#But the fact that they have the same nose too...

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star- chap four preview

Preview for the coming chapter- est some time this weekend <3

Pairings- Pornstar! Satoru x shy/demi f!reader

Warnings - Mentions of sex, teasing you at work, Satoru being a JEALOUS lil mf, obsessed w/you - lots of tension, prepare for the mess aha

“You’re very quiet, sweetheart, what’s on that smart mind of yours?” You look back over, his hand is back on your knee, he’s tilting his head just a bit, heartbreakingly handsome face watching you.

“Sorry just a lot of thoughts in my head today, also I am a pretty quiet person at work especially,” you put a hand on his, squeezing gently and earning a quirk of his pouty lips. “With you I’m a little more open than usual.”

“I like that, you opening for me,” his murmur is too fucking seductive, and you’re sure he knows it as he studies the color dancing across your cheeks. “You open up so good for me too.”

“Do I?” His words are met with fingers slipping up between your thighs, you bite back a gasp as he touches you over the already damp cotton of your panties, thighs trapping his hand there involuntarily.

“Mmhmm, you’re a good girl, just look at you,” his words are like silky, snowy lashes low over dilated eyes as he sighs just a bit, feeling your slick coat his fingertips. “Did she miss me already?”

“Did you miss me?” Your counter question makes him pause because fuck he missed you - but it terrifies him that it’s not just the sexual need, the desire, it’s so much more than that.

He did miss you in just a few days, your smile and your scent, your sweet little giggle and the way you pressed your glasses up your nose. The very energy near him that emanates from you, the way you look up at him like that, the way he feels near you. He craves it like no drug he’s ever tried, your taste and the way your skin feels, the cute little sighs you make.

He’s fighting the inevitable fact that you’ve already sunk deep, that he’s becoming obsessed with you, and he’s not sure you feel the same. Clearly you enjoy him too, but you’re no where near his level, you’re not looking his workplace up and finding him like he just did, no Satoru doesn’t even know what the fuck in possessing him lately.

All he knows is he needs you around him, near him, on him…

Wants to bury inside you but that’s not even enough.

A quiet knock sounds on the door as Nanami walks in with a silver tablet, smiling as he walks inside, barely acknowledging Satoru then. “Hey darling,"- Hey Darling - he's gonna hey darling his fucking face - "Could you check this one for me, I’d love your opinion.”

“Of course I can.” Satoru’s hand falls and his fists clench at his sides, as you lean over the desk, and your breasts spill just a bit from your neckline, he sees the hazel eyes darting down and up quickly, wanting to smack him for even looking at you. “Oh Kento, it’s so good!”

“Kento?” Satoru asks softly, and Nanami clears his throat, smiling over at him like an annoyance.

“That’s my first name,” he says, Satoru glares over at you now, and you tilt your head curiously. “Something wrong?”

You call him Kento.

Satoru does not like that.

“No, no, sorry, go ahead sweetheart, I’ll wait.” He purrs those words, winking up at you, scrolling back through his phone, zooming right in on the picture he took, his favorite, where you have cum painted all over your ass and pussy.

Kento would never fucking have that from his darling.

“Your designs are so good,” he says, shoulder to shoulder with you now as the two of you peer at some of your work. “You need to give me a little advice.”

“What, no you’re so good at everything! You’re just being sweet,” your teasing giggle infuriates him, he wants to snatch you up and show who the fuck you are under, who gets to be inside you - but he holds it in.

It’s absurd.

He’s being so stupid and the worst part is he knows, but when Nanami’s big hand brushes against your back, leaning closer and murmuring something, it takes everything in him not to crash the fuck out. He tries to remember what you two are - but what the fuck even are you both?

You’d probably want someone like this Kento dude, wouldn’t you? You’d want someone with a career like yours, who clearly wants something serious, some ‘gentleman’ or so he seems. Even though Satoru is pretty fucking sure dude is not a gentleman, judging by the way his fingertips slip down your spine before his hand falls finally.

That’s when Satoru realizes he’s been holding his fucking breath.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He asks then, and Satoru’s stomach twists in knots as he watches you, shifting a bit, your weight on one foot, you look at him for a moment, eyes unreadable.

Say something, Satoru.

More jealousy and pining and more of them being IDIOTS, I hope you didn't think we were anywhere close to a resolution LMAO <3

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[luvbabydoll]

Idk if i should put requests here but could you please do inexperienced reader giving simon a blowjob for the first time and accidentally using too much teeth so now he has to teach her how to give bjs 😩😩

a/n: UGH!!! he’s so hot i need him !!!! this got me out of my cod writers block

you’re kneeling between simon’s legs, heart pounding, hands fumbling nervously as you look up at him. his mask is off, those sharp hazel eyes locked on you, a mix of patience and something darker flickering in them. your lips are still tingling from the clumsy attempt you just made, and the slight wince he let slip—barely audible, but enough to make you freeze and it has your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“too much teeth, love,” he says, voice low and rough with that thick mancunian drawl, a hint of amusement curling at the edges. he’s sprawled back on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other resting on his thigh, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to guide you himself. “gonna have to ease up a bit, yeah?”

you nod, swallowing hard, your throat tight with nerves. “sorry,” you mumble, barely meeting his gaze. your hands hover awkwardly, not sure where to start again.

