#And I wanted to reflect that with this au

[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @jiyascepter

Soothing Your Aches

Jotun!King!Loki x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: Your caring husband is always there to soothe your aches - no matter when or where.

Warnings: protective!Loki, pregnancy stuff, nudity, bit of suggestive smut, fluuuff

Word Count: 1,7k

a/n: This lil' oneshot is based on an idea from @eleniblue ! I just had to write it, because it's so sweet! Also, I'm so sorry it took me sooo long to get this posted... Hope you like it nevertheless. 🥰

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

"Have you seen the queen?" Loki addressed one of your personal guards, Ivan, as he was rushing down the corridor towards the throne room; emerald green cape flying behind him.

Ivan nodded. "Yes, my king. Your wife was searching for you. I told her you were out in the city." The king of Jotunheim nodded. "Where did she go?" "I saw her going into the direction of the royal chambers, your majesty."

Loki snorted, "I just came from there, Ivan. She isn't there." and gritted his teeth; feeling the anger - caused by his worry, rise within his body. The king just couldn't help himself. It was the fault of his instincts to protect what was his - like so often.

Loki took a deep breath; trying to control his temper. "You have one job, Ivan! Keeping an eye on the queen and her safe whenever I'm away is the only task you've been burdened with - and you fail." The king shook his head, while Ivan obediently lowered his head. "I apologise, my king, I-" The young Jotun tried to explain, but got immediately interrupted. "She is pregnant, for the Norns sake! This isn't just about my wife anymore!"

Ivan swallowed visibly; fear reflecting in his ruby eyes. Loki still tried to keep his anger at bay; knowing that this was the first mistake of your guard. He tried to have mercy.

"I-I know, y-your highness, b-but-" Ivan got interrupted once more. "You are dismissed for today. Now get out of my sight, before I change my mind."

The guard knew that this was his king showing forgiveness and mercy, so he bowed, "T-Thank you, m-my king." and quickly left.

Loki took another deep breath, before he decided to ask one of the maids about your whereabout.

"Tola," his deep voice caused the blond haired maid, who was currently cleaning his presence chamber, to jump slightly and shriek up. "King Loki! Apologies!" She curtsied. "You scared me a bit." Loki shook his head. "I should apologise. I didn’t mean to scare you... Do you know where my wife is?" She nodded. "Sure, my king. Queen Y/N told me that she was going to take a bath in the royal bathing chamber. I offered my help, but she wished to be alone."

A relieved breath left the Jotun's lips. "Thank you." Tola curtsied once more. "Of course, your highness." With a curd nod, Loki turned on his heels and left again; his feet leading him straight towards the bathing chamber.

He could already smell the scent of your soaps and rich oils miles away. It caused him to smile.

Once he entered the bathing chamber, warm, wet air and slight steam welcomed him - alongside your beautiful voice humming an old Norse song.

It's been a long day for the king and all he wished now was to spend time with you and especially to take care of you, as well as the growing offspring within your womb.

Loki quickly started to undress, until he wore nothing more than his loin cloth. Sure, he could've joined you completely nude, but the king didn't wish to 'pressure you' into something. He wanted to take care of you - and if it would include making love, he wasn't going to complain. If not, Loki was more than alright with it.

Smiling, he rounded the corner to face the big pool you were in; leaning against the edge with your head tilted back and eyes closed. One hand held onto the edge, while the other was cupping your swollen belly; gently stroking the wet skin.

Loki watched you for a moment; admired the absolute stunning woman he had married.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you, my queen?"

Your eyes immediately flew open at your husband's words and you looked over; meeting his beautiful ruby eyes.

You smiled.

"No, of course not. In fact, it is highly appreciated. Please do join me, my king." Loki ran a hand through his now damp curls and proceeded to step inside the water and swim over to you.

You welcomed your husband with open arms, of course, given the fact that you hadn't seen him almost the whole day.

"Hello," you whispered against his lips; crossing your arms behind his neck. Loki smirked; wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you as close as your almost five-month-bump allowed. "Hello, Flower." The gap between the two of you quickly melted away, as your lips moulded perfectly against Loki's.

After exchanging several much needed kisses, Loki settled behind you against the quite comfortably built pool edge; pulling you back against his bare chest.

"How are you feeling today, love?" He asked in a gentle voice. His hands came to rest underneath your belly; supporting the weight of your bump. "Honestly?" You sighed. "It could be better. The muscles in my back hurt, just like my feet do. I have stomach cramps already the whole day and felt very dizzy this morning. That's why I decided to take a bath; hoping it would relax my muscles and ease the pain at least a bit."

Loki nuzzled the wet skin of your neck and pulled you even closer against him. "Apologies, Flower. I hate to see you in pain and struggling." Your husband's lips trailed a path of soft kisses from your shoulder up to the shell of your ear. You couldn't help but smile; feeling the butterflies within you running wild. Wild for this man.

"Can I do something for you, my queen? I wish to help." Your smile even widened. Loki was the best husband you could've wished for. "Especially since I am the one to blame for this..." You could practically hear the smirk and playfulness in his voice - and giggled. "Don't say this like we both didn't wish for it to happen." "Well... Point taken." A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, before he breathed another kiss on the side of your neck.

"Now, how can I help, Flower?"

"Hmm..." You thought; being already way too lost and addicted to his touch. You barely saw him today, after all... "Perhaps a massage later? But for now, just hold me, please. I enjoy your warmth and touch-" You felt a nudge against your abdominal wall and bladder, causing you to smile. "Just like the twins," you completed your sentence.

Loki hummed behind you; thumbs starting to trace a pattern in the naked skin on the underside of your bump. "As you wish, my darling."

After the bath, Loki wrapped you up in a big, fluffy, warm towel, and even carried you back towards your shared chambers.

"There we are..." He said; gently kicking the door shut with his foot. You just smiled with your head tucked in the crook of his neck; inhaling his scent. Loki set you down on your spacious marital bed and pressed a sweet kiss on your lips, before he quickly crossed the room in order to tend to the fireplace. The fire was still burning. Loki just had to make sure it was enough to keep you warm.

"Are you warm enough, my queen?" You nodded; giving him a loving, but definitely drowsy smile. "Currently, yes. Now come here, please..." Loki smiled, "In a moment, Flower." and winked, before he vanished in the bathroom, in order to fetch the best massage oils in the whole kingdom. You received them from a healer on Asgard.

Your husband took the comfortable chair, which stood a bit offsides and actually served as an extra seating possibility in front of the fireplace and sat down beside your side of the bed. His free hand inched closer to your body, while he threw you a smouldering look.

"May I unwrap you, Flower? I heard you are in need of my hands." Mischievous, naughty scamp, you thought with a giggle. "Please do, dear husband."

Loki helped you to free your upper body of its confines, but made sure that your legs and feet were still covered in furs and keeping you warm.

"Turn on your side for me, my love." You did what he said; presenting him your bare back. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but there was no other way than this for a massage. You couldn't turn on your stomach - for obvious reasons.

"There we go." Loki squeezed some oil on his big palm, made sure to coat his other palm as well and then started to gently massage your uptight muscles. "Mhhh..." You sighed as he worked on a particular tight knot. The king chuckled lowly. "Your reaction tells me that I must be doing something right. Does it feel good?" You giggled; nodding. "It always feels good when you touch me, my king. No matter the situation." "Thank the Norns then that I enjoy touching you very much. No matter the situation." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "Win win situation, sweetheart."

After Loki massaged your sore and aching back, you felt way better and relaxed - but your husband wasn't finished yet.

"Would my lovely wife turn on her back again? I think there are cramps who need to be eased as well..." You smiled; following his instructions once more.

The king's eyes travelled from your face down the length of your upper body; lingering on your bump for a moment longer, before his ruby eyes returned to meet your Y/E/C ones.

"You are stunningly beautiful, my queen. Absolutely radiant. Perfect, for me." You couldn't stop your cheeks from redding at his words. "Thank you." Loki leaned over to kiss you lovingly, then began to gently rub the oil in the skin of your belly as well.

You never thought that it would feel this good, but it did - and the babies seemed to enjoy it as well. You could sense it. "They pretty much enjoy the touch of their father," you giggled; looking at Loki. He smiled; nodding amusingly. "I can positively feel it, yes." You giggled again. "Now shush, my queen. Rest and just enjoy," he teased you a bit. "Yes, my king." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes; trying to be calm. You were kinda surprised that it worked that well.

In fact it probably worked too good...

"I'm relieved to see that this seems to help you." Loki got no response. "Flower? Love?" Frowning, he lifted his head - only to see that you slept in. The king smiled; placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and made sure to tuck you properly in.

Tags: @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @icytrickster17 @chennqingg @glitchquake @princess-ofthe-pages @crimson25 @elegantcheesecakecrown @buttercupcookies-blog @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @herdetectivetheorist @loz-3 @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @salvinaa @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @xxannyxx @kimanne723 @mandywholock1980 @the-holy-trinity-l @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10 @buttercupcookies-blog @comicalivy

[eddwardharrison]

WHAT DO U THINK ABT ECLIPSE BEING A SOFTIE TO JAKE AND ANDREW IN THE NEW EAPS EP??

I’M SCREAMING AND CRYING.

I JUST WATCHED IT / AM LITERALLY WATCHING AS I TYPE THIS. || ALL LOVE / NO HATE

I ALWAYS KNEW ECLIPSE WOULD BE A GOOD DAD. I ALWAYS FUCKING KNEW. MY OWN WRITING AND AU’S FORETOLD THIS. ECLIPSE IS SO FUCKING SWEET OH MY GOD.

I’VE COME TO A REALIZATION. ECLIPSE IS GOING THROUGH A METAPHORICAL SERIES OF TRIALS THAT IMPROVES HIMSELF AND THE LIVES OF OTHERS. AND ALL OF THEM DIRECTLY REFLECT HIMSELF AND HIS TRAUMA.

Level One Exposure Therapy.

He had to get Sun and Moon to stop fighting each other so they’d learn to share the body without having to split or suppress. It was successful, now they can switch in and out at will and are willingly giving each other their turns. They’re even learning more about themselves such as “hibernation”, or more accurately, dormancy.

Sun and Moon was the whole reason any Eclipse’s existed. Their willingness to work with each other and themselves dictate what will happen when an Eclipse is created. Because of the natural hatred and fear between the two, a negative Eclipse is always created. But, it seems, we are creating a Ruin. A Ruin would be FAR, FAR GREATER than an Eclipse. It’d be like…gaining a younger brother. Metaphorically.

Level Two Exposure Therapy

Andrew, the dead ghost child. The haunting one, to be specific. He’s like a little miniature version of Eclipse, being a little selfish prick that demands things while making fun of Eclipse as he does. Creating a body for him will allow him to finally interact with others, to gain real relationships and learn to live as the undead,

Level Three Exposure Therapy

Facing the two Andrew’s is like facing his literal inner child, if he had one. In reality’s case, it’d be called V0/V1 Eclipse. The Andrew stuck with Jake is just suffering as he once did and is developing that same anger and hate that Eclipse once had, and is trying to stop it before Jake becomes a monster as he would in the other universes.

On top of that, Jake didn’t deserve to die. Eclipse understood that far more than he realizes. Now, he’s trying to break the laws of life and death to give Jake AND ANDREW another chance to be happy.

He knows it’s possible to give them both a moderate and healthy control, because he did this once before— with Sun and Moon.

ALSO THE CONVERSATIONS GOING ON BETWEEN ECLIPSE AND MONTY?! CAN WE DISCUSS THIS?!

“The Eclipse I knew never would’ve stepped in, if anything, he probably would’ve probably egged me on to smack his head off. So what’s happening with you, then? Making you change and all this…well, malarky?”

“I just…didn’t want you to hurt ‘em.”

“That’s it?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Gator. With you and Earth…”

(1.) MONTY TAKING NOTICE OF ECLIPSE’S CHANGE, THEN MENTIONING IT BACK TO HIM AS THEY COMPARE EACH OTHER AND THEIR ISSUES.

