like the sculpture by Rodin. “I know it’s callous, but my parents are more into image than impact.”

Zuko shook his head. “I promise you, I understand that completely. But maybe we can do something better, right? Ever since moving in with my uncle, I’ve seen the amount of good that actually exists in the world.” 

Mai smiled. “You sound like a hero. Seriously, you sound like you could be in a Piandao comic or something. I think you, and Katara, and Aang are all going to do amazing things one day.”

“What about you?” he asked.

Her expression returned to calculated calm. “I’ll probably be drinking tea somewhere.”

“All right then.” He nudged her foot with his own. “I’ll brew your tea while you write groundbreaking legislation… or philosophical treaties.”

Mai chuckled, and reached for another comic.

— — 

Ty Lee: Are you still alive?

Mai: Yes?

Ty Lee: Again, but with confidence

Mai: Yes! I’m alive

Ty Lee: Good

I was starting to think Zuko murdered you

Do you even know what time it is?

Mai: Oh shit

I actually didn’t

Leaving soon

Ty Lee: Take your time ;)

— —

Mai swore that time passed differently in Zuko’s room. She felt like she was only there for an hour at most but she checked her phone and realized it was 8:30 and the tea shop was closed for the day. So much for her homework.

Her conversation with Zuko about the future had deeply affected her. He and his friends had such a passion for the world. It was a skill she was only just learning about for herself. A dull blade in her arsenal. For so long, she had walked through life with numbness and composure, believing it was enough. 

She didn’t want that anymore. Could she do something useful? Like write ground-breaking legislation?

Maybe being around Zuko and his friends would… help.

Zuko let her choose a few of her favorite Piandao volumes, and before they went downstairs he tried to offer her his hoodie once more. “It’s probably cold outside now that the sun is setting.”

She’d been lying if she said she wasn’t tempted. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of my returning it today?”

Zuko shrugged. “You can just bring it back with the books. Like I said, I have others.”

Mai accepted it after some consideration. “I’m starting to think you just like seeing me.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” Zuko blustered as he led her down the stairs and out into the empty shop. Iroh was the only person who remained, as cleaned the machines and tidied up for the night. 

Mai paused at the counter. “Thank you for inviting me over. I’ll see you both soon.”

“Of course, enjoy the comics–”

“Wait!” Uncle Iroh held up a hand. Mai jumped, not expecting an outburst from the sweet old man. “Aren't you going to walk her home, Zuko?”

Zuko’s face reddened. “I– Umm– Well– Uh–”

Mai came to his rescue. The poor guy had just spent all day with her, and he was probably done. “That’s okay. I’m trained in self-defense, I don’t need an escort.”

Iroh nodded, “That’s great! I’m glad my nephew will be safe with you. But honestly, I wasn’t thinking about practicality.”

Mai tilted her head in confusion, and she was going to ask what he meant when Zuko sprang into action. He grabbed her hand and led her to the door. They moved so quickly that the familiar tables became a green blur. “You’re right, Uncle, we’ll be going now.” The bells rang loudly as he swung the door open and let it slam behind them. 

He marched her out of the shop and all the way to the end of the street before releasing her hand. He looked away and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. Uncle, isn’t exactly… subtle.”

Mai pulled Zuko’s hoodie tightly around herself. It was cold and Mai was glad she accepted it once more. “Don’t mention it. And you don’t have to walk me all the way to my dorm. I know it’s late and you probably don’t want to be out here in the cold…” She caught herself rambling, an unfortunate habit that she believed to be a relic of her youth.

Zuko looked at her and narrowed his eyes. “Do you really not know?”

“About what?”

He took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself for something. “I like you.” Mai blinked. “I have a crush on you.” Mai blinked again. “But, uh, you probably don’t feel the same way and I totally get that. You can keep the books and the hoodie and I can get you the schedule for when I work so you can avoid me but still go to the shop–”

Mai snapped out of it. “I like you too.” 

“Really?” Zuko asked in a small voice. Beautiful Zuko. The hot barista. The brilliant upperclassman. The boy who wanted to change the world. He liked her. And he was looking at her with such joy on his face.

Mai felt giddy. She laughed. “Yes, of course.”

“Wow,” Zuko breathed. “You're so cool, and so hot, and so smart. I thought I never stood a chance.”

“Shut up and kiss me right now.”

He obliged, caressing her cheek and leaning in. It was awkward at first. Mai’s hands were full of books, and Zuko’s nose brushed against hers. But when their lips fit together, it felt right. It tasted like black tea, and espresso, and the spices in chai.

They pulled apart, reluctant and shy once more. Zuko, still leaning close, whispered, “You’re just so out of my league. How do you not see that?”

Mai felt her pulse flutter. “Hey, that line only works once.” Zuko blushed and Mai laughed. “Besides, don’t sell yourself short. You’re really kind to your uncle and you’re good with school. And, as I said, you’ll be a hero one day,” she teased him lightly.

Zuko smiled at her. “Oh please. If anything, I’m your sidekick. The butler to your Piandao.”

Mai laughed. “Okay then. How about we ride off into the sunset now?”

Zuko wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Gladly.”

[ugh-yoongi]

the dogs of war | ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: politician au, lite enemies to lovers; crack, fluff

warnings: use of US political positions & terms, swearing, bickering, alcohol, a lot of bad jokes, unedited because i think i've kept these requests waiting long enough. if there's anything glaringly bad, though, lmk.

wordcount: 2.3k

had a few seokjin requests in my inbox from the valentine's day drabbles, so i decided to combine them into one fic:

bare — as they get undressed, the sender gently places a soft, tender kiss against the receiver’s bare shoulder.

"i really don't know if this is a yes."

"you need to stop doing that." / "do what?" / "that little eye thing you do when i walk into the room."

You’re not even sure what this gala is for.

The hospital? No, the last one (two?) had been for the hospital. Needed pretty, important people to dress up in pretty, expensive clothes to raise money for their new wing (board members’ salaries). You know it’s not for the police union, because you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those, and you’re almost certain the gala for the animal shelter was the one you’d shown up late to last week.

So, yeah—you’re stumped.

Not that it really matters. You’ve fulfilled the requirements and paid the ticket price. Poured yourself into a dress that is, admittedly, a size too small; a dress you will probably have to cut yourself out of later on. Got your hair and makeup and nails done real nice. Rented jewelry three times your annual salary. There isn’t a person in this place that has taken dress pretty, look prettier more seriously than you.

Well, until.

“You need to stop doing that.”

You roll your eyes. Pluck a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and down it in one go. “Stop doing what?”

“That little eye thing you do when I walk into the room,” Seokjin answers, crooked fingers moving to work at his stupid bowtie. “You can’t possibly expect to be the best-looking person in every room, especially when we’re forced to attend the same events.”