“nowt to be sorry for,” he says, leaning forward slightly, his voice softening just a touch. “just need a bit of practice, that’s all. c’mere.” he crooks a finger, motioning you closer. you shuffle forward, and he reaches out, calloused thumb brushing your bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “open up. slow-like. let’s start there.”

you do as he says, parting your lips, and he guides you with that same steady hand, his touch firm but not forceful. “right, now mind your teeth. keep ‘em tucked back—use your lips, yeah? like you’re kissin’ it.” his voice is a low rumble, matter-of-fact but laced with something that makes your stomach flip.

he shifts, guiding your head down gently, his fingers threading through your hair. “start slow,” he instructs, eyes never leaving you. “just the tip first. tongue’s your mate here—swirl it, soft-like. don’t rush.”

you follow his lead, tentative at first, your tongue flicking out to trace him. his breath hitches, a faint “fuck” slipping out under his breath, and it spurs you on. you try to mimic what he’s described, keeping your teeth well out of the way, letting your lips glide over him. it’s awkward, uncoordinated, but you’re trying, and he notices.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, voice thicker now, his grip in your hair tightening just a fraction. “good girl. now take a bit more—easy, don’t force it. breathe through your nose.”

you do your best, inching down slowly, your jaw straining as you focus on keeping it smooth. his low groan tells you you’re doing something right, but then your teeth graze him again—just a faint scrape—and he hisses, tugging your hair lightly to pull you back.

“oi, teeth again,” he says, but there’s no real bite to his tone, just a gruff chuckle. “you’re eager, i’ll give ya that. c’mon, let’s try it another way.” he shifts, sitting up straighter, and pats his thigh. “rest your hands here. keeps you steady.”

you place your palms on his thighs, the muscle solid under your touch, and he nods approvingly. “right. now focus on the rhythm. up and down, slow and steady. use your hand for what your mouth can’t reach—twist it a bit, like this.” he wraps his own hand over yours, guiding it in a slow, twisting motion that makes him curse softly again.

you try again, combining everything he’s told you—lips soft, tongue teasing, hand moving in time with your mouth. it’s still messy, your inexperience obvious, but simon’s not complaining. his head tips back slightly, jaw tight, and the low, gravelly “fuck, that’s better” he lets out feels like a victory.

“keep goin’,” he says, voice dropping an octave, his hand in your hair more guiding than controlling now. “you’ll get the hang of it. just listen to what i’m tellin’ ya, and you’ll have me beggin’ in no time.”

you glance up at him, catching the way his eyes are half-lidded, lips parted just enough to show a flash of teeth. it’s enough to make you double your efforts, determined to prove you can learn. and with simon’s low, steady instructions filling the air, you’re starting to think you just might.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a hotel room. l Harry Castillo

Summary:  an evening at a bar with a stranger

Warnings: smut (+18), some alcohol, kissing, talking about spouses, fingering, sexual tension (I hope)

A/N: something like that.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist]

You really liked the dress. The cut was perfect for your figure, the material was soft and comfortable, and the color brought out your eyes. You looked really good and felt even better. The hair and makeup were perfect too. Nothing spectacular, but they made you happy to look at your reflection as you walked down the hallway lined with large, ornate mirrors. 

The restaurant was connected to a nice bar, and that's where you sat on one of the taller chairs right next to the gleaming oak bar. The young and handsome bartender appeared a second later and after a moment he put the ordered drink in front of you. You liked such places. Beautiful and tasteful, they made you feel special. However, you couldn't hide the fact that it took you some time to get used to this luxury. 

You had been struggling with the feeling that you didn't deserve it and that you weren't "that kind of person". You looked at the guests, trying to guess what they did for a living - lawyers, businessmen, jewelers, owners of properties in the most expensive places in New York. The cream of the crop. You took a sip of your drink and adjusted your dress with your hand.

You sensed him before you saw him. A moment of your distraction caused him to enter the bar through one of the side entrances, and his eyes found you immediately. Hands shoved into the pockets of his elegant trousers, shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a patch of golden skin and a neck that was worth sinking your lips or teeth into, depending on your mood. He looked like he owned the place.

His dark, curly hair was tamed, but begged to be brushed, tugged, or simply played with. His prominent nose made him look like one of those antique busts you once saw in a museum. And those eyes. Brown, almost black at times, the kind you could fall into like a well.

He walked up to you with a confident step and after a moment he sat down in the chair next to you. He nodded to the bartender, who after a moment poured him a glass of whiskey. He twirled the glass in his long fingers for a moment to take a sip and set it down with a quiet clink.

"You know..." his voice was warm and low. The sound of it made every string in you tremble "I know it sounds cheesy, but you're the most phenomenal woman in this place."

You smiled. "Yeah, it sounds cheesy. But it suits you."

He raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised by your comment, but the corners of his mouth did the same. “I thought I still had something in me.”

“You got it. It’s sweet and romantic.” You replied, resting your chin on your hand and looking at him.

"So..." he began, turning almost fully towards you, "Do you often come here alone?"

He noticed the tip of your tongue as you slightly moistened your lips. This small gesture seemed extremely enticing to him.

"No." you replied, "But my husband likes to come here. With me or friends. And you?" you raised an eyebrow, letting him know that you needed to call him something.

"Harry." he said, and you quietly repeated his name, feeling how light it sounded in your mouth. Simple, classic. "I come here sometimes. With my wife. But lately we haven't had much time for such pleasures."

"Is she here today?" you asked, looking around the room and wondering which of these beautiful women would be the best match for Harry.

"You are, that's enough."

Your smile delighted him, absorbed him. You were all glowing with subtle feminine beauty. Delicate, but also sexy. Harry was sure that if he hadn't appeared in this bar, someone else would have definitely appeared next to you, you drew attention to yourself.