(2.) MONTY ASKING WHAT’S GOING ON, AND FOR /ONCE/, ECLIPSE /EXPLAINS/ WHATS GOING ON AND /DOESN’T GET SHIT ON/,HE /DOESN’T/ GET YELLED AT, AND HE /DOESN’T/ GET INTERRUPTED?! AND THEN MONTY /BUILDS/ ON HIS ANSWER TO SHOW THAT HE LISTENED?!?!?! One of the biggest issues with Eclipse’s interactions is that everytime someone asks ���why are you doing this” or “what is actually wrong with you, explain it”, Eclipse TRIES to, and then they SHUT HIM DOWN, PUT WORDS IN HIS MOUTH, AND THEN CALL HIM USELESS AND GIVES HIM ANOTHER REASON TO INVEST IN CEMENT BOOTS AT THE LOCAL LAKE. LIKE WHAAAT!!!!!

(3.) ECLIPSE SHOWING EMPATHY, COMPASSION, AND WORRY FOR STITCHWRAITH. TRAITS WE HAVE /NEVER/ SEEN BEFORE IN THIS MAN!

(4.) MONTY KNOWS ECLIPSE IS HIDING MORE. /I/ KNOW HE’S HIDING MORE. HE’S IN FUCKING DENIAL!!!! I’M IN FUCKING DENIAL!! ECLIPSE AND ME HAVE NEVER STOPPED SHARING BRAINCELLS FOR 2 SECONDS OVER THE COURSE OF 2 YEARS OH MY GOD.

(5.) ECLIPSE,POKING AT THEIR RELATIONSHIP. MENTIONING EARTH. OH MY LORD-ECLIPSE. HOLY BALLS. I love it when Eclipse just MENTIONS Earth and my 32 braincells goes wild in the stadiums watching through my eyes that are watching the screen.

I can unpack SO MANY THINGS FROM JUST ONE QUOTE ITS DRIVING ME INSANE!

No, because when I heard this, I sat up. I fixed my posture. I looked ahead. I was at attention. I was READY. I GAINED CONSCIOUSNESS DUDE.

[sherewrytes]

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

REBLOGS HELP ENGAGEMENT

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

character lookbook

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Taglist: (you can comment to be added)

@sparkling-obsidian @queendessi24 @masterofthepp @thedondiva45 @laitifly @burpzz @prettypink-princesss

Chapter: Lost in da sauce

The following week was a blur of deadlines and classes for Y/n, her mind constantly drifting back to Toji and the cryptic words his uncle had said. She hadn’t seen Toji since that night at the shop, though she hadn’t been actively avoiding him either. He was an enigma, a tangle of contradictions she couldn’t quite unravel. And now, the small world she had been so carefully navigating—architecture projects, hanging out with Mei Mei and Shoko, balancing her coursework—felt too small to contain the storm of thoughts whirling in her mind.

It was late one evening, long after her last class, when she found herself once again outside the mechanic shop. The dim glow of the street lamps cast long shadows over the alleyways, the faint sounds of cars rushing by in the distance. She wasn't sure why she came—maybe part of her wanted answers, or maybe she just wanted to see him.

She stepped inside the shop, the familiar smell of grease and metal flooding her senses. It was quiet, too quiet for a place usually bustling with noise. The silence felt heavy, as though it carried the weight of secrets that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

"Y/n," Toji's voice cut through the stillness, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turned to see him standing by one of the cars he was working on, a lit cigarette between his lips, his tattoos catching the flickering light. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked over her, and she felt that familiar pull—dangerous, magnetic, and impossible to resist.

"You shouldn’t be here," Toji said, his voice low but not unkind. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, watching her with a careful intensity that made her stomach flip.

"Maybe I shouldn’t," she replied, stepping closer. "But I’m here anyway."

Toji’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before setting it aside. "You’re looking for something. What is it?"

Y/n hesitated, the questions swirling in her mind bubbling to the surface. "I don’t know… answers? About you, about what you’re involved in."

He stiffened slightly at her words, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his hair, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air between them.

"It’s complicated," he finally said, his voice rougher than usual. "You don’t need to get involved in this."

"I’m already involved, aren’t I?" Y/n shot back, her frustration bubbling over. "You can’t just kiss me and then act like I’m not going to ask questions, Toji. I’m not stupid."

Toji’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moved toward her, his presence filling the space between them. He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek, and despite her anger, she felt herself leaning into the warmth of his touch.

"You don’t understand, Y/n," he said softly, his thumb grazing her skin. "There’s a lot going on. Things that you’re better off not knowing. If you dig too deep, you won’t like what you find."

"Try me," she whispered, searching his face for any sign that he might let her in.

For a moment, the mask he always wore seemed to falter, something raw and vulnerable flashing in his eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the familiar stoic expression she had come to know.

"It’s not that simple," he muttered, stepping back, his hand falling away from her. He turned back to the car, as though using it as a shield to distance himself from her questions.

Y/n watched him for a moment, her heart aching with frustration. "So that’s it? You’re just going to shut me out?"

Toji didn’t look at her, his hands busy with the engine, but his voice carried an edge of finality. "It’s for your own good."

The words stung, and for a brief moment, Y/n considered storming out, letting the door slam behind her and walking away from whatever this was. But then she thought back to the way he had looked at her that night, the way his touch had lingered just a little too long, and the way his kiss had spoken of more than just lust. There was something deeper there, something he wasn’t saying.

"Toji," she said, her voice softer now, "I don’t need you to protect me. I just need you to be honest with me."

Toji stopped working, his hands resting on the car as he finally turned to face her. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto hers, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for, Y/n," he murmured, stepping closer to her once again. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and something she couldn’t quite name.

"Then tell me," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me understand."

Toji sighed, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. He took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke before meeting her gaze again.

"My family," he began slowly, "they're not what you think. The Zenin name… it carries weight. My uncle… the one you met… he's involved in things that are better left unsaid."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, the puzzle pieces slowly starting to click into place. She had always suspected something was off, with the way Toji moved, the quiet conversations, the subtle tension in the air whenever his uncle was mentioned. But hearing it out loud was different.

"You’re part of it, aren’t you?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Toji’s silence was all the confirmation she needed.

"It’s not by choice," he said quietly. "But it’s my responsibility now."

Y/n felt the weight of his words settle over her. This wasn’t just about some family business—it was about power, control, and danger. And yet, despite the growing sense of unease, she couldn’t walk away.

"And me?" she asked softly, meeting his gaze. "Where do I fit in all of this?"

Toji stepped closer, his hand once again finding its way to her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. "You don’t," he said, his voice low. "And I’m trying to keep it that way."

Sukuna had been leaning against the wall, his sharp eyes scanning the room when he noticed Toji and Y/n standing close, lost in their own world. He smirked and nudged Gojo, who had been joking around nearby. "Look at that," Sukuna murmured under his breath, motioning toward the pair.

Gojo, ever the playful spirit, grinned mischievously as he watched Toji with Y/n. "Aww, how cute," he teased. But then something shifted in his gaze when he noticed a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye—the unmistakable presence of Toji’s uncle, looming in the background, watching intently.

Without hesitation, Gojo strolled over to Toji, giving him a light tap on the shoulder. His usual carefree tone was replaced with a more serious one as he spoke in code, something only Toji would understand. "Your uncle’s eyes are on you, bro. You know better."

The moment Gojo’s words sank in, Toji’s expression changed. His face hardened, the warmth and easy demeanor he had with Y/n disappearing almost instantly. He turned to her, his eyes colder than she had ever seen them before. The sudden shift made her stomach twist in confusion and discomfort.

“Toji, what’s going on?” Y/n asked, her voice small, unsure of what just happened.

Toji didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on her for a second too long, as if fighting some inner battle, but then he turned his back on her without another word. Mumbling something to Gojo under his breath, he walked away, his broad frame retreating toward his uncle, leaving Y/n standing there, stunned and hurt by the sudden coldness.

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at Y/n, his usual playful demeanor returning, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Don’t take it personally. He’s got a lot on his plate," Gojo said, stepping closer to her.

Y/n’s brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "But why did he—"

"Come on," Gojo interrupted gently, his usual grin appearing on his face. "Let me drop you back home. Toji's… dealing with things." He reached out a hand to her, his easygoing nature trying to soften the blow of Toji’s sudden departure.

Y/n hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but she nodded, not wanting to be left alone in the strange atmosphere that had developed in the shop. As they walked toward Gojo’s car, Y/n glanced back once more, catching a glimpse of Toji standing beside his uncle, his back turned to her. Her heart ached, the warmth and connection they had shared moments ago now replaced with a chilling distance she couldn’t understand.

But as his lips ghosted over hers, and the heat between them flared once more, Y/n knew that keeping her out was the last thing he wanted to do. Y/n jumped into Gojo’s car, slamming the door with more force than she intended. Her mind was swirling with emotions—confusion, frustration, hurt—but most of all, she was angry. Toji’s sudden change in demeanor felt like a slap in the face, and the cryptic way everyone around him acted didn’t help.

As Gojo started the engine, Y/n couldn’t hold it in any longer. "What the hell was that, Gojo?" she demanded, her voice sharp and cutting through the tension. "You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on with Toji. What’s his deal? One minute he’s fine, the next, he’s acting like I’m nobody!"

Gojo kept his eyes on the road, his usual light-hearted nature fading into something more serious. "Y/n… it’s not my place to say," he replied, his voice lower than usual.

"Not your place?" she snapped. "You can’t be serious. I just watched him walk away from me like I’m nothing. And you’re telling me you’re not gonna give me anything?"

He sighed but didn’t take his eyes off the road. "Even if it were my place, you’re not part of that world. None of this is your business."

Y/n blinked, shocked by his bluntness. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice rising with disbelief. "Not my business? Are you seriously telling me that after everything I’ve seen—after everything you’ve let me be around—that I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend it’s not happening?"

Gojo finally glanced her way, his normally bright eyes dimmed with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before. "Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying."

Y/n’s anger flared even more at his calm response. "What the hell is wrong with you guys? Your whole crew acts like this—like you're in some secret world, and I’m just supposed to be okay with being left in the dark! I’m not stupid, Gojo. I see the tattoos, the scars, the whispers when Toji’s uncle shows up. You’re all playing some dangerous game, and I’m tired of being on the outside, acting like I don’t notice."

Gojo remained silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as she continued tearing into him. "Toji’s like two different people, and you all enable it. Sukuna, Geto, you—they’re all part of this mess, aren’t they? And now you’re telling me to stay out of it like I’m just some… some extra who doesn’t matter!"

Y/n stopped, breathing hard, her chest heaving with the weight of everything she had been holding in. The car’s engine hummed in the silence that followed. For a moment, Gojo said nothing, just staring at the road ahead.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, glancing at her briefly before turning back to the road. "You done?"

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?" she asked, her tone still sharp.

"I said, are you done?" Gojo repeated, his voice calm, almost too calm. He didn’t seem phased by her outburst, didn’t flinch at her words. It was as if her anger had bounced off him, leaving no impact.

She stared at him, her frustration growing. "You’re seriously not going to say anything?"

Gojo let out a dry laugh, shaking his head slightly. "What do you want me to say, Y/n? That you’re right? That Toji’s life is messed up? That we’re all involved in some shit you can’t even begin to understand? You already know that. But you still think you can just dive into this world and everything’s gonna make sense? It’s not that simple."

She scoffed, crossing her arms, her body rigid in the passenger seat. "Then make it simple for me. Explain something, anything."

Gojo’s jaw tightened for a second. "Here’s the thing, Y/n," he said, his tone a little sharper now. "Toji’s got a lot going on—stuff that’s been building long before you came around. He’s got responsibilities, ones that come with a price. You walking into that? You wouldn’t survive it."

Her eyes narrowed, his words stoking the fire inside her even more. "I can handle myself. I don’t need you to protect me."

Gojo’s lips curled into a small, almost sad smile. "That’s what you think. But trust me, Toji’s world… it’ll swallow you whole. And once you’re in, there’s no getting out." He glanced at her again. "So yeah, maybe it’s best you stay on the outside."