You huff. Privately, because you’d be better off dying than letting Seokjin know he’s successful at getting under your skin. “I can and I do.”

“Well, we all have a tragic flaw.”

“What’s yours, then?”

“Let me rephrase: most of us have a tragic flaw. Not me, though.”

There’s still forty minutes until dinner. Forty minutes until you will once again be forced to sit next to Seokjin and watch as he effortlessly charms the entire table. Watch as people foolishly trip over themselves to get on his good side, laughing at his stupid jokes, complimenting his perfectly-styled hair and his flawless skin and his suits that cost far too much money for a person who claims to be a socialist.

“I’m voting no on your most recent proposal, by the way. Figured I’d get that out of the way early.”

Seokjin sputters, chokes on a hors d'oeuvre someone had probably bent over backwards to hand-deliver to him on a little plate. “What? Why? I specifically wrote in all those stupid provisions you requested.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Fuck you,” he whispers, “I spent months—”

“That’s politics, baby.”

“You’re gonna be the only one,” he accuses, borderline seething, as if you don’t already know this. “Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are finally on board, so you’re gonna be the lone dissenter. Might be really embarrassing for you.”

“It won’t be,” you assure him. You might be petty and spiteful (you are in politics, after all) but you’re not an idiot (you are in politics, after all, so maybe that’s not true). “Section nine, subsection twelve. That’s my get out of jail free card.”

“That’s the proposed redistricting map. The one you wanted.”

You offer up a smile, pinch at Seokjin’s cheek. “Exactly, and you spelled one of my town’s names wrong. Therefore, I cannot, in good conscience, vote for it. What would my constituents say?”

“You’re tanking this entire thing over a typo? I’ll call Namjoon right now and have him fix it.”

“The Namjoon that’s currently at the open bar going shot-for-shot with Jimin? Looks a little green? Good luck. At least I hired a Chief of Staff who can hold their liquor.”

Steam practically pours out of his ears. He certainly looks to be on the verge of a mental break, what with the angry flush that’s taken over his entire upper body. “Have you forgotten we’re on the same side here? What happened to party loyalty?”

“Oh, Seokjinnie,” you intone, “there’s no loyalty in gerrymandering.”

He scoffs. Grabs so forcefully at his own flute of champagne that he knocks the poor waiter completely off-center. Now he has no flutes of champagne and the floor has ten.

If looks could kill, this would be your funeral instead of whatever this gala is for.

As luck would have it, you do get seated next to Seokjin.

He’s usually the life of the party. Is usually cracking jokes left and right, wrapping every laterally-important person around his finger. He’s always the first person everyone looks to for a reaction—if he laughs, it’s all good; if his jaw clenches, everyone treads lightly. Either his phone or his checkbook is always out, but tonight there’s nothing more than the proverbial storm cloud over his head.

“I worked on that for months,” he tells you for the fifth time in the span of an hour. “I cannot believe you.”

You take a delicate bite of your dinner. Smile for the camera that leaves stars behind your eyes when the flash goes off. “Uh-huh.”

“This is just so typical,” he continues, seemingly uncaring who can hear him. “I bend over backwards to give you whatever you want, and you stab me in the back the first chance you get. You’re no better than the Roman senate.”

“You want me to start calling you Seok-julius? I’ll be honest, it sounds pretty bad, but if that’s what you’re into...”

“Fuck you,” he says again. “You’re a traitor of the highest degree.”

Jimin shoots you a concerned look. You respond with a roll of your eyes and mime throwing back a drink. Jimin responds with an eye-roll of his own, jerking his head in Namjoon’s direction, then he nods. Him, too, he mouths, then promptly turns his attention back to the older woman beside him whose husband is the head of some important committee. Thank god Jimin’s here to do all your schmoozing for you (and that he can hold his liquor).

“You’re the worst.”

“Okay, Seokjin.”

“I’m getting another drink. Do you want anything?” You stare at him in disbelief, blinking slowly. “I don’t know if that’s a yes.”

“It definitely isn’t. Haven’t you drank enough?”

“No,” comes his immediate response. “My current level of inebriation is disproportionate to the amount of suffering you have bestowed upon me this evening.”

“I don’t know if that’s true. Your eyes are all glassy and your face is really red. I’ve certainly retaken the lead in the best-looking contest—”

“You are insufferable.” Then, because the alcohol has loosened his lips and he can’t seem to help himself, he says, “You are always the best-looking person in any room. Fuck, I need another drink. Namjoonie, get me another drink, please. I regret to inform you I am, in fact, too drunk to leave this table.”

Inexplicably, Namjoon looks at you. Looks like a deer in headlights, but turns to you nonetheless, and you feel your jaw drop. “No,” you tell him, “I’m not dealing with him. He’s your chief.”

“But it’s your fault he’s this drunk,” Namjoon argues, because he’s a shithead who majored in pre-law in undergrad. “He won’t make it to the big speech, at this rate.”

“What are you, five? Then take him home,” you hiss. This is rapidly spiraling out of control. Seokjin, at Level Zero Inebriation, would never compliment you, so he must be very far gone to concede the best-looking title to you.

It makes your stomach hurt.

Jimin’s still busy charming the pants off the committee wife. Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are deep in conversation and only loyal to one another, so they’ll be no help. You could probably wrestle Seokjin’s phone out of his hands to call one of his lesser staff members, perhaps his driver, but he’d almost certainly cause a scene. Start squawking at you in that tone of his that’s liable to break sound barriers, and that’s the last thing you need.

So, with all the decorum you can muster, you shove the last forkful of risotto in your mouth and fire off a text to your own driver.

Ten minutes, comes the response.

You show the text to Jimin, who merely nods and tells you good luck. You hate that you’re going to need it.

You don’t know how much Seokjin weighs, but you’re certain eighty-percent of it is in his shoulders.

Thankfully Jungkook, your driver, is much more buff and far less considerate than you are, because he’d just thrown Seokjin over his shoulder and deposited him on your couch, uncaring of his protests and warnings of impending vomit.

“Not my house, not my problem,” was his response.

“Wow, rude,” was yours.

Before anything else, you fetch a bucket and a sleeve of crackers. “Eat up,” you tell Seokjin, who unsurprisingly gives you the finger in turn. “Very mature. Don’t forget you’re only here as the result of your own actions.”

Seokjin mimics you under his breath, and you have half a mind to dump a glass of water on him. But he looks so… helpless. Simultaneously green in the face and pale, looking far from the man with the million-dollar skincare routine; suit rumpled, jacket thrown carelessly over the arm of the couch, shoes untied but still on his feet. You don’t have any pets because you’re never home and are woefully inept of taking care of anything, but something about Seokjin in this moment kicks some long-forgotten nurturing gene into high gear.