He couldn't stand this thought. He felt how much he wanted you, although maybe it was crazy, because he sat here with you for a few minutes, exchanged a few words, he didn't even finish his drink.

You didn't protest when his hand rested on your knee. Harry's gestures were subtle and measured. As if he knew exactly where he should touch, what he should say to draw you even closer to him. You were sure that if it wasn't for the fact that you were in a public place, you would have thrown yourself at each other right at the bar.

“I have a room upstairs. If you want.” You said, watching as he took your hand and then pulled it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. Your heart fluttered. With the kiss, a hot feeling spread throughout your body through your nervous system.

“Are you sure, love?” he murmured. You bit your lip.

Fuck. You wanted him so bad. You nodded and whispered a quiet “Yes,” which worked like a charm.

His hand on your back as you walked together towards the elevators at the end of the hall. You were sure that if someone could read your mind and see the images that were appearing in your head, they would definitely stop you. Some strange fog covered your brain and you couldn’t think of anything else but the feeling of Harry’s solid body on top of you, underneath you, under your fingers.

There were no limits or restrictions. When the elevator doors closed behind you and you pressed the button, you realized that your legs were almost numb. You didn't have time to say a word.

Harry was already behind you. His hands were resting on your hips, fingers digging lightly into your flesh. Hot breath brushed against your neck, and then you felt his lips press against it.

"Someone might come in here." You panted, but it was pointless. You didn't care, and Harry was so close that you could feel the bulge in his pants pressing into your buttocks.

Damn. The pool in your panties was already unbearable, your walls were tightening slightly around nothing, and your body was slowly starting to get irritated. Finally, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. You grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him down the long hallway towards the room. If it weren't for the heels, you probably would have run the whole way.

You quickly pulled the card out of your purse and ran inside. The door slammed shut and you could already feel Harry pressing you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours in a hard kiss. Without hesitation, he slid his tongue between your lips and you moaned.

God! He loved it. Hands greedily gripped your thighs, pushing your dress higher as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Is this all for me?” he asked playfully, running his hand over your already ruined panties. “If I had known you were in so much pain, we would have been here a long time ago.”

“You’re awful.” You smiled but then moaned, the friction of his fingers a welcome relief to your body. Harry kissed your neck and collarbone as his nimble fingers pushed your panties aside and slid inside you with unbelievably embarrassing ease. If it weren't for the wall behind you and Harry in front of you, you would have slumped to the ground.

“Yes, I can feel it, baby. She's greedy, isn't she? So hungry…” Harry's low voice filled you, and his fingers moved inside you, in and out, with such precision that you were sure you were about to come. “I'll do so many things to you, you'll be delighted. Come on, baby... I want to taste you later. Will you let me?”

You nodded so vigorously that Harry burst out laughing. He kissed you again, drinking in a deep moan from your lips.

When you tightened your fingers on his shoulders, digging your nails into him, he knew you were close. The orgasm hit you like a wave. Your thighs clenched, trapping his hand, as if to feel even more, even stronger.

“Good girl.” Harry praised you. “So beautiful, so hungry.”

It took you a moment to regain your senses, but Harry had time. You had a long evening ahead of you, there was no rush.

Finally, you looked at him more consciously, although your eyes still seemed a little blurry to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“More than okay,” you replied. “I want more.”

“Oh, really?”

Harry hissed as your hand found his hard bulge and squeezed it lightly. You were his death, the most beautiful of them all.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “Every day I missed you.”

“It was only a few days.” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But it’s so sweet. Not many husbands miss their wives this much.”

“Their loss. But mine is the most beautiful, the sexiest, the smartest…”

“Harry! You’re a gem, but I already married you, you don’t have to flatter me like that.”

“I will! Every day.” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Come on, I have many ideas on how to spend this evening with you, and one of them is your legs on my shoulders.” 

You burst out laughing. How could you refuse such a good offer?

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[cosmoszyn]

thinking about prince!zayne who is regarded as the highest scholar of the academy, contributing miles and miles of favorable studies in the medical field of the kingdom despite being a mere student, insofar as mentors acknowledging his wisdom and graces.

except for you.

it was a known fact that when the two of you were placed in the same classroom together in the academy, debates would occur. the back and forth would last for hours, despite the protests from your fellow students. unfortunately for them, the mentors would find your arguments rather amusing and would even pose several questions to trigger even more dispute between the two of you.

however, for zayne, arguing with you felt too troublesome. your stubbornness allowed you to never concede nor recognize his opinions. while you, on the other hand, refuse to let him feel that he has the leverage over you.

due to the heated discussions being the talk of the academy, the news was delivered to the elder.

leading you to your current predicament.

"i demand that you sleep on the floor."

"i refuse. i will never let your royal status get in the way of my nightly comfort and rest," you scoff, crossing your arms against your chest and looking away.

the elder proposed a research over exotic plants in pairs, but the catch is she would be the one to assign the partners and the plants involved.

and you knew in that moment that she schemed to have you by pair with him.

"i did not use my royal status to have you sleep on the floor," zayne argued.

"you demanded," you replied.

"demanded is rather different from commanding you to do so. i assume you'd know the difference since you've buried your nose in books all day."

you gasp at him in outrage, "you overbearing prince!"

he rolls his eyes at you before plopping down at the queen-sized mattress, "should you change your mind about sleeping on the floor, then i'd be more than glad to serve you your pillows and the curtain as your blanket," he replies in his usual flat tone, and yet you could tell the sarcasm lacing his tongue.

zayne fluffs the pillow behind him with his one hand as the other places his glasses on the bedside table.