Y/n’s hands clenched into fists in her lap, the weight of his words settling in, but they didn’t quiet the storm inside her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was happening, something that involved Toji on a deeper level. She wasn’t just going to accept his sudden coldness, or this brush-off from Gojo.

"So, what?" she finally asked, her voice calmer but no less firm. "I’m just supposed to forget about tonight? About what happened with Toji?"

Gojo didn’t answer right away, the silence between them thick with unspoken truths. After a long pause, he pulled up in front of her apartment building. The car stopped, and he turned to her, his eyes softer now but still serious.

"I’m telling you, Y/n, let this one go. Toji’s got his own demons to fight. You can’t save him from them."

Without another word, Gojo unlocked the doors. Y/n stared at him for a moment, her heart heavy with frustration and confusion. She knew there was more to the story, more that she wasn’t being told. But for now, she had no choice but to leave it where it was.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and stepped out, glancing back at Gojo one last time before closing the door behind her. As the car pulled away, disappearing down the street, Y/n stood there, feeling more lost than ever.

What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

Before Gojo could fully pull away, Y/n, fueled by anger and frustration, called out to him. "Gojo, wait." He stopped the car and looked over, raising an eyebrow.

"Give Toji a message for me," she said, her voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and resolve. "Tell him to just forget about me. I’m no longer interested."

Gojo’s expression shifted, his usual easygoing nature momentarily replaced by something more serious. He turned off the car engine, took a deep breath, and got out, rounding the car until he was standing in front of her. His gaze softened slightly as he leaned against the car, arms crossed. "Y/n, chill."

"Chill?" Y/n’s voice shot up as she stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell are you on? Are you serious right now?" Her eyes blazed, her patience worn thin. "Are you on crack or something?"

Gojo scoffed, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Nah, that shit ain't my thing." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "But I’m serious, you need to cool down. I get it, you’re pissed. Toji messed up, and this whole thing sucks, but saying you're 'no longer interested'?" He shook his head. "You don’t mean that."

Y/n crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. "I do. I’m tired of being left in the dark, tired of all the games, tired of you guys acting like I’m just some outsider who doesn’t deserve to know what’s going on. If he wants to treat me like I don’t matter, then fine. I’ll walk away."

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I can’t pretend to know everything that’s going on in Toji’s head. He’s a mess right now, I’ll give you that. But walking away? You sure that’s what you want?" His voice softened, his blue eyes searching hers for a sign that maybe she didn’t really mean it.

Y/n bit her lip, looking away for a moment. A part of her wanted to take it back, to hold onto the Toji she thought she knew, the one she felt drawn to despite everything. But then she remembered how cold he had been, how distant and dismissive. Her heart ached, but her pride refused to let her crumble.

"I’m sure," she finally said, though her voice faltered just slightly. "He made his choice, and now I’m making mine."

Gojo studied her for a moment, his smirk gone, replaced by something more genuine. "Alright," he said, nodding. "I’ll tell him, but don’t be surprised if he doesn’t take it well." He tilted his head, giving her a small smile. "Toji doesn’t exactly do well with people walking away."

Y/n huffed. "Well, he should’ve thought about that before treating me like nothing."

Gojo stood up straight, walking back around to the driver’s side. "Noted," he said as he got back in the car. "But just so you know… Toji’s not the type to forget. So don’t be too shocked if he comes knocking anyway."

With that, he revved the engine and shot her one last look, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Take care, Y/n."

And then he was gone, leaving her standing on the sidewalk, heart pounding, thoughts racing. Part of her wanted to believe that walking away was the right choice, that cutting ties with Toji Zenin would give her the peace she craved.

But deep down, she knew—Toji was far from done with her. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready to let him go either.

Gojo headed back to the shop, his usual carefree demeanor slightly more subdued. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of Sukuna pacing back and forth, his face twisted in frustration. Toji, meanwhile, sat in the corner, an air of fury radiating from him as he eyed Geto. His expression was a mixture of anger and annoyance, his jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might crack.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, mumbling under his breath, “His uncle at it again, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a glare but said nothing, continuing his agitated pacing. Gojo, not wanting to deal with Sukuna’s temper, walked over to Toji, who was nursing a busted lip. Toji had a joint hanging loosely from his lips, smoke curling lazily around his head as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

The sight of him, beaten and bruised, sent a ripple of tension through Gojo. He knew Toji’s temper, knew how dangerous he could be when pushed to his limit. And from the look on his face, he was teetering dangerously close to that edge.

Gojo hesitated, glancing at the watch on his hand. He debated whether he should tell Toji what Y/n had said earlier, but seeing the state his friend was in, he quickly decided against it. The last thing Toji needed was another reason to spiral.

But as if fate had a cruel sense of timing, Toji’s phone buzzed on the table next to him. He picked it up and glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing immediately.

It was a text from Y/n.

"I know Gojo’s too much of a punk to tell you what I said,so you better ask him"

Gojo watched as Toji’s expression darkened further, the tension in the room becoming almost unbearable. Toji’s hands tightened around the phone, his knuckles white as he read the message. His lips curled into a dangerous sneer, and without taking his eyes off the screen, he growled, "Tell me exactly what she said, Satoru."

Gojo, caught off guard, froze for a moment. “Huh?” He knew what Toji was referring to, but hoped playing dumb might defuse the situation.

Toji’s gaze flicked up to Gojo, his eyes cold and filled with a quiet fury. “Don’t play with me right now,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Tell me what Y/n said.”

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he weighed his options. Toji wasn’t going to let this go. He might as well rip off the bandage. "She, uh, told me to give you a message. Said she’s done. Doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore." He hesitated, then added, "She told me to tell you to stay the fuck away from her."

The room went dead silent. Sukuna stopped pacing, and even Geto, who had been lounging nearby, straightened up, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

Toji’s expression hardened further, his eyes like shards of ice as he stared at the text on his phone. Slowly, he set the phone down, leaning back in his chair. His jaw worked as he bit down on the joint, smoke swirling around his head in a thick cloud.

"Stay the fuck away from her, huh?" Toji muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

Gojo winced, knowing this was far from over. He could see the storm brewing in Toji’s eyes, the dangerous mix of rage and obsession that was simmering just beneath the surface. Y/n’s message hadn’t deterred him—it had only made things worse.

Toji took another drag from his joint, the smoke curling lazily as he exhaled. He stood up slowly, wiping the blood from his lip again, and glanced over at Sukuna and Geto. "We’re not done," he said, his voice cold and emotionless.

Gojo knew that look. It was the look of a man who had already made up his mind. Toji wasn’t about to let Y/n slip away—not without a fight.

And when Toji decided to fight for something, he never lost.

Gojo watched in silence as Toji stood up from the chair, his entire body taut with tension. He wasn’t moving in a rush, but there was something ominous in his slow, deliberate movements. He could feel the weight of what was coming; whatever Toji had planned next wasn’t going to end well for anyone. Especially Y/n.

Sukuna stopped pacing and turned to look at Toji, an eyebrow raised. "What’s the plan?" Sukuna asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was bracing himself for Toji's inevitable outburst.

Toji flicked his gaze toward Sukuna, his expression unreadable. "Same plan as always," he said, voice low. "Business first. Then I’ll deal with her."

Gojo swallowed, knowing better than to push further but couldn't help but feel unsettled. "And what does ‘deal with her’ mean?" Gojo asked, despite himself, hoping to at least gauge just how far gone Toji was.

Toji turned to face him fully, a cold smile playing on his lips. "It means I’ll remind her that no one walks away from me. Especially not someone like her."

Gojo’s blood ran cold at the calm way Toji said it, as if Y/n was just another problem to be solved. He wasn’t used to seeing Toji this far into his own head, consumed by the need to control something—or in this case, someone.

Sukuna leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "You sure that’s a good idea, Toji?" he asked, his voice still laid-back, but his eyes sharp. "She already wants out. You think pushing her is gonna do you any favors?"

Toji’s jaw ticked, but his voice remained steady. "She thinks she can run. She thinks that by telling me to stay away, it’s over. But she doesn’t know me. Not yet."

Gojo could see Sukuna shift, glancing at Geto, who remained silent on the other side of the room. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Toji’s gaze flicked back to Gojo, as if daring him to say something. But Gojo remained silent. There was nothing he could say that would sway Toji in this state. He was a man with a singular focus—Y/n.

Toji picked up his phone, staring at Y/n’s text one last time before locking the screen. "She’ll come around," he muttered, almost to himself. "She just doesn’t know it yet."

Gojo sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Look, man, maybe you should chill for a bit, y’know? She’s pissed, sure, but pushing her—"

Toji cut him off with a sharp look. "I don’t care if she’s pissed, Satoru. She’s mine. She’s always been mine. She just needs to be reminded."

Sukuna finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "This isn’t about reminding her, Toji. It’s about control. And you’re losing it."

Toji's eyes flashed dangerously, but before he could respond, Sukuna held up a hand. "I’m not saying you let her go. But you gotta be smart about this. What’s the point in claiming her if she hates your guts? You want her, right? So stop scaring her off."

For a moment, it seemed like Sukuna’s words had gotten through, but then Toji shook his head, his expression hardening once more. "She’s not going anywhere."

Gojo let out a frustrated breath, but it was clear the conversation was over. Toji had made up his mind, and there was no reasoning with him when he got like this.

A sudden buzzing noise filled the room, and Gojo realized it was Toji’s phone. He checked the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read another message from Y/n:

"Don't even think about showing your face near me again Zenin. I swear"

Gojo felt the room shift, the weight of Y/n’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Toji’s face was unreadable as he stared at the screen, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

Without a word, Toji stood up, his phone still in his hand. He didn’t look at anyone as he moved toward the door, his movements quick and decisive.

"Toji, wait—" Gojo called after him, but Toji didn’t stop. He was already gone, out the door before anyone could say another word.

Sukuna let out a low whistle. "This is gonna get ugly."

Geto, who had remained silent through the entire exchange, finally spoke up. "It already is."

Gojo slumped back against the wall, running a hand over his face. He knew what was coming. He knew Toji wasn’t going to let this go, not without a fight. And Y/n… she had no idea what kind of storm was about to hit her.

"You think we should stop him?" Gojo asked, though he already knew the answer.

Sukuna shrugged, a dark smile tugging at his lips. "We can’t stop him. Not when it comes to her."

Geto nodded in agreement. "Toji’s already too far gone. The best we can do is pick up the pieces when it all blows up."

Gojo sighed. "Yeah… I just hope there’s something left to pick up."

Toji stormed toward his custom black 1979 Dodge Charger, a dark cloud of rage hanging over him like a thunderstorm ready to burst. The world around him faded as his focus narrowed, every muscle in his body tense and ready for a fight. But just as he reached the driver’s door, a gunshot rang out, echoing in the air with a sharp crack that made his heart leap.

Expecting pain, Toji braced himself, but instead, he felt the rush of air as the bullet missed him, striking the tire of his car instead. He scoffed, disbelief and fury igniting inside him as he turned, glaring at his uncle Naobito, who stood there with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Oops, I missed,” Naobito mocked, his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. “Next time, I’ll aim for Y/n.”

Toji’s blood ran cold, his entire body going rigid with rage. The mere thought of his uncle threatening Y/n was enough to snap the last fraying thread of his restraint. He couldn’t let this man get to her. Not now, not ever.

He shot Sukuna a quick glance, then tossed his car keys at him without a second thought. “fix the flat on this,” he growled, knowing Sukuna would have it sorted by the time he was back at the shop. His focus was already shifting toward Gojo, who stood nearby, a look of surprise and concern on his face.

Before he could process anything further, Toji snatched Gojo's car keys from his hand and hopped into the driver’s seat of the Mazda RX-8. The engine roared to life, drowning out the chaos behind him as he slammed the accelerator, peeling away from the shop with a screech of tires.