So you fetch some water and a blanket. Busy yourself making coffee, because it’s not even nine p.m. and you’re usually never home before midnight, let alone tucked into bed. And those stupid gala entrees are small, so you rummage through your kitchen for something to snack on.

“Did you make enough coffee for two?” you hear from the living room.

“Yeah,” you call back. “How do you take it?”

“Preferably not from my sworn enemy’s kitchen, but I suppose I’ll have to make an exception.”

“I’m gonna spit in it,” you tell him. An overexaggerated gag comes from his direction.

“Never mind. Can I take a shower?”

If you thought getting him out of the car and in the front door had been difficult, it’s nothing compared to helping him into the shower.

Which you shouldn’t even be doing, considering he’s insistent on not showering in his briefs but also isn’t capable of undressing himself, so it all feels clandestine. Now the two of you are crammed in the bathroom attached to the guest room—the one with the bog standard shampoo and conditioner and body wash, because you don’t trust Seokjin not to pour all your expensive stuff down the drain out of spite.

“Help me help you,” you beg, righting him for the nth time. It’s those goddamn shoulders of his. He’s too top-heavy; makes him susceptible to tipping over sideways into the wall.

“Can’t,” he responds. Barely manages to pop the button on his suit pants before he tips into the wall again.

A frustrated groan escapes you. You’ll never get him into the shower at this rate, and you really want to eat that snack. Not to mention the coffee’s going to get all bitter and gross if you leave it in the carafe too long. “You’re really inconveniencing me, you know that?”

“Sorry.”

You huff, turn him forcefully so he’s facing you. Start working at the buttons of his dress shirt. Tom Ford. Black silk. Probably cost a fortune, because it’s also been perfectly tailored to accentuate his waist, which is… not great for your mental well-being. Doesn’t help that his heady cologne is still stubbornly clinging onto the fabric.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” he answers. “I say a lot of things. Don’t usually mean most of them, no.”

“Definitely a politician, then.”

He sighs. Tips his head back, puts that horrible neck on full display. You cover your whimper with a cough. “I thought it best not to fight the inevitable,” he says. “I’m charming. People want to give me things. Might as well use my powers for good.”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply distractedly. Only three buttons left. Thank god he’s wearing an undershirt. “Makes sense.”

“Well, I try to. Hard to do that when someone votes against the proposals I’ve spent months drafting.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, turn around, I think your shirt’s caught on something in the back.”

Seokjin obliges. Blocks your view of your bathroom with his giant shoulders. You’re so glad he can’t see the look on your face, because it’s already pretty pathetic, but then he says, “I did mean what I said, though. About you.” He clears his throat, the flush creeping up his neck again. “Being pretty.”

Your hands tremble as you get his shirt unstuck. As you untuck it from his pants and push it off his shoulders. As you fold it carefully and place it on the counter. As you see a scar on his shoulder and trace your fingers over it. “What’s this from?”

“Assassination attempt,” Seokjin deadpans.

“Can’t imagine why anyone would want to murder you.”

“Me neither.” Then, quieter: “Got it when I fell out of a tree.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

You snort your laughter, feeling a little brave with Seokjin’s back to you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, and when he nods again, you throw caution to the wind entirely.

Press onto the tips of your toes. Press a soft kiss to the scar on Seokjin’s shoulder. Smile again at the soft gasp that escapes him, the way he tips over again and expects to bang into the wall, except you’ve turned him all around so there’s nothing to catch him. He tries grabbing onto the shower curtain but it’s hopeless, so he goes toppling into the tub.

“You’re really falling for me, huh?” you ask, extending your hand to help him up. He’s groaning in pain, but he takes it anyway, pulling you in with him. Can’t say you didn’t expect it. Seokjin’s a shithead before he’s anything else.

His arms snake around your waist immediately. “If I say yes, will you change your vote on my proposal?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

[fluffalpenguin]

IT'S HERE AT LAST @arcvmonth AU DAY YEAHHHH never mind that this post is late

I managed to stuff 10 AUs into this bad boy, so this is a image AND text heavy post, be warned! (I genuinely hope you enjoy the ride)

Not arranged in any particular order, and hyperlinks lead to doodles I've posted on Twitter unless stated otherwise!

(CW: imagery of drug use in the first one and mentions of violence in another)

1. Triad AU

It's the 1800s and everybody* does crimes! (*Not everyone)

Raised in the Fusion Society from an early age, Serena has always had mixed feelings about the child trafficking that her foster father's involved in. One day, she comes across a red-haired street performer that brings dazzling smiles of unbridled joy to children and decides to cut ties with her current life. As she eludes the men sent to retrieve her, she runs into who but the leader of a rival organisation, the Lancers!

This holds the distinction of being the only au that I didn't include pawn in some way or another because I can't figure out where to fit Yugo in (probably why my interest in it has somewhat fizzled out already lmao)

I wrote a short ~500 words fic of Serena announcing her departure to Dennis, Sora, and Yuri (conceptually the latter perpetually seethes about her audacity throughout the length of this au because that's funny)

2. Vampire Knight AU

Vampires and humans learning to co-exist in a boarding school is a genius set-up, thank you Hino Matsuri for giving me undying brainrot (pun intended) through creating this (albeit cursed) manga

Turned into a vampire against his will during a brutal massacre, Yugo curses his fate to be a blood-sucking monster every waking hour. And if his life didn't suck hard enough already, he's also forced to partner with (be the research subject of) a human with a set of morals worse than the most depraved vampire he's ever met. At least that lessens his guilt about drinking blood, because if anyone deserves to be a juice box, it's that smug purple-headed bastard! Life at the academy revolves around humans attending Day classes and vampires attending Night classes, but Yugo begs the headmaster to allow him some semblance of normalcy (denial) by letting him attend the Day Class, in which he dozes off often. Luckily, his roommate, Yuto, is there to poke him awake just enough times for him to pass his classes. Like his cousin Yuri, Yuto is also paired with a vampire through the latter's term in the academy. As one of the last surviving pure-bloods in the world, Yuya is uncomfortably used to his fellow vampires looking at him with undiluted reverence while fending off dubious intentions. The two quickly form a close relationship, a stark contrast to the other two boys that they share a house with.