"as if i'd let you hog the comforts of the bed!" you cry, tossing yourself over the bed and forcefully pulling the blanket away from him to drape it over yourself.

zayne clicks his tongue in annoyance, tugging the other end of the blanket to him, "you are such a nuisance," he comments.

"why, i am grateful to receive such high praise from the prince. i could say the same thing to you," you shoot back with a forceful grip on the cloth.

"strange, i have never received that compliment before from other people," zayne replies, continuing his strong grasp.

"well perhaps, you should talk to other people apart from your servants," you proclaim. and those are the last words that tumble out of your mouth before zayne vigorously heaves the blanket and you to his side, effectively bringing your body to his corner of the bed with a yelp.

a beat of silence engulfed the room.

your chest drapes over his lap while your left hand remains on the cushion beside his thigh, propping yourself up and the right resting on his knee. you could feel your cheeks heating up and your heart picking up its pace.

suddenly, a whirlwind of emotions surges in you. you hastily removed yourself from his body to apologize, because after all, he is still a prince. but before you could turn to him and profusely explain, perhaps even blame him, the gleam from the moon trickling through the sheer curtains of the floor to ceiling windows caught your attention.

it's the full moon.

shit.

you'd be hearing your soulmate's thoughts in no time.

"i could still feel her heartbeat against my skin."

"oh dear heavens this prince is going to behead me!"

you both slowly fixate your gaze to each other.

"fuck."

mweheheh anyone down for an academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, soulmates and fantasy/royalty au prince!zayne? >:))

[lvmimis]

cw: fluff. established relationship. a little suggestive, no explicit smut. implied shower sex.

Perhaps it’s because of the almost eerie silence in the shop at the late hour, compounded by the fact that you’ve just turned off your background music and are preparing to close up shop, but the footsteps at the front of the door are loud enough to be perceptible before he knocks. You’ve considered setting up a camera, but there are few things of this world that can easily harm you, especially with the sealing spell that you and your mentor have surrounding the perimeter once the clock strikes 10 pm.

Once he passes through the barrier, you can feel the estimate of his demonic energy, intense like a jolt through your body. A bit overwhelming, but you recognize it, and the warning passes just as quickly as it arrives. 

Nero. 

You don’t bother moving, instead leaning your elbows on the surface of your artifact examination desk, directly across from the door, and you can hear him fumble with the key for a moment, murmuring something unintelligible and slightly frustrated under his breath. It brings a mischievous smile to your lips, which abates when he finally pops the door open, and you realize he’s covered in blood from head to toe.

“Oh heavens, Nero!”

Moving quickly, you cross the distance quickly towards him, a napkin quickly grabbed from the checkout counter on your way over, but he’s more entertained than injured by the time you’ve started dabbing at his face and pulling off his jacket at the same time.

“Aren’t you a sensor?” he asks. “I’m literally fine, just kinda disgusting,” he teases, but he doesn’t move from the entrance to your shop as you start to inspect him from head to toe. You don’t respond immediately as you continue to do your own evaluation since he has the habit of undermining his own injuries, but the smell does have a less human quality of it, and once it really settles, you cover your wrinkling nose.

“You couldn’t shower before you came here?” you ask, your face weary. You don’t deny that you are still glad that he came here first, but your urge to kiss him is expectedly easier to suppress than usual.

“Couldn’t wait to see you,” Nero grins. The urge to kiss him rebounds, but you resist again. Not yet. He goes to step further but you give him a warning look, holding out your palm just short of his chest.

“Undress. I’ve already started cleaning up, I don’t need you tracking blood and devil guts all over the floor and ruining my merchandise.”

You try to keep your voice businesslike, hiding how excited you are to see him. After all, this arrangement between the two of you, as his actual girlfriend rather than one of two mutual piners, is still relatively new, and now that you live in Fortuna again, you’re trying to be cautious of your feelings, lest you fall right into the role of lover and nothing else.

Nero rolls his eyes, but he complies. Dirty boots are kicked by the wayside (which you’ve decided you’ll nag about later), and you find a plastic bag to collect pants, socks, shirt, jacket… he raises an eyebrow as you reach over to collect the Blue Rose from him.

“Okay, now you’re overdoing it.”

He’s gone from compliant to irritable with a tick of his jaw, but you don’t back down, letting your palm curl more to bid him to hand it over.

“It’s gross too, I’m going to clean it,” you insist. 

“You’re being dramatic, I’ll just mop the floor myself.” 

Despite saying this, he doesn’t move from his spot, because against his better personal desires, he does still respect you more than anything. 

“Are you going to take my sword too? Since I’m at fucking customs when all I wanted to do was see my girlfriend?”

Admittedly, you do glance at the Red Queen, now posed carefully against the wall of your shop.

“Actually, it’d be too complicated for me to clean it now that I think about it,” you say, tapping your chin with a finger.

“You mean you can’t carry it,” he corrects you. Your eyes snap back to him, and he appears somewhat satisfied as you admit, “Probably not.”

Nero’s standing in only his underwear now, crossing his arms. His face and hair are still slightly covered in blood, as are his palms and fingers, but you have to admit that the unmarred pale skin of his previously covered body is a satisfying contrast, especially when the natural pump of a recent life or death battle really accentuates the taut, well developed muscles of his torso, arms and leg. His… package is satisfying to look at as well, your eyes passing over quickly, and redirecting themselves back upwards. If you’re a little distracted by how good he looks naked, he notices, a grin reappearing on his face.

“So what are you thinking about, sweetheart?”

You pull your eyes away from the ridge of his Adonis’ belt and look back into his sky blue eyes. The warmth in your cheeks is subtle even if you keep your voice unflappable.