The adrenaline coursed through him as he sped through the streets, his mind racing just as fast as the car. He needed to get to Y/n, to make sure she was safe from the threat that loomed over her like a dark shadow. The thought of Naobito’s words replayed in his mind, stoking the flames of his anger. There was no way he’d let his uncle have power over his life or Y/n’s.

As he drove, the city lights blurred past him, neon signs flickering like stars in the night. Toji felt the pull of the streets, the rush of street racing calling to him, but he pushed it aside for now. There was only one thing on his mind—Y/n.

He navigated through the bustling streets, weaving between cars and taking sharp turns, his heart pounding with urgency. The closer he got to her apartment, the more determined he became. She deserved to know the truth, to understand the danger that surrounded him.

Pulling into her building’s lot, he parked hastily, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He jumped out of the car and sprinted towards the entrance, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her. He’d face his uncle and the mafia if it meant keeping Y/n safe.

Rage ignited within Toji, burning hot and fierce. He turned to glare at his uncle, but before he could react, Sukuna stepped forward, his expression serious. “Let’s go, Toji. We need to get you out of here.”

Ignoring the concern in Sukuna’s eyes, Toji scoffed, tossing his car keys toward him. “I’m not running from this.” With renewed determination, he snatched Gojo's car keys from his pocket and revved the engine, the powerful growl of the engine matching the storm brewing inside him. He was already on his way to Y/n’s, and nothing would stop him.

He had no intention of sharing his truth—his mafia ties, the chaos that surrounded him—no way was he letting her in on that world. He couldn’t let her slip away, not now that he’d finally found the courage to approach her, to pursue something real. Even if it meant telling half-truths, he’d play whatever game he had to.

When he arrived at Y/n's door, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction. He knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet night. A moment later, the door swung open, and there she stood—her fiery spirit radiating from her, eyes filled with anger.

“Didn’t Gojo tell you I don’t want you?” she snapped, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “I texted you! I’m done. I mean, we weren’t ever anything, but I’m not doing whatever the fuck this is, Zenin.”

Toji felt a sharp pain in his chest at her words. “Y/n, just hear me out,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady. He stepped closer, determined to break through her defenses. “I know what you heard, but I’m not here for the drama. I just want to talk.”

“Talk?” She scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You think you can just show up here after the way you've been acting and expect me to listen? You think I’m going to let you pull me into whatever mess you have going on?”

Toji swallowed hard, sensing the wall she’d built between them. “It’s not like that. I just—I need you to know that I didn’t come here to hurt you. I know things are complicated, but I want to figure it out. I want to understand you, and—”

Y/n cut him off, shaking her head. “Understand me? You don’t even know me, Toji! All you know is how to act tough and make threats. You think you can just walk into my life and say you want to understand? You’re part of something I don’t want to be involved in.”

Toji's heart sank as he looked into her eyes, and he could see the resolve in them. He could feel the distance between them growing, and with every word she threw at him, he realized how deep the chasm had become. “I’m not asking you to be part of anything,” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I just want you to let me in.”

She hesitated for a moment, and in that pause, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he could break through, maybe she would give him a chance. But then her expression hardened again, and the hope faded.

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re not safe for me, Toji. You think you can just come in here, smile, and pretend everything is okay? You can’t just erase the fact that you’re tangled up in sum fuck shit you won't even tell me about.”

Toji’s chest tightened, and he took a step closer, lowering his voice to a softer tone. “I know I have things to sort out, but I swear I’m trying to change. I don’t want that life. I want something real. With you.”

Y/n’s eyes searched his face, her expression wavering. He could see the conflict within her, the part that was drawn to him despite the warnings. But just as quickly, her resolve returned. “You need to leave, Toji. I can’t do this.”

Toji felt like the ground had shifted beneath him, leaving him unsteady. “I can’t just walk away. Not now. Not after getting close to you.”

The intensity of his words hung in the air, but Y/n remained unmoved, shaking her head slowly.

“Then you’re making a mistake,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is your choice. You can either keep running toward that life, or you can turn around and leave it behind. But I can’t be part of your chaos.”

Toji clenched his fists, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. He had fought too hard to let this slip away. “I’m not asking you to join me in the chaos,” he said, his voice fierce. “I’m asking you to trust me. Just give me a chance.”

But Y/n stood firm, the door blocking the world behind her. “Trust is earned, Toji. You’ve got a long way to go.”

With that, she closed the door, leaving him outside, staring at the closed barrier between them. Each word she’d spoken echoed in his mind, and for the first time, he understood the weight of the choices he’d made.

As he turned away, a storm of emotions surged within him. He couldn’t lose her, not when he was finally ready to fight for what mattered. But if he was going to keep her in his life, he knew he had to confront the darkness and break free from the chains binding him to his past.

Toji made a silent vow to himself: he would not give up. He would prove to her that he was more than just the sum of his mistakes.

Toji leaned against Y/n's door, his resolve hardening as he pulled out his phone to check for notifications. A message from his younger brother, Megumi, popped up on the screen, and Toji's heart sank at the words that flashed before him: Dad knows about you and Y/n.

He scoffed under his breath, muttering, “There is no ‘me and Y/n.’” then texted the same.

Megumi responded almost instantly with a laughing emoji: Keep telling yourself that when everyone can see otherwise.

Toji’s stomach twisted at the thought of his family’s involvement in his life, particularly his father’s disapproval. He had worked hard to carve out a space for himself away from their expectations, and he refused to let them dictate this part of his life, especially when it came to Y/n.

With a heavy sigh, he knocked on her door again, feeling a mix of frustration and desperation. When Y/n opened it, her expression was a mixture of irritation and surprise. “Toji, please leave,” she said firmly, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Not now.

“No.” The word came out sharper than he intended, but he pushed past her, stepping into her apartment. His breath caught as he took in the sight before him. The space was stunning—filled with carefully curated furniture and art pieces that screamed her passion for interior design and architecture. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating the vibrant colors and textures that reflected her Caribbean roots.

He’d seen her talent in passing, but being here, surrounded by her work, ignited a newfound admiration within him. This was a world where she thrived, and he felt a pang of longing to be part of it.

“Get out, Zenin,” Y/n raised her voice, her patience clearly wearing thin.

Toji’s heart raced as he stepped closer, instinctively reaching out to grab her wrist. Before she could protest, he pulled her to him, letting her fall into his lap as he sank down onto her plush couch. He felt the heat radiating off her body, and the scent of her shampoo—a sweet, floral aroma—filled his senses.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. He could feel the tension between them, electric and thick. He had no idea how to fix this or where to begin, but he knew he couldn’t let her push him away.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “Sorry for what? For barging into my home uninvited? For pretending like everything is fine when it’s clearly not?”

“For everything,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I know I messed up. I didn’t mean to make things complicated. I just—I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/n stiffened, her expression wavering between anger and something softer. “You’re not going to lose me by ignoring the reality of your life, Toji. You’re tangled up in something dangerous. You can’t just pull me in and expect it to be easy.”

“I don’t want you to be part of that,” he replied, his grip tightening around her waist instinctively. “But I need you to understand that I’m trying to change. I’m trying to be someone you can rely on.”

“Change?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “You think a few sweet words will erase everything you’ve done? You think I can just forget who you are?”

Toji stared at her, the intensity in her gaze making his chest ache. “No, I don’t expect you to forget. But I want a chance to show you I’m more than what everyone thinks I am. I’m not just ‘Toji Zenin, the bad boy.’ I want to be something different. I want to be with you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw the walls she’d built around her begin to crack. “And what if I can’t trust you?” she challenged, her voice trembling slightly. “What if this is all just some game to you?”

“It’s not a game,” he insisted, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’m not trying to play with your feelings. I came here because I want you, Y/n. You’re not just another girl to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, he leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against her ear. “Just give me a chance. Let me prove it.”

For a moment, the world around them faded away, and all he could focus on was her. The way her heart raced beneath his touch, the way her breath quickened. He could sense her hesitation, but in the depths of her eyes, he saw something else—a flicker of hope, a hint of longing that mirrored his own.

“Okay,” she finally whispered, almost breathless. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?” he asked, leaning back slightly to look into her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said firmly. “Be honest about everything. No more secrets. I can’t do this if I don’t know the truth.”

Toji nodded, the weight of her request settling on his shoulders. “I promise,” he vowed, feeling a surge of determination. “No more secrets.”

As the moment hung between them, he felt a spark of something real igniting in the air. He had a long way to go, but he would fight for this, for her. Whatever it took.

Toji knew he had just lied to Y/n, and the weight of it settled heavily in his gut. He wanted to protect her, to keep her away from the darkness that loomed over his life, but he also felt the suffocating grip of the truth closing in around him. He couldn’t let her get caught up in the chaos of the Zenin family, the secrets that tangled like a web around him. Not when he was finally starting to feel something real for her.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. The scent of her lingered in the air, intoxicating and sweet. He leaned closer, his heart racing as he took in the warmth of her body against his. “What scent is this?” he asked, his voice low and slightly husky.

“Hot Florals by Bath and Body Works,” Y/n replied, a hint of shyness creeping into her tone as she felt the intensity of his gaze on her.

He inhaled deeper, allowing the fragrance to envelop him. “You smell so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice a rasp that sent a shiver down her spine. There was a spark in her eyes, one that he hadn’t noticed before, and it ignited something primal within him. The way she responded to his words made his heart race, and he found himself leaning even closer, his lips nearly brushing against her neck.

Y/n swallowed hard, her breath hitching as she felt the heat radiating off him. “Toji…” she started, but the words faltered as he pressed his face deeper into her scent, intoxicated by the floral notes mixed with something uniquely hers.

“Tell me you feel this,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above her skin, teasingly close but not crossing the line. “Tell me you feel what’s happening between us.”

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is all so sudden…”

He could feel the tension building, thick and heavy like a storm brewing in the air. Toji’s instincts kicked in, and he wanted to push forward, to claim this moment with her and make her understand just how much she meant to him. “I don’t want to rush you, but I can’t pretend like I don’t want you,” he confessed, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

Y/n looked at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and longing. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No,” he said firmly, feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over him. “I mean it. But I can’t let you in on all the details of my life—not yet. Not until I can keep you safe.”

Her brows furrowed as she processed his words. “Safe? From what, Toji?”

“From my world,” he replied, his voice dropping to a murmur. “It’s not a place for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from that side of me. You deserve better than that.”

“Better than you?” she challenged, her tone incredulous. “You think you’re not worth it because of your family?”

“I’m trying to protect you, Y/n,” he insisted, his grip tightening around her waist as he pulled her closer again. “I want you to be happy, and that means keeping you away from the shit I’m tied to.”

Y/n searched his eyes, looking for the truth beneath the surface. “But you can’t just keep me in the dark either. If we’re going to do this, I need to know who you really are.”

Toji sighed, torn between wanting to share everything and fearing what that would mean for her. “I just wish things were different. I wish I could show you the real me without the shadows.”

“I don’t want you to hide,” she said softly, her expression softening. “But I also won’t settle for half-truths.”

He nodded, the determination surging within him. “Then let’s start fresh. I’ll tell you what I can, and you can decide if you still want to be around me. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Careful?” she scoffed lightly, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “I can handle myself, Zenin. But I appreciate the concern.”

Toji chuckled softly, his mood lifting slightly. “You’re stubborn.”

“Only when I need to be,” she retorted, her lips curling into a smile. The moment felt lighter, the tension beginning to ease as they settled into a more comfortable rhythm.

As he looked into her eyes, he felt a sense of hope building. He might be lying to her about some things, but there was one truth he couldn’t deny: he wanted her in his life, regardless of the risks. And he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, even if that meant facing the demons of his past head-on.

“Okay, then,” he said, breaking the moment with a playful grin. “Let’s take it one step at a time. How about you tell me more about your design projects, and I’ll share a bit about my—less glamorous—life?”

Y/n smiled back, the warmth between them rekindling as she launched into a passionate explanation of her latest design concept. For the first time, Toji felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. Toji smiled, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body against his. Her laughter rang sweetly in his ears, a sound he could easily become addicted to. He couldn’t help but revel in the way she ran her fingers through his hair, igniting a spark of affection in his chest.