I'm still deciding between having Yuri and Yuya being seatmates or not because both have their pros and cons (Also Yoko is a human, but is also the Night Class teacher; Yuya takes a liking to her pretty quickly)

Yuto, Shun, and Kaito are part of the school's Disciplinary Squad made out of vampire hunters-in training that patrol the grounds after dusk (to make sure their vampiric classmates aren't running around charming guileless humans into being supper) and Yuri, of course, despite being human has asked his beloved Papa for permission to attend Night Class in order to observe his research subjects in their natural habitat! (He unnerves everyone, but they don't disturb him because the last time someone tried they learnt first-hand that he has an taser whip to protect himself)

3. OCG AU

I've recently posted (how recent is recent?) a compilation post of doodles for this AU then I realised I never talked about the plot so

Childhood friends Yuto, Shun, and Ruri are training hard to join the elite ranks of the Dogmatikan Order. When Ruri doesn't return from her Ascension ceremony, the two defy sect rules to search for her. Yuto comes across a mysterious red-headed boy incarcerated within the inner confines of the Order's keep and...

I know it doesn't look like it but pawn is more of a background ship in this story, counterpart and swift take center stage (because Yuto and Rin are the main characters to me)

When I cooked this up in 2021, I was so desperate to escape from my schoolwork that I ended up making an 15+ chapter outline, here's an excerpt

(Just kidding I do have half a prologue and one chapter written out, one day I'll revisit this for sure)

Oh also, Yuri and Yuya are twins separated at birth

4. Exorcist AU

This one is the multi-series AU, because everyone has one, right!

This started as my 2022 Halloween pawn piece and then over a five-hour midnight bus ride at midnight two months later I decided to make a bad decision that led me to dozing off while queuing up in a theme park in the middle of the afternoon

(Yuto's design is so horribly outdated but I haven't digitalised his new one yet sorry, also shark and kaito heads are by @2-ennn)

In a world ravaged by demons, Yugo has spent his entire life on the tiny island he's called home learning the ropes of exorcism. His life is shaken up when he's assigned to show a visitor around, an exorcist from the mainland with a devilish smile that raises his hackles. He finally drops his suspicions and guard when Joeri sustains injuries protecting him from a demonic attack, and the two become closer... (They even have cute fluffy dates) Well, only until Joeri reveals that it was all staged and that he's a demon (and that his name is actually Yuri) before making off with the church's most prized weapon/artifact/thing/sorry I haven't really decided yet

If you saw my tweet from last year complaining about how I have to write 7 chapters first before I can write about my otp kissing I was referring to this au (joke's on my past self because I skipped ahead to write it anyway)

Yubel, Placido, and IV are the respective leaders of the three factions, but the island that Yugo (and Rin) grew up on is managed by Sherry because man am I hungry for Sherry Yugo sibling-like interactions

I love this AU, but writer's block crashes down like a brick (I've attempted to rewrite Chapter 1 more than two times and I'm still pulling my hair out because I need it to be Perfect)

5. DGS AU

What's up Ace Attorney fans, do I have a fangame in the works for you! It's based on The Great Ace Attorney/Daigyakuten Saiban, but there's no spoilers for it if you haven't played it

I can't talk too much about the plot since I do want to make a playable version one day but I will say that the first trial is defending Yugo from a murder charge (lol)

It's also one of the rare AUs where there's barely any explicit romance(?), only murder and mystery here! (you bet I'm going to write so many allusions for my favourite ships though winky face)

I started writing trial scripts for this but then I got really overwhelmed when looking for a good AA game maker so if anyone has recommendations please send them my way (Ideally they'd have the DGS UI...)

6. Casino AU

The Yuboys are dealers in a casino, and maybe it's a fun goofy little vn (it's a vn)

I have a whole thread on twitter for this one for the drawings i've made, but I'll post some on here so I can ramble a little

It started out as a concept for gacha cards, but then became its own monster (that's currently slumbering)

Originally Reiji was the owner of the casino, but I'm trying my best to include Ray and Zarc more into my aus when I can because I just want more excuses to write/draw my trophy wife (zarc)

this drawing is so old but clutches head i love u4 so much rrrrrrr

I wanted to make little acrylic standees back then (honestly still do a little)

Speaking of little acrylic standees...

7. Rune Factory AU

This one is roughly based on Rune Factory 5, but all you need to know is... nothing, actually; I can't even reference the plot because I've barely played the game myself lol but i just really wanted fantasy farming yuboys

(and then none of the characters ended up being vegetable farmers, even outside of the yuboys)

Harvest Moon/Rune Factory is a game where you live on a farm and eventually maybe marry someone, so one day when I've done all of the full body sprites (pauses and looks to the horizon) I want to make a uquiz that tells you who your destined Bachelor/ette is

It'd be one of the AUs without any 'canon' ships but Ray and Zarc's backstories are kinda tied together so... yup anyway here's a list of things that are true in this AU:

yuya zarc siblings and zarc is a mean older brother

i was going to make zarc the cool mysterious guy that you rarely see but gap moe is one hell of a drug

yuzu and her dad own the grocery store, yuya helms the local inn with yoko, who manages the baths within, zarc opens his diner for business when he feels like it (he's actually so good at cooking), yugo and rin are a blacksmith/carpenter duo, kurosakis have a bakery, though ruri spends her time playing detective, yuto runs the local clinic and sawatari is the town mascot

every monday night, a mysterious phantom thief with orange hair stalks the streets!

the squad that reiji captains serves to fix problems like monster infestations, but they usually have a lot of free time on their hands (well, not reiji) so yuri is constantly annoying yugo and yuto for fun and serena spends her time befriending the girls

ray only returns to town and opens up her flower shop when you defeat the 2nd boss and yuri can be found loitering there often, ray is the only person that makes him remotely uncomfortable

i was going to make yuto the 'protagonist' with amnesia (it's a RF thing) but then i was told he'd be funnier as a doctor (and now I can also give him glasses)

8. Gunvolt AU

Azure Striker Gunvolt is a fast-paced 2D action sidescr-- okay you know what, all you have to know is that the yuboys are villains belonging to a mega corporation that aims to control society through the power of virtual idols and music (yes, this is a real plot point from the original work) and Serena storms their hideout to kick their asses in order to truly free Yuzu (who escaped and was found unconscious in an alley by her now gf) from their clutches

Yuuri: Well, well. Maybe today won't be boring, after all. Serena: Is… Is he in a straitjacket?  Yuuri: I'd really appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me like that to my face, thank you. Serena: If I did, would you move out of the way? Yuuri: If I did, would you free me of these restraints? Rin: That doesn’t seem to be the wisest thing to do. Serena: Yeah. Dream on. Yuuri: Then we only have one choice left, don’t we?

(Yeah I put him in a straitjacket)

The grey numbers are for the design notes I wrote alongside when drawing this, here's a pastebin! (It's not required reading, but I would deeply appreciate it if you checked my rambling out)

Reiji is the final boss for some light AkaSere, but I'm still figuring out his character (and everyone elses', tbh)

The main fun of this AU for me was definitely making parodies of the skill cut-ins! (Yuri's one is due for a remake... I also really need to get around to finishing Yuto and start on Yugo's to complete the set)

Yuya's second one is for when you beat his first form and he uses his last resort to merge with the other three or something (His pose and cape is a nod to Astrograph!)