“There’s a hole in your underwear.”

He flushes immediately, then looks down to check, and you find yourself giggling. “I’m kidding, come upstairs.”

Taking him by the forearm, you pull him up the stairs with you into your apartment, not realizing in your haste that by the time you’ve reached the top he’s carrying the bag in your other hand instead. He knows the way and doesn’t really need your permission to enter, but the way your fingers tighten around him still makes him warm all over, even if you’ve been dating officially for a few months now, and he has already bedded you before - the same way he’d imagine a high schooler brushing hands with his crush. Despite your desperation to play it cool, the affection in your soul transmits through even your hold, and as you usher him into your bathroom - the bag of soiled clothing left behind in the hallway - the speed at which you turn on your own shower and start to undress yourself makes it clear that you miss him. Terribly. 

“Do you want to…” your voice trails off as you start to become embarrassed. Your clothes are already off, and you are standing before him, in full-frontal nudity, only now aware of the entranced look that overcame him during the process, his eyes now unabashedly focused on your breasts.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” he whispers, eyes still unwavering. You run your hand through the heating water, then rub grime and blood off his right cheek.

“Not at all,” you whisper. His gaze readjusts to look into your eyes.

“You don’t need to ask.”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck as he dips to pull his underwear off. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you, one lateral step after the other into the shower.

The water is warm now, pouring over both of your bodies without shivers. Nero is still looking into your eyes and you’re still looking into his, eye contact unbroken as the steam rises around you.

“I missed you,” you finally admit.

Seconds later your lips connect as water washes both of you clean, and you kiss enough to replace any time you were apart. He steps forward and with your back pressed against the wall of the shower, he smiles again, cheeky, loving.

“I missed you, too.”

[jijournal]

A WEASLEY GIFT | R.W

Summary: Ron surprises you with something very special in the Weasley household.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You were only half joking one evening in the Gryffindor common room when you’d said, “Honestly, Ron, I’m starting to feel left out. Where’s my Weasley sweater?”

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Fred and George wrestled over something ridiculous while Ron lounged beside you, flipping through a Quidditch magazine. He’d glanced over at you with a crooked smile, laughing lightly. “Yeah? I’ll tell Mum to put you on the list.”

But what you didn’t notice was how his smile lingered a little too long after your words—or how his gaze dropped thoughtfully to your hands as you tugged your sleeves over your knuckles, looking almost wistful.

You’d forgotten the comment by the next morning.

But Ron… hadn’t.

⸻

A few weeks later, you came back to the common room after a long day of classes, ready to collapse into your usual spot by the fire. But as soon as you stepped inside, something felt different.

Ron was there—standing by the fireplace, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, his cheeks flushed pink. His eyes locked onto yours the moment you walked in, and he stiffened, gripping something behind his back like he was hiding a weapon.

“Hey,” you greeted, raising a curious brow, sensing the nerves rolling off him in waves. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m—fine,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Just… uh… actually—wait.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward, pulling something out from behind his back and holding it up between you.

It was a sweater.

A big, chunky, obviously handmade sweater.

Your heart actually skipped.

It wasn’t perfect—in fact, it was hilariously imperfect. The stitching was uneven, the sleeves looked slightly mismatched in length, and the maroon wool had random streaks of mustard yellow running through it. But there, front and center, were your initials—crooked but unmistakable—stitched right onto the front.

You stared, mouth falling open.

“Ron…” you said softly, reaching out to take it from him, “is this—did you…?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring determinedly at the floor. “I mean, yeah. I did. Well—Mum helped a bit with the… magic bits. But I—I did most of it. Thought you deserved your own Weasley jumper if you were serious about wanting one.” He glanced up quickly, eyes flicking to yours, then back down just as fast. “It’s not… y’know, perfect or anything.”

Your heart swelled in your chest.

“It’s perfect,” you said, barely getting the words out before you were tugging it over your head. It was huge, hanging past your hips, and the sleeves were way too long. But it was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon and woodsmoke, and you honestly couldn’t have loved anything more in that moment.

You stretched out your arms, grinning. “How do I look?”

Ron’s grin bloomed, wide and proud, his freckles practically glowing with how red his face got. “Like a—like a proper Weasley,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

You laughed, stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing tight. You felt him freeze for a second in surprise before he melted into the hug, his arms coming around you with that same awkward, sweet gentleness that was so him.

You pulled back just enough to kiss his cheek—soft and lingering—and when you stepped away, he looked completely stunned, blinking down at you like you’d just set off a firework between you.

“Best gift I’ve ever gotten,” you said, resting your chin on his chest and beaming up at him.

He gave a breathless little laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah? Well… good. I’ve got years of practice ahead if you’re gonna keep asking for stuff like that.”

“Careful,” you teased, leaning into him again. “I might start making demands.”

Ron chuckled, tightening his arms around you as he pressed his nose into your hair, warm and content. “Anything you want,” he mumbled against your temple, voice low and sincere. “You’re worth it.”