“Your hands are magic,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly to savor the sensation. But then her expression shifted, and he felt the weight of her gaze as she studied his face.

“What happened to your face?” she asked, concern knitting her brow.

Toji’s mind flashed back to the earlier confrontation with his uncle, the fight that had left its mark. He could still feel the sting of the words exchanged and the blow to his pride. He forced a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Oh, that? Just a little roughhousing with Sukuna at the shop. He was giving me a hard time for being mean to you earlier,” he lied smoothly, hoping the casual tone would deflect any further probing.

“Roughhousing?” she repeated skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see through his facade. “You look like you went ten rounds with a boxer.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, leaning back slightly to brush it off. “Sukuna and I can get a bit competitive, that’s all.” He flashed her a playful grin, hoping to lighten the mood. “You should’ve seen the other guy,” he added, trying to inject humor into the situation.

Y/n arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” she challenged, crossing her arms in front of her. “You can’t just shrug it off. I care about you, Toji.”

His heart thudded at her words, the sincerity in her tone making him feel both elated and terrified. “I appreciate that, but seriously, it’s really not a big deal,” he said, his voice softening. “I just… I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“But I can’t help it,” she replied, her gaze unwavering. “If we’re going to do this—whatever this is—I need to know you’re okay. I want to be there for you, not just some passing interest.”

Toji’s chest tightened at her words. He wanted to let her in, to share everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly—but he couldn’t bring himself to drag her into his messy life. Not when she looked at him like he was something precious, something worth protecting.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” he said finally, his voice earnest. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Y/n huffed a little laugh, her worry softening. “I can see that. But just know, I’m not going anywhere. If you ever need to talk—about anything—I’m here. Even if it means hearing about your roughhousing antics with Sukuna.”

Toji felt a wave of warmth wash over him at her words. “You really mean that?” he asked, his heart swelling.

“Of course I do,” she replied, her smile brightening the room. “I’m not easily scared off, Zenin. Trust me.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around her tighter as he pulled her closer. “Because I might need you more than you realize.”

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Toji felt a mix of emotions swirling within him—gratitude, affection, and a lingering sense of dread about what the future held. But with Y/n by his side, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he could find a way to balance his chaotic life with the growing connection they shared.

Y/n shifted slightly, resting her head against his shoulder. “So, how’s your day going aside from the ‘roughhousing’?”

Toji chuckled softly, “Honestly? It’s gotten a lot better now that I'm here with you.”

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

“Good to know,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Because I plan to use it all on you.”

As the laughter faded, they both settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in thought but feeling the warmth of the moment. For the first time in a long while, Toji felt like maybe—just maybe—he could let someone in and still keep them safe from the storms brewing in his life.

Toji found himself lost in Y/n’s eyes, the depth of them pulling him in, making him feel more vulnerable than he ever intended. He wasn’t used to this—letting his guard down. But something about Y/n disarmed him, made him feel like he could be himself, even if he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

Y/n smiled, noticing his gaze lingering longer than usual. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, her voice soft, teasing, but curious.

Toji snapped out of his thoughts, smirking in an attempt to mask the whirlwind of emotions running through his mind. He cleared his throat and leaned in slightly. “Because you look good,” he replied smoothly, his deep voice carrying a hint of playful mischief. “That’s why.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed a bit, but she laughed and lightly smacked his chest. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Smooth Talker.”

Toji was about to respond, but his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the moment. He subtly pulled it out, glancing at the message from Gojo:

"Swinging by Y/n’s to pick up my car and drop off yours. But heads up—your uncle’s asking about you and Y/n. Try to keep her out of shit."

Toji’s jaw tightened slightly as he skimmed the message. His shoulders tensed, and an involuntary wave of protectiveness surged through him. His uncle had a way of complicating things, and the last thing he wanted was for Y/n to get caught up in the dangerous world he was part of. She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t even know the half of it.

Y/n noticed the shift in his demeanor. “Everything okay?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

Toji quickly pocketed his phone, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he lied. “Just Gojo being an idiot as usual.” He chuckled, trying to brush it off.

But Y/n wasn’t so easily fooled. She tilted her head, studying him like she always did when something felt off. “You sure? You just tensed up like you’re about to fight someone.”

Toji grinned, trying to play it cool. “I’m always ready to fight someone,” he joked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to distract her. “But seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s just some car stuff.”

She gave him a skeptical look but decided not to push further, resting her head on his chest. Toji took a deep breath, trying to focus on the moment instead of the chaos that always seemed to lurk around the corner. But the truth weighed heavy on him—his uncle’s interest in Y/n was a threat he couldn’t ignore.

His phone buzzed again, and this time, Toji silenced it without looking. Right now, his priority was Y/n. Keeping her out of the mess he was in had to be his focus, even if it meant lying to her, pushing her away, or hiding parts of his life. But how long could he keep up the charade?

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice broke through his thoughts. “If there’s ever anything you need to tell me, you know you can, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

Toji felt a pang of guilt but covered it with another charming smile. “I know, Y/n. Trust me, I’ll keep you in the loop.”

He didn’t know how long he could keep that promise.

Toji released yn to head downstairs saying "I'll be back shortly, gotta go downstairs. Satoru and i need to sort something out real quick. With that said, he went downstairs.

Toji leaned against Gojo’s car, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared off into the distance, still trying to shake off the tense feeling from earlier. Gojo handed him his own keys back, glancing at him with an unspoken question in his eyes. "Naobito really got his eye on you, huh?"

Toji grunted, avoiding the topic. "Always. But I got it handled." He wasn’t about to let Gojo see how deep the stress went. The last thing he needed was for Y/n to get caught up in that.

Just then, Mei Mei and Shoko pulled up, both stepping out of the car like they owned the world. Mei Mei, with her usual confident smirk, noticed Toji first and immediately burst into laughter. "Well, well, well. Toji Zenin at Y/n’s place. And here I thought she kept her life private," she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Toji didn't acknowledge her comment, his focus still on the ground as he exchanged his car keys with Gojo. Gojo, however, couldn't resist groaning as Mei Mei’s sharp eyes fell on him next. She winked playfully. "And look who it is. Gojo Satoru, always lingering around. You know, Gojo, maybe one day—"

"Mei Mei, please. Stop," Gojo cut her off with a groan, already anticipating where she was going with this.

She raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained. "Hmmm, how about…?" she trailed off, leaning closer as if she had another snarky comment ready to drop.

Gojo threw his hands up, stopping her in her tracks. "No more talks about my dad, Mei Mei. Seriously."

Mei Mei laughed, shaking her head, clearly enjoying Gojo's discomfort. "Relax, Satoru. I’m just messing with you."

With that, she and Shoko strolled toward the building, leaving Gojo shaking his head in disbelief. Toji, still leaning against his car, finally spoke up, his voice low. "She’s gonna cause you trouble one of these days."

Gojo smirked, running a hand through his hair. "She already does, but hey, keeps life interesting."

As the two stood there in silence for a moment, Gojo studied Toji carefully, noticing the tension still present in his body. "You sure about Y/n, man? I mean… all this stuff with your uncle. She's bound to get caught up in it eventually."

Toji’s jaw clenched at Gojo’s words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed off from the car and handed Gojo his keys. "I’ll handle it. Just keep her out of anything she doesn’t need to know."

Gojo shrugged. "Alright, man. Just don’t let it blow up in your face."

As Toji turned to head back toward Y/n’s apartment, he spotted Mei Mei and Shoko talking and laughing outside her door. He sighed. Great, more people knowing where she lives.

Before heading back up, Toji glanced at Gojo. "Watch my back with Uncle. And if he asks—"

"Yeah, yeah," Gojo interrupted, waving him off. "I'll cover for you. Just try not to make it worse."

Toji grunted in acknowledgment, then started making his way back inside, bracing himself for whatever trouble Mei Mei might stir up next. All the while, he couldn't stop thinking about how complicated things were getting with Y/n—and how much he needed to protect her, even if it meant keeping her in the dark.

Gojo casually reached into Toji's glove compartment, pulling out a small baggie filled with neatly rolled joints. "C'mon, smoke one with me," he said, twirling a joint between his fingers as he smirked. "Because," he nodded toward the apartment complex with a grin, "Y/n’s gonna be busy with Shoko and Ms. Eat-A-Man’s Money up there."

Toji exhaled through his nose, his irritation palpable, but he accepted the joint from Gojo. Leaning against the car, he lit it up and took a long drag, trying to shake off the stress of the night. As the smoke filled his lungs, his mind momentarily calmed, though he knew it wouldn’t last.

"You know," Gojo began, lighting up his own joint, "you’re walking a thin line here. Y/n’s got no idea who you really are, what you’re tied to. And your uncle…" Gojo trailed off, side-eyeing Toji, "he’s gonna find a way to drag her into it."

Toji flicked the ash off his joint, his eyes narrowing. "She won’t be dragged into anything. Not if I can help it."

Gojo chuckled darkly, taking a puff. "Toji, you can’t control everything. And Y/n… she’s not stupid. She’s already asking questions."

Toji clenched his jaw but didn’t respond immediately, staring off into the distance, smoke swirling around him. He thought of Y/n upstairs, probably laughing with Shoko and Mei Mei, blissfully unaware of the world he was tangled in. The lies, the danger—all of it was piling up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her shielded from the truth.

"I'll figure it out," Toji finally said, his voice low, almost to himself.

Gojo shrugged, taking another hit. "If you say so, man. Just don’t let it all blow up in your face when the truth comes knocking." He blew out a thick cloud of smoke, letting the silence settle between them as they passed the joint back and forth.

Upstairs, they could hear faint laughter, likely Y/n and the girls. Gojo smirked, shaking his head. "She’s already neck-deep in this, and she doesn’t even know it. That’s the dangerous part."

Toji clenched his teeth. It was true. Y/n was becoming more important to him than he’d planned, and with his uncle breathing down his neck, the walls were closing in faster than he could maneuver around them.

“I can handle my uncle,” Toji muttered, but the doubt was creeping in, and he hated it.

Gojo raised a brow, his lips curling into a lazy smile. "Sure you can. But what happens when Y/n’s the one standing in his crosshairs? You ready for that?"

Toji didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took another deep drag from the joint, letting the smoke burn away the unease in his chest, if only for a moment. His thoughts swirled with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, but the one thing he couldn’t deny was that he wasn’t about to let anyone—especially his uncle—hurt Y/n.

"That’s not gonna happen," he finally said, his voice gruff. "I’ll keep her out of it."

Gojo didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. "We’ll see, Zenin. We’ll see."

As they smoked in silence, the weight of their words lingered in the air, along with the very real possibility that things were about to spiral out of control.

Toji felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and as he pulled it out, he noticed a message from Shui Kong, his long-time best friend who was rarely in the country.

Shui Kong: Yo, where you at? Got some news to fill you in on. It’s important.

Toji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he read the text. Just what he needed—more complications. He looked over at Gojo, who leaned in closer, squinting at the screen as if he could decipher the entire conversation just by reading the text.

"What's up? Is it about Y/n?" Gojo asked, his tone casual, but Toji could hear the underlying curiosity in his voice.

Toji shook his head, dismissing the question. "Nah, it's Shui. He’s back in town, and he says he has news."

Gojo smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You know that never bodes well, right? What if he’s bringing back more trouble? You already have enough on your plate."

"Yeah, well, I can’t exactly ignore him. We’ve been through too much together," Toji replied, feeling the weight of his friend’s sudden return looming over him. There was a lot of unfinished business between them, especially after everything that had gone down before Shui left.

Gojo leaned back against the car, arms crossed, his expression turning serious. "Just be careful. You know how things get when he’s around. And if it has anything to do with your family or that mafia mess…" he trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air.

Toji bit his lip, torn between wanting to answer Shui and not wanting to draw more trouble into his already chaotic life. After a moment, he decided to reply.

Toji: I’m at the shop. What’s the news?