9. Obelisk Force AU

Okay, before you continue, go and get this song playing in the background first (I will give you a cookie if you read the lyrics too)

Okay, let's go! (with the energy of an excited tour guide)

It'd be an absolute understatement to say I love the concept of Obelisk Force Yugo; one time I made a 10-minute TED talk trying to pick apart why I liked it so much, but back then I still didn't have a good grasp of what my ideal ObeFo Yugo/Pawn was... Until I came across that song on Spotify and asked a friend for help on brainstorming (lost if u see this HI) and the rest, as they say, was history

Yugo is picked up (kidnapped) by Academia at an early age (think like, 5-6) after they witness his duelling skills (Leo really needs LOTS of child soldiers)

they erase his memories then for better assimilation into the academy, though he still retains a sense of stubborn individuality

he's constantly bullied by the other students for being an orphan from the Synchro Dimension, and he gets into fights often

eventually, Leo orders Yuri to take care of the matter (children will be children, but Academia MUST have order)

when Yuri approaches Yugo, he's just finished throwing hands against yet another crowd of students

Yuri attempts diplomacy, even challenging him to a duel, but Yugo is exhausted from his earlier fight and turns him down brusquely, stalking back to his room

Yuri attempts to block his way and gets shoved aside, falling to the ground and cracking his duel disk

he snaps, as the duel disk had been a gift from the professor, and how dare you?

he's beating Yugo half to death when a lightbulb goes off in his head

he proposes to Yugo to personally take charge of his education because he is so gracious and charitable and it's the least he could do for someone who shares his face

Yugo, of course, is completely dumbfounded but faints from a combination of blood loss and fatigue before he can reply no

when Yugo has recovered, Yuri pops the question again, and the two decide to settle the matter through a duel

Yugo loses (duh)

time flies as Yuri teaches Yugo how to stop students from coming back for revenge, among other things (it also helps that the other students are already creeped out by him) and significantly raises his quality of life at Academia which Yugo is thankful for

time skip! Yugo successfully joins the Obelisk Force and promptly unbuttons the jacket instantly (it's a tight fit, okay)

Yugo can feel his serpentine gaze drill into him from where Yuri sits cross-legged on a chair a distance away, his chin cradled thoughtfully in one hand. He waits for a comment, but nothing but silence comes. Finally, he mutters, "What, you're not going to scold me for desecrating the uniform?" A wide smile crinkles Yuri's face. "Not just your wardrobe, but even your vocabulary's upgraded, hm?" Before Yugo can form a retort, he goes on, "Actually, I think I like it." His chair barely makes a sound, muffled by the carpet as he stands up and makes his way across the room. The footsteps stop when teal and magenta are inches away. Lightly, he fingers the lapel of Yugo's new jacket as he rakes a half-lidded gaze from head-to-toe. "It makes you stand out from the others in the Force. And that's fitting. After all..." "You're not the Professor's. You're mine."

One day, Yuri and/or Yugo are sent to capture... Rin! Her picture gives Yugo a sense of deja vu, but he doesn't understand why...

Yugo's memories come back in a flood when he makes eye contact with his old childhood friend that he hasn't seen in almost a decade

The capture is successful, and back at Academia Yugo begs the Professor for the authority to be in charge of her incarceration (In trying to mold Yugo into his shadow, Yuri has unknowingly created a competitor for the Professor's acknowledgement)

Before the Professor can respond, a girl of Yugo's age steps into the room to report to the Professor as a fresh recruit

Leo introduces a brainwashed yandere Ruri as Rin's appointed jailer

Yeah that's right I managed to fit apple and swift in here thumbs up emoji

Anyway it's now a romantic comedy with a love triangle (it's not)

10. Hades AU

No deep thoughts nor any plans for this one it was more of a costume design exercise but I'm including it here because I still like them quite a bit

***

If you've actually made it this far, I don't know what to say... thank you!

If you'd like to see more of any of these (including some of the ones that I didn't manage to include but might have posted before like the Alice in Wonderland one, or the Dark Signer one, or the university one, or the Yuri half-turns into a Starve Venom dragon boy one, or the the Monster Hunter one (less of an AU and just a hey they are gaming), or the Z-arc suddenly has four toddlers and they are the yus and he has to juggle parenting and pro-duelling one, and whichever ones I might have forgotten, my ask box is open!! Again, thanks for reading!

[sweet-s0rr0w]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much to @citrusses, @danpuff-ao3, @tackytigerfic, @maesterchill and @squintclover for tagging me in this! I loved reading your answers, which is what made me finally decide to do this one. I'm really awful at these, and I'm stuck in that endless blank early period of motherhood where my focus is so inwards, so survivalist, that I've lost all sense of popular songs/films/sport, which is a big part of why I don't generally do other 'about you' type posts. So I'm also tagging @elskanellis, @epitomereally, @mallstars, @oknowkiss and @thecouchsofa who recently tagged me in other posts to say thank you <3 and I appreciate you, and here, do this one if you like <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25, good grief

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

332,461!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Harry Potter. Can’t see that changing any time soon, but never say never. Meanwhile F1 will remain the One That Got Away!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Nor All That Glisters (111k, E, Drarry)

Kept in Cages (77k, E, Drarry)

Dreaming Skies (21k, E, Dron collab with @tackytigerfic)

When The Party's Over (5.4k, E, Drarry)

Among the Elements (8.3k, E, Drarry)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Embarrassingly enough, not usually. Basically, I got very overwhelmed last summer after writing Kept in Cages, because I pushed myself ridiculously hard to get it finished in time for Wireless (last fic in Wireless, but I made it!!) Combined with a lot of stress in my personal life, I then experienced massive burnout and had six months of complete writer’s block. Meanwhile, I got some really wonderful, brilliant, thoughtful comments on that fic, and I felt just awful and like a total fraud who couldn’t put a sentence together, and couldn’t bring myself to even respond. And now I don’t feel like I can reply to anything more recent until I’ve got through the old comments, etc etc. I guess I should just get over myself and crack on though, because I love getting comments and do really truly read and appreciate every single one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I tend to give them at the very least a hopeful ending, so I had to look through my account to work this out, and I think this has to go to my weird tiny little dark fic Not Waving (M, 3k, Drarry).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

As above, I do like a happy ending, but rarely is it unqualified happiness. Kept in Cages, maybe, because I like that they’ve built a life away from everything, and that it’s something that they’ve each freely chosen. Or perhaps Silhouettes (E, 17k, Dronarry), which now I think about it does have a rare conveniently-packaged ending!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet! The odd lightly offensive bookmark rating, but nothing that especially bothers me. I got caught up in the top/bottom trolling early in my time in fandom, but that stuff was so ridiculous I just deleted the lot of it and didn’t think of it again.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I write what I want to read, really, which (naturally) involves smut. I can’t do PWPs though; there’s a Tumblr post that says, like, ‘I’m going to write a quick PWP, the starting premise is that character A has lost their faith in god’, and this is kind of me. Sex in fic for me is a big part of relationship development, and so I usually slot in whatever works best for the characters from that point of view. I’m actually writing something right now that’s fast sexual burn/slow relationship burn, and it’s a very new dynamic for me, to try and take the feelings away (a bit, obviously they’re going to catch them sooner or later).