And as you stood there, wrapped in both his sweater and his arms, you couldn’t help but think you’d never felt cozier—or more loved—in your entire life.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[jetblack4realz]

protector - haymitch abernathy

growing back

masterlist

your speech in the capitol shakes snow's stability - and haymitch isn't happy about it.

warnings: sexualizing, allusions to sa and gross people, spoilers to sotr, age gap of like 3 years

word count: 2.3k

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

haymitch was nervous.

you made him nervous.

in so many ways that he didn't even know what to do about it. on the train, in his home, in the capitol - your presence made his heart beat just a little bit faster and he resented it.

but especially tonight, especially with your upcoming speech that you'd insisted to nelsie that you write yourself, his nerves were going wild.

and the way you looked in that damn dress wasn't helping either.

black velvet, one shouldered, a cut out on your waist the same side as the missing shoulder, and matching golden accessories.

your stylist wanted to showcase your unique attributes: the black for your relationship with haymitch, the velvet for your love of the capitol, the gold petrel necklace that sat perfectly on your collarbone for your victor heritage, and the cutout outlined the scarred gash that the games had left you with. and of course, the one shoulder just exposed more skin that sponsors were sure to eat up.

he was sure that all the fashion tabloids would be talking about his design.

you thought it was rather calm compared to other victor outfits.

haymitch almost wanted to thank your stylist - you were drop dead gorgeous. literally.

your makeup was perfectly simple - and yet it was still sharp and mature. just a winged liner and gold inner corners, glossy red lips topping it off. when he saw you walk backstage to meet him he internally groaned at the fact that it'd rub off on his own lips, and then he kicked himself in the ass for thinking that.

you hadn't kissed since district 3.

it didn't feel right. not yet.

not that he was planning it, either, or that he was counting down the minutes until he was able to kiss you again. that's not what he wanted. he just wanted to protect you without things being awkward.

obviously.

"do i have to say anything?" he asked you with raised brows, one hand clutching his third glass of the night tightly as the other hung loose by his side.

you smiled gently at him, and he felt his heart give way at it again. "no, you don't. i know not to say anything stupid."

"just be polite, praise the capitol, and then we can get this damn party over with and get out of here," he said anyways. you ran a hand through your hair as you rolled your eyes, and his hand flexed at his side out of reflex.

"i know," you told him. "just remember your promise."

"hey, i'll do what it takes to keep you as close to me as possible," he answered, grinning lopsidedly. his hand twitched at his side. "as long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

"and i will," you said with a nod, your smile disappearing as you glanced over his shoulder to where the podium was placed in the center of the stage. the capitol higher ups were eating dessert with loud, giggly chatter on the rest of the floor, and you could just barely see where president snow and his family were dining on the center terrace.

a beat passed, and then, finally, he reached out to grab your hand, his thumb running over the back of it. "you're gonna do great, honey. don't think too hard."

"too late," you said, smiling thinly at him as you squeezed his hand. "but, thank you."

another moment passed, his brain running a million miles a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again.

but he was cut off.

"you ready, sweetheart?" mags asked, coming to your side with the toddler on her hip.

you let out a heavy breath before planting a smile on your lips again and nodding. "as i'll ever be."

"you do great, cuz!" fish exclaimed.

that brought a real smile to your face, and you let go of haymitch's hand to place yours on the boy's cheek.

"thank you bubs," you told him, pressing a kiss to his nose and earning a giggle in return.

the air seemed to loosen around you four as the little laugh filled the space, and haymitch's heart calmed for a moment.

and then mags was handing him the child.

she looked at him intently. "hold him for me? i need to tell them she's ready."

"oh, i can just-"

"here," she said simply, placing fish in haymitch's arms. she turned to you with a motherly smile, patting your cheek gently. "you're going to be fine. just remember to breathe, yeah?" you nodded. "okay. knock 'em dead."

the older woman walked off of sidestage to speak with whoever was in charge of this whole ordeal and then only moments later nelsie was pulling you to the curtains.

"bye cuzzie!" fish exclaimed, and you waved with a small smile. the boy turned to haymitch with a grin that mirrored the one he had exclusively for playing the 'rascal', and it made haymitch smile too. "hi mitchie."

"hey kid," he said, adjusting the boy to settle more comfortably on his.

the sound of the microphone being tapped echoed through the room, and at once both haymitch and fish's attentions were on the stage, haymitch shuffling closer to give them both a better view of you.

he could barely see the side of your face, your brightly painted red lips pulled up in the same easy-looking smile that you used every time you were in public. the crowd was cheering loudly, their claps piercing and screams awfully high-pitched. he didn't realize so many people had been crammed in the ballroom of the president's mansion - or maybe it was just the way the walls were curved that was amplifying the sound.

either way, you didn't seem phased by it, a stark contrast to your image in district 1.

but, the face of the boy you killed wasn't on the back wall, and you weren't surrounded by victors and civilians and the families of dead tributes.

no. now you were just surrounded by people who either wanted to sleep with you or be you.

and just one who could very well want to kill you.

"she looks pretty," fish mumbled in haymitch's ear, and the man nodded with a thin smile.

"yeah. she does."

he couldn't keep his eyes off you. you were mesmerizing.

your shoulders were straight, your chin stuck out properly as you offered the crowd a small wave. you laughed a bit as the applause continued for far longer than you were used to, shaking your head humbly even as more whoops sounded through the room.

"please, please," your voice was smooth and at ease, and he couldn't say he wasn't shocked. the crowd listened to you, waiting for your next words, and haymitch even found himself leaning forwards in anticipation.

"ever since i came here that first day after the reaping, i have been welcomed with the warmest arms in panem. i could barely believe i was even here - the capitol, with all its shining lights and flamboyant fashions, was more than a simple girl from district 4 could imagine in her wildest dreams. it's comfortable, it's safe. there's here. everything glows, and it has this peacefulness about it that just makes me think that maybe this is what the world could be like."

there were a few scattered claps as everyone was hanging onto your next words, bright smiles on their lips as they gazed lovingly up at you.

"and it's comforting, in a way, to know that peace always comes at a price... and that someone has already paid it."

you scanned the crowd with a gentle smile.

haymitch's hold on your cousin tightened.