He pressed send and glanced back at Gojo, who was still watching him with an amused expression. "You think he’ll drop another bomb on you? Maybe tell you he’s running for president or something?"

Toji rolled his eyes, trying to shake off the anxious feeling in his gut. "I just want to get through this night without any more surprises."

Before Gojo could respond, Toji's phone buzzed again with a reply from Shui.

Shui Kong: I’m coming by. Got some intel on your uncle and the Zenin business. You’ll want to hear this.

Toji’s heart sank. He exchanged a worried glance with Gojo, who raised an eyebrow, clearly reading between the lines. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Guess we’ll find out," Toji muttered, a sense of dread settling in. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever news Shui had would change everything.

Just as he was about to respond, Gojo's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, his brow furrowing. "It’s Y/n. She wants to know if you’re okay. Seems like she's worried."

Toji felt a warmth spread in his chest at her concern but quickly masked it with indifference. "Just tell her I’m fine. I’ll talk to her later."

Gojo shrugged, smirking again. "You know, you could be a little more honest with her. Maybe she wouldn’t feel the need to check up on you if you didn’t have that whole mysterious bad boy vibe going on."

Toji shot him a glare. "Shut up, Gojo."

But inside, the comment lingered. Maybe he was playing too many cards close to his chest, especially with Y/n. As he thought about her, another text from Shui came in.

Shui Kong: People are starting to talk about you and Y/n, you better tread carefully, my friend.

Toji's fingers tightened around his phone, annoyance flashing across his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

Gojo chuckled, already guessing the answer. "Looks like you’re not the only one who sees how deep you’re in with her. Just don’t get her caught up in your family drama."

Toji opened his mouth to retort but decided against it. Instead, he glanced back at the apartment, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/n and how far he was willing to go to keep her safe. The storm brewing on the horizon felt closer than ever, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

"Let’s just get through tonight," he said finally, his resolve hardening. "Then we’ll figure out what to do next."

Toji took another pull from the joint trying to clear his head. He knew lying to yn would only bite him in the ass later but he would deal with that when it comes. hopefully it doesn't cause him to lose her.

Toji sighed, running a hand through his hair as he said, "Lemme go tell Y/n I gotta go." He turned to head back upstairs, but Gojo, ever the shadow, locked his car and walked behind him.

"Where are you going?" Toji asked, exasperated.

"Obviously, I'm not gonna miss you acting unusual in front of Y/n. I need proof for the group chat, you know this," Gojo shot back, a smirk on his face.

Toji scoffed but didn't argue. He marched back to Y/n's apartment, Gojo trailing behind him, probably buzzing with the prospect of a good story.

When he knocked on the door, he heard Shoko shout from the other side, "It's open!"

Toji pushed the door open and stepped inside, only to be greeted by a scene he hadn’t expected. The room was filled with a haze of smoke, and he could see Shoko and Mei Mei lounging on the couch, a blunt circulating between them. Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, her back to him, laughing at something they were saying.

Toji's eyes widened as he took in Y/n’s outfit—a pair of burnt orange silk shorts and a cropped shirt of the same color, accentuating her figure perfectly. Her ombre-dyed faux locs were styled in double puffs, giving her an effortlessly chic look that made his heart race.

Gojo’s eyes darted between Toji’s expression and the scene unfolding in front of him, silently judging the sudden shift in energy.

Mei Mei was the first to speak, a playful glint in her eye. "Told you he'd come back upstairs, Y/n."

Toji’s gaze landed squarely on Y/n, trying to control the feral reaction that threatened to bubble to the surface. The sight of her looking so carefree, so vibrant, ignited a possessiveness in him that he struggled to suppress. He had never seen her like this, so relaxed and unguarded, and it stirred something deep inside him.

"Hey, Toji!" Y/n turned to him, her smile brightening the room. But her cheerful demeanor only made his internal conflict stronger. "What’s up?"

"Uh, I just came to say I have to head out for a bit," Toji managed to reply, his voice sounding rougher than he intended. He couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to pull her close and protect her from whatever chaos lay ahead.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, tilting her head, her curiosity piqued.

"Just...some business. I'll be back later," he said, keeping his tone casual, though he could feel the tension building.

Shoko exchanged a glance with Mei Mei, then chimed in, "You know, Y/n, we were just discussing how you should join us for a little relaxation session. What do you say? A girls’ night with a side of Toji drama?"

Toji shot a glance at Gojo, who looked ready to burst from holding in laughter. "Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now," he said, his voice low, trying to keep the atmosphere light despite the storm brewing inside him.

Y/n’s brow furrowed slightly, sensing his unease. "What do you mean? You’re not coming back for the fun?"

"Just… got stuff to handle, you know?" Toji said, brushing it off. But he couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret at the thought of leaving her in the midst of this laid-back gathering.

Mei Mei leaned forward, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Come on, Toji. Live a little. You’re always so serious. Maybe just this once, you could join us."

"Yeah, let loose for once, Zenin," Gojo added, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "You might actually enjoy it."

Toji clenched his jaw, the weight of their words pressing down on him. He was torn between the temptation to stay and the urgency of the situation that awaited him outside.

Y/n looked up at him, her expression softening. "You can hang out for a bit, right? Just until things settle down?"

Toji's resolve wavered. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy this moment with her, but he could feel the pressures of his life creeping in, threatening to overshadow the blissful time they could share.

With a reluctant sigh, he finally relented. "Alright, just for a little while."

As he settled down on the floor next to Y/n, he felt the tension ease slightly, even if it was only temporary. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t just a fun night with friends; it was a delicate balancing act that could tip at any moment. And he had to be ready for whatever was coming next.

Previous Next

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 7

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

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.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

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 ❤️

The two weeks since you gave notice fly by. You’re almost buzzing with excitement. Once the day is through, you’re free. Well, free to finish packing and spend your last night in your apartment before your new chapter. 

The change couldn’t come at a better time. It’s best you get out of the city after your brush with danger. Back on the straight and narrow. For once, things are going according to plan. 

You’re barely focused on work. You have everything wrapped up and ready for the next poor soul. Brenner’s not bothered. He just sits at his desk, watching those videos that reflect in his framed certification. You try your best not to look. 

All you can think of is packing up at the rest of the day and never looking back. This new job is everything you ever wanted. And the interview was great. They seemed great and the culture was more than a slimy boss and elderly secretary knitting by the door. 

As if on cue, Geraldine squawks a greeting as the door open. You flinch and look over as she preens, “why hello, sir. Back again?” 

You don’t get too many walk-ins. You turn and your eyes bulge as Rogers lets the door close behind him. He wears a dark blue suit with a matching tie. His hair looks even longer than before, his beard thicker. It’s been barely a month but it feels like longer. 

You turn to your desk and click around your screen. Remember what he said. As far as you’re concerned, he’s a stranger. 

So why is he walking towards your desk. Brenner clears his throat and stands, his mouse bouncing off his keyboard as he scrambles. You swallow dryly and keep your head down. 

“Mr. Rogers, sir, what can we do for you this time?” 

“Got another job.” Rogers intones. 

“Sure, uh, we’re a bit short-handed but--” 

“Her,” Rogers stops beside your desk and taps the corner. “Come on.” 

You flinch and look up at him in dread. You frown. You’re confused. He told you to forget and you did your best to do just that. 

“Right, er,” you sniff and twine your fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “Happily, er, sir, but the thing is, it’s my last day. Tomorrow--” 

“I’m not asking. Come on.” 

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate. He sounds angry. You know what happens when he’s mad. The thought makes you light-headed. “Well, I’m moving out-of-town so--” 

“Get up,” he demands as he shifts towards you, reaching over your shoulder to grip the back of your chair. “Important work to do.” 

“Go on,” Brenner says, “help out Mr. Rogers.” 

Rogers’ icy blue eyes flick up to the other man and narrow. A warning. I don’t need your help. He pushes away from you and the chair rocks dangerously. Back to square one. Back to an angry dog bristling for a fight. 

“Sure, sure,” you show your palms then slowly pivot. 

You gather up your briefcase and check that all the drawers are empty. You wonder if maybe you’re taking so long but you really don’t want to come back here after whatever trouble this man has in store. You get up with your bag in hand. 

Rogers turns without a word and strides across the office. You follow. You catch up to him outside as he holds the door for you. As you try to keep pace with him, you muster all your courage. 

“I hope this is a short job, I have aa moving truck--” 

“I’m not negotiating.” 

“Alright,” you accept with a squeak. 

It’s all too familiar. There’s no explanation. Just blunt orders and tense silences. He opens the passenger door of his black car and you get in. He goes around the driver’s side and turns the engine. 

“Whatever job you took, won’t pay as much as this one so let’s stop with that,” he says. 

You blink. This can’t be happening. You had it all figured out. You’re done with criminals and Mr. Brenner and all of this. You frown. You feel his gaze in the mirror. He sighs. 

“We gotta go outta town. I need someone who can do numbers.” 

“Outta town?” You murmur. 

“Sounds like you’re already packed and ready to go, so we’ll drop by to grab some stuff and head off. No time to waste--” 

“What? I... but...” you stammer. 

You snap your mouth shut as you sense his roiling irritation. Oh, oh no. You know what this is. Too good to be true which means it’s all falling down around you. ‘Out of town?’ You know what that means. 

Your head bobbles as your breath burns in your chest. You grab at the door handle and whine, “please, don’t. Please, let me out. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, stop that,” he grabs your shoulder and pulls you back against the seat, steering with his other hand. “You’re going to get hurt--” 

“You’re going to hurt me?” You squeal and your eyes roll back into a fog. 

You feel the lurch of the car before you plunge fully into the darkness. It’s like blinking. You wake up against the seat. He’s still driving. You don’t recognise your surroundings. 

“No!” You erupt back into consciousness. “No! Why are you doing this? I promised! I didn’t talk to anyone, sir! I didn’t. I’m leaving town and--” 

“Calm down,” he grits over the wheel. 

“No! No! If you’re going to kill me, then I’m not going down easy,” you insist, “I’m going to--” 

The world turns gray again and you hit the door with a thunk. You sink again into your vacant mind. A shift in motion wakes you again. There’s music playing. 

“Am I dead yet?” You ask groggily. 

He scoffs, “what’s gotten into you? I told ya, we got a job.” 

“We? Job?” You sputter. “You know, I know what ‘out of town’ is. I watched The Godfather. Boring but they were streaming it...” 

“Huh? Godfather? No, no, look, I don’t kill people I can use,” he says plainly. 

“Oh... that’s not reassuring,” you utter. 

He lets out another long breath. Yours starts to pick up again. You brace the door. 

“Damnit, don’t you pass out again,” he demands. “I know you kept your promise. That’s why I chose you. This is an important job. Diplomatic. I can’t risk someone who might flip and I know you’re not going to do any of that. Because I know you don’t want to do any of this.” 

You consider his words. You clutch your head, “fair.” 

“Are you good? I got some water,” he points to the bottle in the plastic holder by the console. 

“I... I won’t...” you inhale deeply. “I just—you said we were done.” 

“Shit happens,” he shrugs. 

“And I’m just along for the ride,” you mumble. 

He snorts and shakes his head, “guess so.” 

[syndrossi]

In the Reversal AU, does Jon/Jeyne/Aemma look enough like Arya that he gets hit in the feels the first time he sees his reflection? Also I think he needs to name at least one sword/dagger Needle in honor of her. Lastly, how bad, and or surprisingly good, are Jon and Rhaegar at sewing/embroidery?