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t really enjoy reading them, so it doesn’t really enter my mind to try and write one. I suppose sports AUs are the exception to the rule – does that count? I haven’t written one, but I’ve read some I’ve adored (@sleepstxtic, @citrusses) and I could see myself having a go.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A couple, I think. Someone translated NATG to Brazilian Portuguese, all 111k of the thing (although looking now I think it might have been taken down!), and Nice I think got translated to Vietnamese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, Dreaming Skies with @tackytigerfic. Dream come true, etc etc. I have to say, I’d absolutely be up for another collab with someone in the future (time/life/etc allowing, which is a big if for me).

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Drarry. Twenty-one years and counting!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh, I’d never say never! Good to always have something on the backburner, I say.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I think. And I used to think pacing, but currently having a slight crisis about this in my latest fic, so get back to me! But yeah, dialogue; as I was saying to @fluxweeed the other day, sometimes I feel like I write my fics by just filling in the gaps between dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything that’s not dialogue! No, I’d say probably endings. I don’t think I’ve mastered the art of ending strong just yet. I’m too keen to satisfy readers, possibly, or maybe it’s the dialogue thing again, I want to end on a quip or something, and it never sits quite right. I should really start looking at what I think makes a good ending, I guess.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Fine? I mean, I wouldn’t personally do it using google translate or anything, because I’d have horrors that I’d accidentally end up insulting someone, but if I know the language a bit and/or have someone I can trust to help, that’s fine.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First and only, HP. I read HP back in the early 00s – a broad range of stuff, following the well-known authors (Cassie Clare, Maya, Rhysenn, Aja etc), but was always just a lurker, never part of fandom (was too nervous, and too busy with F1, which was a very niche fandom back then, consisting of about 30 of us and an unhealthy number of screenshots of Jarno Trulli’s backside after every race – I ran a fic archive and modded fests etc, but never wrote). Then when I got back into fandom, it was immediately HP, and immediately Drarry <3

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Don’t make me choose between my children!

Tagging: gosh, I think I've tagged enough people just in the course of my ramblings! Oh, maybe also @shealwaysreads, and @skeptiquewrites if you haven't done it, and the Aussie crew @moonflower-rose and @shiftylinguini, I'd love to know your answers if you have the inclination. Anyone who gets a tag for the post please feel free to do it and please do tag me with your responses <3

[nixknacks0-0]

Thank you for writing "Bittersweet Reunion"! I enjoyed it immensely and it has definitely found a place on my list of all-time favorite Roudise stories! And thank you for offering to answer readers' questions about it! Here are a couple (hopefully, not too many) I've been wondering about:

This is really basic, and possibly it was mentioned in an earlier chapter and I just don't remember, but what age are Louise and Rudy supposed to be in the story?

I would love to know where you got the idea for the story from or what inspired you to write it? As I mentioned in my comment on the last chapter, to me Louise and Rudy feel like the least likely of the Belcher kid friendships to fall out of each other's lives, so I'm curious what led you to think of a story starting from the premise.

In the second to last chapter, Rudy explains that reason he left town was because he needed to get away from his parents. I know you started the story well before "The Amazing Rudy" aired and I was wondering if that episode- where we see Rudy's mom for the first time and see more of his relationship with his dad- changed your view of his relationship with his parents or led you to change anything about how that part of Chapter 11 was written? (Of course, there's all sorts of things that can happen in parent-child relationships between the ages of 9 and 18 that could explain why older teen Rudy would feel the need to get away from them.)

I loved the way you wrote the older Pesto twins in Chapter 3! I find the Pesto twins to be the hardest characters to imagine aged up versions of (I actually decided not to write a scene with them in it for my Roudise wedding fic when I realized I was still writing them like they were 9). I was wondering how you came up with the ideas you did for them and if you had any additional ideas for them that didn't make it into the story?

Similarly, where are there any ideas for any of the other background characters that you weren't able to work into the story but would like to share? (Feel free to ignore if this will spoil other stories you are working on.)

Thank you for reading it, and I'm so glad you enjoyed it! And don't worry, I'm happy to answer all the questions (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

1. Louise and Rudy are in their early to mid 30s in this. I really wanted to capture the vibes of people can find love at any age (vs Gene and Tina who in this au find love in college and right after).

I also wanted to emphasize that Louise has a very established life at this point, she's taken over the restaurant, she has friends and weekly hang outs, she isn't necessarily looking for anything romantic to happen, but sometimes it happens anyways.

I just think it was interesting to explore a budding relationship between two people who very much know who they are, as opposed to younger people just figuring out who they are in life.

2. This story actually started with me thinking about how I really wanted Louise to take over the restaurant when she's older, and things kind of grew from there.

Another thing I really wanted to explore is this sort of abandonment issue Louise has. That's not quite the words for it, but I always got the vibe that she cares so strongly for the people in her life and hates when they have to/choose to leave, which ended up being a really interesting dynamic to explore when coupled with her figuring out she's in love.

3. Rudy's parents seemed to me the easiest vehicle for his moving away. We've seen how Sylvester acts (even though he cares, he obviously has his own problems, as illustrated in the House of 1000 Bounces and The Kids Rob a Train), and in earlier episodes Rudy talked about his mother caring very strongly about his safety and "hating fun".

Obviously that seems to change as the seasons go on, and especially with The Amazing Rudy. I did consider changing the story at that point, but why Rudy left was kind of woven throughout the story, and I realized that it's fanfiction. It doesn't have to be 100% accurate to canon, and the story probably wouldn't be 100% accurate even if I did change it.

I did love seeing how much his parents actually care in The Amazing Rudy, and I think it was a really great episode to analyze the inner workings of our favorite asthmatic boy.

4. My portrayal of the Pesto twins is 100% inspired by @tallgirl14, whose work I saw on TikTok. She's got some really great comics of the kids in high school, and she illustrates the twins as these sort of trouble makers because anyone who is friends with Louise for so long has to be a little crafty.