"your generosity has overwhelmed me. it took me a while, but i finally realized i felt it so much because some cages shine so brightly that you can barely see the bars. my eyes have been opened in that way."

the capitol citizens were in awe - this poor district girl, imprisoned by district life and finally set free in the capitol.

the victors scattered in the crowd knew better - the prison was the capitol. haymitch knew it. mags knew it. and they were both confident that snow realized what she was saying too.

"before and after the games were so exciting - caesar, i've had the time of my life with you," you laughed as you pointed at the purple-haired man. he grinned, a hand over his heart as he waved the compliment away. "the best performances are the ones where no one realizes it's all a play. and you, sir, are the expert!"

the crowd laughed again, caesar doing a faux-bow as the cameras panned to him.

your smile remained on your lips. "in some ways, it was vaguely similar to my experience in the games themselves, and in many ways they were so starkly separate. i'll never forget the feeling that swelled in my chest when i watched that first little girl go down. or the feeling that followed my first and last kill."

haymitch held his breath.

vague. stay vague.

"it didn't make me feel like a winner, and yet i was told i was. i couldn't believe it." somehow you were still smiling, and you hadn't tripped up yet. your voice was breathy, like you were astonished. "i was the last one yet. maybe not a victor, but a survivor."

haymitch's smile was wiped clear, his lips parted in shock as you continued.

shit.

the capitol cheered. you grinned. and then you sobered.

"in so many ways, we are all survivors of something. the only ones left standing. and isn't it beautiful, how we're taught to smile through it?"

your smile was too wide, too shiny, and yet they ate it up. they cheered louder.

haymitch's breath was stolen from him, his heart pounding as he waited for your next words.

"but we're all more than what we've survived! more than what's broken. because what's broken can always be fixed. though it can't be smothered in silk and rubies, it will always find a way to grow back. and though my games have left me a bit scarred-" you let out a laugh, patting your exposed side where everyone could see the jagged line from where thornton had stabbed you with a spear before you killed him, "that's what i'm here in the capitol, the most prosperous place on earth, to do. to growing back!"

he managed to breathe again, but only to let out a puff of disbelief.

and then you turned, accepting a champagne glass from the avox that had speedily approached your side, and then raising it high in the air.

the capitol echoed your words: "to growing back!"

and your eyes were on snow.

haymitch's were on you, wide and dilated in fear.

you all sipped your glasses, and then once yours was once again on the avox's tray, the crowd was on their feet and cheering loudly. a few tables in the back began chanting your name, and you lifted your hand to your heart with a sweet smile as you gave them a little curtsy.

you blew them a final kiss and a wink before laughing and exiting the stage.

now, haymitch had gotten pretty good at schooling his features in the past few years of performing for capitol benefit.

but this... this was too much for him.

he wasn't angry, he knew that much. no, it wasn't anger that was filling and constricting his chest. it wasn't frustration that was burning the back of his throat and making his heart pound so hard he was sure fish could hear it, or at the least feel it in his hands that were still wrapped around the boy.

no. not anger.

not rage.

there was time to be angry later.

instead he was filled with the most unpleasant, tremor-inducing sense of anxiety he'd felt since the repercussions of his own games.

"haymitch?"

he shook his head, eyes on the floors, curtains, ceilings, avoxes; anything but you.

"h. hey."

he stepped back, blinking quickly as he finally met your eyes.

you knitted your brows, reaching forward but he pulled away from you. "hey, i - i'm sorry. i felt like it had to be said. i needed to do something-"

"don't." he held his free hand in the air, shaking his head again as he balance fish on his hip more firmly. "i don't - i don't want to hear it. you knew... i told you. i told you what he'd do and you just... threw it away!"

"he won't do anything, my family is untouchable-"

"no one is untouchable."

mags appeared, and for the first time since he'd met her, haymitch saw a thin veil of anger on her features. she tried to disguise it, eyes softening the slightest bit when she met his, but her lips were twitching down and brows knitting together.

haymitch thrusted fish back into her arms.

"excuse me."

"haymitch-!"

"let him go. he needs to breathe."

"i didn't mean to... i don't... i just wanted to do something right for once. i've done everything else wrong."

"i can't tell you what right and wrong is, sweetheart, but i can tell you that this will have repercussions."

"but, the capitol loved it."

"doesn't matter," haymitch muttered under his breath before he finally burst into the hallway.

his hands were shaking, his breath was short.

his feet carried him far, down the hallway, up some stairs, down more winding hallways as his brain ran from him.

fire.

gumdrops.

caskets.

an empty white house.

liquor.

he didn't know he'd survive. he didn't know his actions would kill everyone he loved. he didn't know.

you knew.

he'd told you. mags had told you. snow had told you.

you knew.

and you still risked it all.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 12

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers, Mature Sexual Situations.

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby @blvked19

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Rat Bastard Masterlist

You had a countdown running inside of your head. 

It felt like a doomsday clock and it kept running and running and you did your best to live your life, ignoring the constant, terrifying ticking.

You were a fraud and a fake. You’d all but explicitly promised him you’d come clean with Claire by the time he’d returned from his work trip. By the time you catch a glimpse of his beautiful face surrounded by the flowers, ribbons, and opulent table decorations of Sam and Mari’s wedding — this relationship wouldn’t have to be kept a secret from anyone. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried. 

Rehearsing what you would say in your head at least twenty times and chickening out every single time you saw her in person with some new excuse like “Now is not the right time,” or “I’ll definitely tell her next time,” counted as trying, right?