Oh, interesting question! I think a pure Jon-is-suddenly-a-girl-at-AGOT-Arya's-age would definitely look like her sister. With a little extra Daemon and Royce mixed in, it does "help" a little, so that he has to look a little harder to find the features he shares with Arya, but I like to think he still can. (It's not as dramatic as "Raymar looks like Dany", considering the two of them were sibling born of siblings, but if you're seeing yourself for the first time in a mirror, it's an obvious connection to seek/find.)

f!Jon 100% cheekily refers to her sword lessons with Daemon as "practicing her needlepoint"! 😂 I feel that both twins wouldn't have any great love for sewing and embroidery, feeling that there are far more valuable pursuits, given their upbringing the first time around. f!Rhaegar would much prefer to be doing something with dragons or reading a book. If she has to do a lady-like interest, it's going to be singing/the harp, which she already loves. One advantage of being a princess is that it's far more likely that someone else is making your gowns, so it's somewhat less "necessary" to learn it, vs the extra language lessons f!Rhaegar volunteers them for. (f!Jon is grumpy enough about having to learn Valyrian and now her sister wants to learn two more??? And additionally cheat because she'd learned them almost to the point of fluency before? And DANCING, Rhaella, really?)

Ultimately, I think they learn it to the point of bare minimum competence, since they both have their pride and like to excel, but that's one area where neither is a prodigy!

[koji-haru]

Swap AU Part: 13

It was another day of being by his lonesome, having successfully avoided both Lucifer and Lilith for most of the day. It wasn’t like he hated them or anything like that, he just couldn’t help but feel a burning envy at what they have whenever he saw either one of them. It didn’t help that somewhere deep inside him still somewhat resented Lucifer for his betrayal of Michael. He hated feeling those, hated knowing he could have these feelings, and so, he avoided them both just to avoid watering those negative emotions into growing bigger. Adam stared at his reflection on the lake’s surface, tinted slightly orange as the sun slowly sank lower towards the horizon. What was he to do now? He wasn’t particularly on board with the whole starting humanity thing anymore…

As if on cue, a gentle voice called out to him. “Hello, Adam.”

Adam looked up from his reflection and saw the being he really didn’t want to see for a while, or ever. 

“What are you doing here by yourself? Where’s Lilith?,” asked Sera as she made her way towards the first man, her beautiful lilac dress softly trailing behind her. 

Adam didn’t respond, even as she sat beside him, keeping his gaze back down on his wavy reflection on the water. 

“Adam?” Sera placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her brows furrowed in visible concern. 

“I wanted to be alone,” he finally responded, though he didn’t raise his gaze.

Oh dear, that didn’t sound so good. Sera gave the humans in the garden some time to settle amongst themselves as Lucifer had suggested a few days prior. However, seeing Adam like this and Lilith not being present told her that clearly time by itself wasn’t enough. 

“Adam,” she sighed. “You shouldn’t avoid Lilith like that.”

“I don’t want Lilith. I want…,” he argued, his voice trembling slightly. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, not wishing to spill anymore tears. 

“You know that’s not possible,” Sera reminded him. “You are the first man, and you have a duty given to you by our Father. It’s best if you move on.”

No response. It seemed that Adam had gone back to staring at his reflection on the water, clearly not wanting to accept Sera’s words. Eventually, Sera stood back up, one hand softly patting Adam’s head. 

“Well, I must head back now.” She looked down at the human sitting on the rock beside her. She remembered when he used to beam with excitement during the rare times she did visit the garden. Now, he refused to even look at her. But that was alright, young souls tended to be unable to see the bigger picture and what was best for them. He just needed some help, a little push, and hopefully things would go back on track, as it always should’ve been. “Take care of yourself, Adam.” And with a shimmer of gentle light that slowly faded into nothing, Adam was alone once more. 

A dark blue hue had already covered the sky by the time Adam had returned to his cave, all nice and dark and…gloomy. He stood there by the entrance letting its cold emptiness fully sink into him before dragging himself inside and flopping on his bed made of leaves, allowing today’s exhaustion to spill out of him. His muscles felt stiff and tense, his bones heavy; he hadn’t done much today, as he had been in the last few days, but Sera’s presence and their conversation drained whatever energy he still had away. Even from where he currently was, Adam could still see the stars glistening in the dark sky as if they were peeking inside to cheer him up. They kind of reminded him of Michael and the little stars that were scattered between his eyes and cheeks; golden and pretty, a warmth in the cold air. The little light that managed to reach into the cave and onto his face somehow felt soothing, almost like a lover’s soft kiss. And with that thought, Adam let the night welcome him into dreams. 

In contrast to how peaceful he felt as he fell into sleep, Adam’s night time rest didn’t feel all that, well, restful. He felt like he should be in pain, but he was not. It felt like there was something probing inside him, searching carefully for something, one by one as if considering their many options. And then something disconnected. The unwelcome probing stopped, and yet now there was this ache of missing something – as if he lost a part of him. Adam wanted to wake up, he could feel his consciousness trying to grasp out of the mud he was trapped in, and yet his body wouldn’t listen, still entrenched in deep sleep. Soon, panic arrived in small but unending waves, piling its debris on top of each other, allowing it to grow taller and taller, wobbling unsteadily until eventually a strong gust of wind sent it crashing down.

Adam bolted upright, gasping desperately for air as a slight pain blossomed around his chest. Faint yellow rays invaded the cave, slowly brightening the space up; the air was still slightly cool and the birds were more than halfway done with their morning songs. Adam placed a hand over his chest, his heart still beating rapidly from the odd sensation he felt during the night. With slow deep breaths, he eventually managed to calm his heart down, the panic that built up slowly being washed away. But then he was fully awake now, fully aware of what and where he was once more, and the loneliness that came with it. 

Just as he was about to sink back into his bed and waste the day away as he usually did, a shadow crossed his features, quickly getting bigger until it covered him entirely. There, in front of him, stood a woman, human just like him. It would be odd for Lilith to suddenly enter his own space, especially this early in the morning, but this was even more odd. The human in front of him was a woman alright, but Adam was definitely sure it wasn’t Lilith. For one, Lilith had long flowing blonde hair, this one had shorter, but still long red locks in thick waves; Two, Lilith had sharp looking amethyst eyes and milky white skin, this one had round, soft blue eyes and a sun kissed complexion similar to Adam’s. 

“Who–?”

“Oh! You’re finally awake!,” the woman said, her voice sweet and lively. “Hello Adam! I’m Eve, the second woman and your new wife!”

A weird high pitched sound buzzed inside Adam’s head as he simply sat there speechless, bemused by what he just heard and saw. Was he still asleep? Was dreaming still? He rubbed his eyes and when Eve remained standing in front of him, he rubbed them again and again and again. Eventually, he ended up needing to stop when his eyes hurt too much and Eve still remained where she stood. 

“Um…,” Eve uttered, unsure what to make of Adam’s behaviour. So instead, she revealed the basket she had been hiding behind her back and showed it to Adam. “I got us breakfast!” Shoved in front of Adam was a basket filled with fruits ranging from small berries to medium sized honeydew melons, all looking ripe and freshly picked. “I wasn’t sure which ones were your favourite so I just got everything I could,” she explained.

“W-wait, I don’t…,” Adam stammered, unable to properly express the cloud of confusion in his mind. He pushed the basket away from him and glanced back towards Eve. She was definitely a brand new human. “Since when? I mean, I’ve never seen you before.”

“I was made just this morning,” Eve smiled at him, placing the fruit basket on the ground as she took a seat at the edge of the bed. “I was told to love and care for you, and that your heart is in pain right now.” She grabbed both of Adam’s hands and held them warmly between hers. “But don’t worry! I promise to help you get better!”

Her smile was dazzling, it had a freshness and purity to it like fresh morning dew glistening under early morning rays. She had a presence that was freeing as it was captivating. In another life, Adam would’ve instantly fallen for such beauty, loving her for eternity with all of his heart. But his heart already belonged to another, entangled deeply in vines and he was more than content to keep his heart there. 

“I…I’m sorry Eve.” Adam slowly peeled Eve’s warm hands from his own. “But I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

—-

Specks of bright light were peppered along Lilith’s long hair making its golden colour seem to shine ever brighter. Her pace was leisurely, though each step carried a purpose. She was looking for Adam, her other companion in this enclosed space she had to call her home. While Adam’s avoidance of both her and Lucifer hadn’t escaped her notice, she needed to find him and talk to him about keeping up appearances at the very least. Tales from Heaven she had received from her chosen husband, Lucifer, didn’t appear to bode well for either of them. They needed to form some sort of plan. 

Lilith continued her search throughout the garden; along the beach where little crabs burrowed themselves under the sand; across a meadow where butterflies fluttered alongside her; pass the safari where the golden fields swayed to the same rhythm as her hair; even by the lake that the first man often frequented to simply sit in silence. Everywhere she looked was devoid of the presence of the first man. For an enclosed space, the garden of Eden was vast and seemingly ever expanding, especially whenever she was out on an ‘adventure’. Eventually, she found herself back inside a forest, the canopy providing her plenty of shelter from the warm rays of the afternoon sun. As she continued her walk across the lush forest, the sound of water rushing over rocks, dragging pebbles and twigs along with them, got louder and clearer. But what really caught her attention was the sound of voices from where the stream seemed to be. Yes, voices, a pair of voices to be precise; one masculine – that sounded very much like the first man, the other higher in pitch and feminine and very unfamiliar to Lilith. 

Who could that be? 

With intense curiosity guiding her steps, Lilith made her way towards the pair of voices. Once she passed the treeline, the bright momentarily blinding her, with a hand raised to block out the sun, Lilith was greeted by the sight of…two humans? One was most definitely Adam, who seemed to be explaining something to the other human beside him. This other human resembled Lilith more than it did Adam, though the differences between them was stark. For instance, from what Lilith could judge from where she currently stood, this other human was shorter than her, and while its figure was of a similar to hers, its curves meandered much more than hers, and it had long bright red locks that flowed in thick waves from its head. Lilith made her way towards the pair, her steps light and quiet as she focused her attention in examining this new human in front of her. The closer she got, and the clearer the features of this new human became, it became apparent to her what this new human was. 

“Oh!,” the new human squeaked in pleasant surprise, its big round blues suddenly focused at the new presence approaching. 

Adam turned to look at what new other thing had caught her attention, “Oh, Lilith. This is–”

The new human quickly got up from where it sat beside Adam, excitedly making its way towards Lilith, the light of the day shimmering brightly on its eyes, a perfect smile on its plush lips, sweet like strawberries. 

“Hi!,” it grabbed Lilith’s hands, its warmth spreading to Lilith’s own cool temperature. “I’m called Eve! And I’m–”

“A new woman,” Lilith uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Part 12

Part 14

[captain-gillian]

sending all the love and solidarity from aus this WIP wednesday <3 here's a little bit of nancymarjan wip, if anyone wants it. tags under the cut

“Let me help?” She asks, holding the brush out with a wide-eyed imploring expression that has Nancy’s stomach swirling with butterflies.

“Okay,” Nancy relents, she hates having to rely on others like this, but how could she say no to a face like that? This is something friends do for each other, they can still take things slow.

The shorter woman kneels behind her on the bed to reach, carefully brushing through Nancy’s hair, detangling it with ease and then methodically parting it down the centre. Soft fingertips brush ever so gently across Nancy’s scalp as Marjan’s deft fingers section her hair before braiding it into two simple French braids. When Marjan secures the second braid with an elastic she moves back in front of Nancy, grabbing a compact mirror from her purse, holding it out to Nancy so she could see herself, curtsying dramatically and exclaiming, in an exaggerated French accent, “Et voila.”

Nancy could cry in relief as she sees herself reflected back in the small mirror; just the simple act of getting her hair out of her face has her feeling more like herself than she’s felt in days, and she’s starting to look like herself again too

thank you for the tags: @carlossreaders @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses

@nisbanisba @reyesstrand @welcometololaland @emsprovisions

open tag + no pressure tags for:  @nancys-braids @pelorsdyke @carlos-tk @rmd-writes @ironheartwriter

@literateowl @eclectic-sassycoweyes @irispurpurea @fifthrideroftheapocalypse  @sugdenlovesdingle

@tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet @firstprince-history-huh @sapphic–kiwi @lightningboltreader

sorry if anyone tagged has already done this today and I missed it and also thank you and sorry to everyone who's tagged me in recent weeks that i've not gotten to sharing, life has been a lot but i'm hopefully back now

[dykedvonte]

i think you and also me see a lot of "what if anya kills jimmy" au fanworks

for you do you wish that concept get explored more like how they deal with jimmy's corpse and the critical understaffing and curly has to do both job of being the captain and autopilot or just fine and simple as it is?