I sincerely recommend you check out her work, her art is so cute and makes me squeel every time.

Once I had the personality, it did take a little work to figure out where they would be and what they'd be up to, but I really liked the idea of them being restaurateurs with Louise, and even having a fake rivalry to draw business. Of course, leaning more into real Italian food than their father, even taking a trip to Italy to reconnect to their mother's heritage. Don't remember if I did write that into chapter two or three, but that's my favorite detail about them for sure (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

5. I did actually do a lot of thinking about Millie's character, even though she is barely in the story. She's definitely a regular at the restaurant, coming in for coffee every morning and afternoon, and she works as a detective for the police.

I'm still a very acab person, but being a detective just fits Millie's personality, and honestly the way she can be a bit obsessive and a little less than moral fits the cop vibe to me. She's also backed off of Louise a little, and the two have managed to foster a reasonable level of friendship, though Louise is still wary to invite her to things because she flat out doesn't trust her.

The other background characters I absolutely adore are Tammy and Jocelyn. I always ship them, and I thought it would be a cute cameo that they show up to trivia night and just have fun drinking and giggling with each other rather than taking the game seriously.

Thank you so much for asking, and I hope this answered all of your questions (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) I don't think I have any other Roudise on the backburner (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠) but if you choose to reas any of my other upcoming stories I hope you enjoy just as much as you did Bittersweet Reunion!

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

"File" Names

Steve is in a Metal Band

Werewolf Steve

Boy w/a Bat Book 2

Soulmate AU

Snippet

“I’ve also got someone coming in and deprogramming our personas,” Robin said, “so we don’t look like weirdos with no spacial awareness.”

Simon giggled. “Just how many of your friends thought you were cursed, Steve?” he teased their frontman.

“Oh hardy ha,” Steve grumbled.

“Most of them them,” was Robin’s cheerful reply.

Steve stuck his tongue out at her. “So just to reiterate, Eddie knows about me and Robin and will probably guess about you three, but it is up to you if want to tell him. We’re going back into the studio for our third album and Corroded Coffin is currently recording their ninth. And while we’re there, we’re going to learn how to be regular humans again. Then after they’re done and hopefully us, too,” he added as an aside, “and they set the dates, we will open for them for just their US portion of their tour.”

****

Sorry, I forgot to set this to schedule, but my husband decided to go to bed early and it threw off my groove.

Same as always my loves. It runs until 11pm EST.

Send as many asks as you want as often as you want.

Have fun go nuts!

Just tagging my regulars because I think a couple of them missed the post (except that lovely anon who I would love to tag)

@mira-jadeamethyst @zerokrox-blog @just-a-tiny-void @w11l0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[lemonluvgirl]

Make Me has been Updated

So recently I had a very nice reader point out in the comment section that in my Modern AU fic Make Me, Peeta seemed to get overpowered by Gale too quickly in their fight considering I wrote Peeta as a college wrestler who had won a wrestling scholarship. I actually thought that was a very good point and with the help of that kind reader, I did some research and added some more plot to the fight scene in chapter 1. Then writing for this universe got me inspired again and today I decided to write a continuation of Katniss and Peeta's romantic night at Peeta's apartment. So, more Gale getting his ass kicked has been added as well as more Everlark smut. I am feeling pretty happy with the way the revisions and added content turned out! So if you haven't read it before, or if you have and want to read more, You can check out the new and improved version of Make Me AO3.

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

It was supposed to be an ordinary Saturday night. The kind where I met my best friend for drinks at the local hole in the wall, and hustled some miners out of their pocket change. They were usually easy marks who paid more attention to the way my ass looked in my short denim shorts while I lined up a shot, than the actual game.

But a little into the first half hour, while patrons were still trickling in slowly, the mood in the bar changed from relaxed to filled with some kind of unnamable tension. It was still early, too early for any drunken disagreements to break out, but the tense mood lingered. I shrugged it off as Gale and I started to prepare for our first game.

The first time I noticed him was when he stood in front of the bar but didn’t sit down. He just held up a finger as he gave the bartender his order. His hair was pale blond, and he had a thicker build than most of the olive-skinned men from the Seam. I only caught a side glimpse of his face, and then the crowd flowed around him, obscuring him from view.

Well, an outsider coming into our bar certainly explained the weird feeling I’d gotten earlier. I chalked it up to obliviousness, maybe a traveler passing through who didn’t know the customs of the locals.

The second time I noticed him was when he slowly sauntered over to the pool table that all of the regulars at the bar knew as my and Gale’s spot. At first, he just seemed familiar, but the closer he got the more familiar he appeared. He walked up to us and placed a quarter on the rail, at the same time I placed him, and where I knew him from.

“I call next,” the blond guy said in a voice too cheery for the dreary establishment we all called The Hob. He was taller than I remembered but still stocky, and broad-shouldered. I wondered what he was doing here on a Saturday night.

The only identifying mark outside this place was a busted neon sign labeling it ‘Bar’. He couldn’t have chosen to come in here based on the aesthetics, or the welcoming atmosphere. This place was usually only frequented by exhausted miners and out-of-work Seam residents, and he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was wearing a plain dark blue button-up, some faded dark wash jeans that still looked serviceable and his brightly colored sneakers had seen better days but she was sure at one time they had been expensive, like the rest of his slightly out-of-date outfit.

Beside me, Gale laughed.

“I think you missed your exit Merchie. The townie bar is 4 streets over,” Gale told the guy, who I went to school with from elementary to high school. He had been the youngest son of the baker, valedictorian in my class, and captain of the wrestling team. I vaguely remembered the circumstances surrounding his reappearance in our podunk town.

His father passed away last year. People said their family bakery was in trouble, and the former golden boy had to move back home because his university scholarship had been cut when he blew out his knee. A string of unfortunate events seemed to plague the kind boy I once knew.

All that and his pale merchant good looks weren’t winning him any popularity contests tonight. At least not in this place.

“It's a free country,” Peeta Mellark said, voice firm instead of placating like I assumed he would be. He had a reputation for being a nice guy back in school, not a push over since he was strong and athletic, but more….gentle than anything.

But right now Peeta’s blue eyes didn’t look gentle. They looked immovable and hard as he met Gale’s gray gaze, stare for stare. It was a little shocking to see him so…unintimidated by my 6’3” best friend who could scare off guys who sniffed too closely around our pool table in a heartbeat.

I elbowed Gale in the ribs to cut the tension and the macho male bullshit going on. He turned to me with a scowl.

“Your turn to break,” was all I said.

Gale grunted and took up his pool stick, as Peeta leaned against the side wall watching.

I turned my back to him, hoping he’d get bored and leave eventually.

But he didn’t.

He stayed through the entire game, and I could feel his eyes on my back. Although he didn’t outright leer when I leaned forward to take my shots like some of the other guys were known to. Several times I caught his eye, but he always looked away or covered it by lifting the mug of beer to his lips, his stare getting lost in the dissipating foam.

Eventually, I kicked Gale’s ass, like I usually did on a Saturday night. When the last ball sunk into the pocket, my best friend handed over five bucks with a scowl but didn’t leave to go get us some drinks like he normally would. Instead, Gale stuck around and eyed Peeta watchfully like he was a wild animal lurking around one of his game trails, waiting for Gale’s back to turn so it could swoop in and steal a catch from one of his snares.

Peeta, seemingly unbothered by Gale’s lingering presence, took up a pool stick and a cue and ignored Gale’s glare. He instead looked over at me expectantly.

I looked back at him with a neutral expression. If he wanted to spend his Saturday night in a shitty bar, losing his money to a known pool shark like me, who was I to argue?

“It's your turn to break right?” Peeta asked me in a voice I almost mistook as shy. And when I looked closer at him, he smiled a little at me. It was…sort of adorable? I wasn’t used to guys giving me such blatant puppy dog eyes and sunny smiles with just the right hint of self-consciousness.

I nodded, fighting off a blush, and was about to ask him whether he wanted to be solids or stripes, but before I could, Gale cut in.

“She’s not gonna play with you,” he said in a menacing voice.

My head snapped quickly in Gale’s direction, and now I could see there wasn’t just dislike in his eyes, but something akin to fury.

“I didn’t know you were her keeper,” Peeta replied, as he shifted his gaze to Gale who crossed his arms over his chest. There was something icy in his tone that I had not ever heard before.

I was taken aback for a second by the bizarre turn of events. Sure, my long-time best friend had always been protective of me, but this was downright ridiculous. What did he think Peeta Mellark was gonna do? Shank me with a pool stick in the middle of the bar in front of a crowd of witnesses?

“He’s not,” I bit out the words to cut off Gale’s answer before he spoke. “Grab a drink, Gale. Or take a walk. I’ll be done here in a bit,” I ordered, fed up with his posturing and bad attitude.

“I’ll do that once this merchant asswipe gets the hell outta our bar,” Gale said, undeterred.

Before I could tell Gale what an absolute idiot he was making of himself, Peeta answered.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me?” in a challenging voice.

“Crap,” I muttered right before Gale took a step forward. The night was turning out decidedly differently from how I had envisioned my weekend going.

My heartbeat kicked into overdrive as I watched Gale square up against Peeta, but for his part, Peeta didn’t look even the least bit worried. He eyed Gale’s advance calmly, with almost lazy curiosity. He slowly set his empty beer glass down on the built-in shelf by the pool table and rolled his shoulders back with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, pissant,” Gale said in a low, threatening tone, as he stepped into Peeta’s space, rearing up to his full height which was an intimidating 6’3. Gale probably had a good 4 or 5 inches on Peeta, (even though Peeta was broader and way more muscular) but Peeta didn’t look intimidated at all. It looked like he was welcoming this confrontation. 

Which was crazy. Just batshit insane. 

“Whatever you say, big guy.” Peeta mocked, in a cheery sarcastic tone. 

“Knock it off, you guys. Stop causing trouble.” I said, hoping to diffuse the situation, even though I knew it was a long shot. Gale was like a bull when he got mad. It took very little to wind him up and make him see red. Which was one of the main reasons we broke up. He had such a damn temper. 

Gale ignored me, which was no big surprise. But Peeta’s eyes flicked over to me and I saw indecision flicker in them for a brief second. I knew it couldn’t be because of fear, he wasn’t scared of Gale, I somehow knew that, but when he saw my disapproval he seemed reluctant for a second. 

Unfortunately, Gale used that momentary distraction to his advantage and he sent a punch flying directly for Peeta’s stomach. 

I cried out in dismay at Peeta’s impending pain, but before Gale’s punch could connect, Peeta dropped low and twisted away smoothly. 

He slipped out of Gale’s reach and Gale stumbled, losing his footing when his momentum kept going instead of being halted by Peeta’s body. 

Quick as a flash, Peeta turned Gale’s momentary coordination against him and through some kind of wrestling wizardry got his arm around one of Gale’s tree trunk legs and just-flipped him. Freaking, honest to God, just flipped my giant-ass best friend over like a sack of potatoes.

I hadn’t even gotten over my shock before Peeta was on Gale’s back, twisting his arm up and Gale was planted face-first into the floor, howling and cussin’ up a storm. 

“Give it up, buddy.” I heard Peeta saying, as if from far away, yet he was only a few feet in front of me. But my mind was still spinning. “You’re not getting out of this until you say the word,” Peeta said in a patient voice, talking to Gale like he was a small, misbehaving child. 

The entire bar was standing up, watching by now. When my eyes flicked up to the crowd that had gathered around, I was relieved to see as many astounded expressions on a good number of faces, glad I wasn’t the only one surprised by the turn of events. 

A few on-lookers dared to call out questions about who started the fight, and whatnot. Which I quickly answered in truth, pinning the blame rightly where it belonged on Gale. 

But as I looked back at Peeta, his strong arms flexing casually as Gale bucked and kicked out beneath him, his broad shoulders straining the fabric of his shirt, still wearing that same calm, slightly amused expression, I realized just what a smooth operator Peeta Mellark was. 

He looked up at the crowd who were speculating about how he’d subdued a bigger opponent so quickly, and someone volunteered the information that Peeta was a college wrestler. This caused a fresh wave of fresh chatter and more interest in Peeta. Some of the older guys, who followed town sports religiously, threw in little anecdotes about how the wrestling team had gone to State the year Peeta was captain. 

Peeta took it all in stride, keeping a good grip on Gale, waiting for him to tire out. When he was asked questions about the accident with his knee, he shrugged his shoulder’s in a kind of ‘what can you do?’ way, and said that he was lucky that he still had another one. That charmed onlookers in chuckling. 

This set off another round of expletives from Gale, who thought he was being laughed at. But I did not feel one bit sorry for him. As far as I was concerned, he had earned this humiliation fair and square. 

Peeta told him that he would not release him until he said he was sorry. 

Which Gale eventually did, through gritted teeth. 

Peeta got off him and moved to walk away, but Gale, sore-loser that he was, couldn’t resist kicking out at Peeta’s left leg. The one with the knee injury. 

This time Peeta did fall, and caught the edge of a chair on his way down. 

Gale moved swiftly to get on top of him, but I was officially done with the whole thing and just as Gale lifted his arm to punch Peeta in the face----

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read the rest on AO3.