I am gonna actually deal with it in the fic because my only gripe with these sort of aus is that they only seem viable after the crash?

Like I understand wanting justice for Anya or wanting Jimmy to be stopped early but it’s just not in anyone’s character at that point. Like she would protect herself but she’s not going to hunt him. As much as we like to joke that the others would condone it they wouldn’t, not that early. It’s part of their inaction and the commentary. As for the dislike I think they should put him in the cryo-pod. It would be poignant that he’s preserved, the only one who had to use the pods and it’s job is null and void. Him freezing and already being dead is so parallel to Curly burning and somehow living.

In cases I do think about it I feel like it would such an interesting turn of events. Like imagine the game but set from the events of Anya having to be in forced lock up. She’s confined to medical and Curly regularly visits her. She killed Jimmy and it opens making you believe she dangerous. It slowly shows how the crew treat her kindly and with understanding. Talk about her as a good nurse even tho Curly is feeling guilt that Jimmy has died. Most of his hallucinations are of Jimmy, flash backs to the same scenes but longer, perspectives we don’t see. It stops before the crash, Anya in medical telling Jimmy and the shot. Curly has to decide if he turns in Anya or creates a cover story. The Captain in him says he must follow procedure but the person he is feels the guilt he let it come to this. Not doing more to stop it. Stop him. I think he’s sits on the feelings he’s not upset with Anya in the slightest.

I think it’s so interesting that Anya is both in the place of Jimmy and Curly post crash but inverted in this scenario. Confined but slaps free, guilty but she is not haunted by it, quite the opposite. I think her thoughts would very introspective and reflective. She’s still concerned about the baby but a lot of that dread was also factoring in Jimmy’s danger.

[soheeunderthesun]

~𐙚⋆° — WIP

You adore her. You really do. She's the best person you've ever met. Kind, loyal, smart, everything you wanted to be. So why, why can't you stop thinking about her ex? Scratch that. What the hell are you doing alone in the bathroom with him at a party, knowing she’s downstairs drowning her sorrows in cheap liquor at the thought of him? 

You should be down there with her, comforting her, protecting her. Instead, here you are at the last place you should be.

You adore your best friend. You know what she deserves and what you're doing right now... is the last thing she deserves.

~~𐙚⋆° pairing — best friend's ex!eunseok x female reader

~~~𐙚⋆° features — Shotaro and Seunghan of RIIZE, Aeri of aespa and Kazuha of le sserafim.

~~~~𐙚⋆° genre — college au and forbidden love and angsty

~~~~~𐙚⋆° warning — cursing, suggestive, smut, moral ambiguity, and toxic behaviour by both main characters.

!AUTHORS NOTE! — My FIRST FIC ASDFTFBJFMTD 😭😭

This work is a work of fiction and is NOT intended to reflect the real-life personalities or actions of the individuals portrayed. This is for entertainment purposes only!

This is a work in progress… Im more than halfway done YAY!

ATTENTION! There is NO date on when this will be published. Deadlines makes me go crazy and even more stressed, and I like to be thorough with my works. This just is a lil something something, i wanted to post. Perhaps Its called a teaser 😌

So if you dont wanna miss out I’d recommend you follow and turn on your notifications!!

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My asks are currently open, so feel free if you have any questions to ask hihi :)

Thank you for your patience, I love you 😘

[sonofhelios2005]

Dead Boy Detectives AU, Cambion Charles. In this AU, Charles is half demon. Charles demonic parent is one of the demons who embody or are associated with Wrath, such as Andras, Aamon, and Aeshma, one of these possessed Charles dad before his birth. As to why a demon would sire a Cambion? Having a loyal demonic being on Earth to cause chaos and pain in their name, help condemn humans to hell and generally be an inconvenience.

As no two demons look similar, no two Cambion are identical. Some look entirely human whilst others are monstrous. Some are powerful magic users like Merlin, and others are predators who prey on humanity. Cambion are generally evil thanks to their demonic heritage, but certain Cambion can fight this part of themselves and are as normal as any human.

Charles is lucky for a Cambion as he was born looking entirely human however as he got older he discovered the more demonic part of himself, by his teenage years he was able to turn into a monstrous demonic form at will, although he never does this willingly unless he loses control of his emotions. He keeps a strong grip on any negative emotions as his demonic half is very prone towards violence, and because of this, he strives to be happy. Even when he looks human, certain things can give Charles away as inhuman. He is uncomfortable around religious iconography, and they will respond to his presence. His reflection can some show his inhuman side. Psychics are very sensitive to his presence.

Charles is incredibly strong and resilient and has nearly limitless endurance. He can wield fire and teleport in a flash of hell fire. Charles can grow stronger by feeding on negative, violent emotions, and if he wants, can sense an influence them to be on humans. He is immortal, and even if he's killed, he will simply end up in hell. He takes on his demonic form in hell. He is very capable of demonic magic but doesn't really have the patients for it besides the occasional spell and rune. He doesn't sleep and is unable to dream. He possesses the standard demonic weaknesses. However, he can't be exorcised, although they cause him immense pain.

Charles dad figured out something was wrong with Charles when he was a child thanks to some unnatural incidents, thinking him a monster he hurts him with crosses and by reciting passages from the bible, on some awful occasions he whipped Charles with cold iron. Over the years, Charles grew resistant to this, and after he throws his dad across a room, he is sent away to St. Hilarion's. At St. Hilarion Charles is able to make friends and have a somewhat normal time without anyone suspecting anything about him. Despite this, he still feels alone.

Charles doesn't sleep. However, he can astral project which he does sometimes and explorers as a spirit. During one of these times, his spirit is grabbed and taken to hell by his demonic parent, who Charles has only met on a few rare occasions. Whilst in hell Charles is forced to participate in the torment of souls in the Circle of Wrath, time passes differently in hell so while Charles body is seemingly comatose for a month on Earth he spent a decade in hell. After 10 years, Charles meets another boy, Edwin. Edwin is trying to escape, and after they both explain their situations, they agree to help each other. Charles holds off the demon spider whilst Edwin escapes. On Earth, Edwin is able to wake Charles and bring his spirit back to his body.

On Earth, Edwin to Charles delight is entirely unconcerned by Charles being a Cambion, allowing Charles to be himself for the first time. Edwin is not a normal ghost his soul forged in hell by decades of torment is incredibly strong and can use magic on a scale beyond any other ghost. He can draw power from hell and, if essential, a Ghost Sorcerer. Charles and Edwin began exploring the supernatural world together and soon became detectives who specialised in hell related issues.

My god, I can ramble about stuff. This won't be a story it's just my mad rambling that has gotten seriously out of hand.

[xx-slug-xx]

I’m not really into Mouthwashing either, BUT!

I honestly took it as people making fun of the rapist character more than anything else. Like, I’m sure there are people who censor his name bc they truly think it’s bad to say (which isn’t cool), but tbh, most of what I’ve seen is people making a joke more than anything else. Tbh, I think it IS funny.

But also, say his name because Mouthwashing paints a very serious picture of how horrifying rape is and rapists’ names shouldn’t be censored, not because you respect them, but because it’s a warning to others and so they can’t hide. I think the Mouthwashing fandom as a whole needs to understand the message of that part of the story is, because you also have the whole “Anya keeps the rape baby in my au” thing that’s happening. Like, to each their own, do what you want, but it can be alarming when media literacy is this far down the garbage shoot at a time when womens’ rights are being striped that their idea of a “fix it au” or “good ending au” is someone keeping their rape baby. The problem isn’t the au’s contents, it’s the fact that these people see this as a good outcome (bc someone choosing to not be pregnant isn’t good for some reason? Agency over one’s self and getting rid of something you didn’t ask for is objectively good lol)

Idk, I just feel like the Mouthwashing fandom doesn’t understand their own game sometimes. And to be clear, I have no problems since it’s all fiction anyway, but what they do with this fiction is sort of reflective of these folks actual opinions considering I’ve seen a TON of posts from people saying that its bad that Anya didn’t keep the fetus she was forced to carry. It’s one thing to depict in fiction and have fun with dolls and alternate stories, it’s another thing to actively say you don’t support women’s rights in a less direct way smh. The fandoms priorities seem skewed is what I’m saying. Hate the rapist but make the victim keep the child? It’s odd is all.

I am NOT into Mouthwashing by any means but apparently some of the fanbase is censoring out Jimmy's name like it's a slur??????? Like he's an evil character no shit but acting like it's a no no word like we're in fucking fifth grade is so stupid.

[thedo0zyslider]

Ok so I mentioned my old gem au in this post and figured, why not share some of the notes I have. Though they are from a year ago....

(@pastelfools helped me brainstorm and bounced ideas around with me!!)

The au might get more development after this, or it might not, we'll see.

Scar is some kinda of quartz soldier. Thats where the scars came from, plus accidents he gets himself into. (His gem is also really scuffed up and has probably almost been cracked before.) Depsite being made for combat, he's really into building and designing things. And being so strong and bulky certainly helps with that!

I made Joel some sort of corrupted gem monster. But don't ask me how the corrupting light works/happened here I never got that far. (He might be a nephrite...)

Xornorth is also here and also corrupted bc I love xornorth and. What is Scott without his boyfriend or brother related angst

Didn't decide on Jimmy’s gem, but he's definitely low ranking

So Jimmy actually WATCHED Joel get corrupted him and he couldn't do anything. He's very desperate to get him back and also feels guilty about just...sitting there.

Jizzie is real in the au. Live laugh love Jizzie.

Lizzie is also trying to get her corrupted boyfriend back. She misses him :[ (her and Jimmy r found family btw!!)

Joel has enough sanity? To recognize jimmy and lizzie can not attack them. Everyone else is fair game tho

Pearlescentmoon is Not A Pearl, even if it would've been an easy choice for me. I dont think a pearl really fits....any of her characters? The pearls we see in the show certainly don't. I actually wrote down that she might be a copper, since this au was made when new life was airing. (If bismuth, a non gem irl, can be a canon character so can copper okay....). I might change it though..

I think I also had ren as some corrupted gem. And ya know martyns on his whole loyalty "I have to uncorrupt my favorite guy" thing

I think Martyn, Jimmy, BigB, Pearl and Grian were all made on the same planet (evo planet)

idea I had while writing this: I could like. Put some of them in the human zoo lol (<- watching SU season 4 while typing this)

Mumbo was a fusion and then they shattered his other half. Lmao get fucked.

Etho is a zircon. And he also got exiled for some reason.

Oli would probably be a spinel

I had a note about Jimmy get corrupted GSFWFS

[rendevok]

Act II ~ The Challenge

A tapestry for chapter 2 of Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 41

Hear me out, DP and DC crossover where Scarecrow is cousins with the Fentons. 

 His mother was siblings with Jack’s father, and both Jazz and Danny met ‘Uncle Jonathan’ during one of the many Fenton-Nightingale family reunions that happens every few years. Honestly, perhaps it’s what gets Jazz interested in psychology, hearing from her ‘uncle’ about fear and its effects.

 And honestly once they start having to deal with ghosts and having had to deal with their parents for years it’s not really hard to talk with their uncle. Crane still doesn’t know how he became these kids’ favorite uncle, or even all of the family kids’ favorite uncle-cousin, but that’s just how the family is. 

 Really he’s not even the only villain of the family, with both Jack and Maddie being close but not quite, even if they’re definitely mad scientists. Their son becoming a local hero, even if they’re not aware of that fact, is just ironic. 

 John knows. The two kids told him when they found out that Danny may or may not need to feed on fear now that he’s half ghost, and well he’s the specialist about the emotion so…

 At least they have someone to stay with when Jazz goes to Gotham university and brings Danny with her, even if the local vigilantes are concerned as to why Scarecrow attacks have suddenly took a nosedive…

[chocostrwberry]

Felix’s Nightmares…