But the timing had always been wrong. At first it really, really wasn’t the right time. The constant ruminating over it continued inside your head. 

She’s still recovering from the blow in her relationship. I shouldn’t be feeling so happy right now when she’s feeling this awful.

How would you feel if, on the night your boyfriend of two years had dumped you, and in between the glasses of wine and slobbering tears, your best friend picked then to tell you all about her brand spanking new boyfriend and about how perfect he was and about how handsome and sweet and caring he was and how mind blowing the sex was and how delicious the food was, and, and, and —

Well, now she’s crying again. I can't tell her when she’s crying.

So you pushed it down. You put it all away and you hugged your friend and didn’t say anything when she dribbled tears and snot all over your shirt. You drank wine with her and you agreed with everything she said; calling him a bad person, calling him an fucking idiot, swearing off all men with her in solidarity, but, with your fingers crossed behind your back, nodding in convincing agreement when she told you how lucky you were that you were young and pretty and single and not tied down to some man. You were quick to switch from nodding enthusiastically to frowning and shaking your head in disagreement when her hate speeches turned to questions about whether or not he had another woman. 

“There’s no way,” you declared as a fact even if — if you really thought about it — “He wouldn’t — Eric wouldn’t,” you added with a voice that lost some of its conviction at the tail end because if — if you let your mind drift there, what other reason — what noble reason could there be? 

Even if you had to lie to yourself about how sure you were, you’d do it. You were playing your part and you’d do what you had to do to get her through this. 

She’d done the same for you when you’d lost your job and even jumped through hoops to get you an exclusive interview at a sister firm of her company. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her that you’d been offered and had accepted the position and would be starting next month. 

“You’re right,” she nodded, blowing her nose into a wadded up tissue, but her eyes refused to look up into yours for longer than a half a second at a time and your throat had gone dry with the unsaid accusations playing just inside of your throat. 

You even promised not to tell anyone in the whole wide world about this because she was feeling too horrible for anyone to know. Anyone except for you. Rejected, devastated, absolutely humiliated, she wasn’t ready to face anyone looking at her with pity, or treating her like some sort of fragile, frail, fractured thing all because some man had dropped her without any fucking warning like she never even meant anything at all to him, like — like — like the last two years they’d spent together, the promises they’d made each other were all nothing.

You listened to her and you supported her. You would love her enough to overcome whatever anyone else did to her because she was your best friend. You knew she wasn’t lying when she told you she hadn’t told another soul about this, not yet, she wasn’t ready yet, and as the evening progressed you kept her from sending any drunk texts to the latest specimen of the male species to be crowned a rat bastard (derogatory).

Your first real chance came as she was drifting off to sleep on the big sectional sofa in her living room. Her swollen eyes had finally been drifting closed as the blinks grew longer and her sniffling had settled and you felt in your hand, your phone that sat beside her confiscated phone, was buzzing softly. 

Doh Kyungsoo was calling you. You watched it ring — your fingertips trailing lightly and, against your will, quite lovingly up and over the edge of your screen, you hovered an index finger over the button that would reject the call and you nearly mustered the strength to push it. 

“Is that him?” Claire’s voice was tiny, muffled by sleep and by the pillow her face was pressed up against, “is that Eric?” The tragic hope you heard in her voice pulled your lips into a deep frown. 

You pressed a button on the screen, sending a canned text message in response to his call to stop the buzzing, and you swiped quickly to turn on the Do Not Disturb function before laying your phone face down on the sofa beside your thigh. 

“No, Honey. That was mine. I’m sorry.”

You felt her movement through the back of the sofa and she slowly lifted her head and peeked through her lashes at you, “You can take it — if it is important — oh,” she interrupted her own words with a pause, pulling her face up higher as she struggled for balance. She stretched out with a hand, gripping clumsily at your hand that you offered toward her.

“Didn’t you — didn’t you have some — news — you said —” the words came out stuttering and jagged through a stopped up nose and light gasping hiccups; evidence of the hours of upset and several glasses of wine she’d been through. 

Before she got the bulk of her words out you were shaking your head back and forth, a small smile pulled onto your lips. No. Not now.

“No, tell me.” She squeezed your hand and shook it but you were still shaking your head, looking down and away from her insisting face. The thing about Claire though, was she was not one to be dissuaded. She was relentless when she wanted to be and after the third shake of your hand you felt yourself crumbling. It began with the smallest sigh of resignation and you lifted your head fully prepared to spill the beans. 

You nearly did it. You inhaled a fortified breath and everything. But, looking into her face, with her swollen and puffy red-rimmed eyes and the deep and profound sadness she couldn't hide inside of them and you just couldn’t. 

You couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. 

“I, umm,” you began, inhaling through your nose deep and slow and you dropped your eyes from her pleading face, looking down at her hand that you now held tightly inside of both of yours, “I got the job.” The words, despite being the truth, burned the back of your tongue. Just like lying to your best friend might. “That’s all I was going to tell you. I start next month.”

Claire gasped. The inhale caught resistance in her stuffed up nose and you felt the lightest swat of her free hand on your shoulder. 

“I knew you would!” she cried. It pulled your eyes back up into hers and you pushed the false narrative up to your face, slipping your smile up wide enough to push at your eyes convincingly. 

The smile on her face, although small, was genuine and truthful. When she leaned forward and gripped you tightly around your shoulders and pulled you into her chest, you felt her honesty. “Will you stay the night with me?” She whispered over your shoulder into your ear and you nodded your head. 

“Of course.” You were placing warm palms over her arms, pulling her off of you and laying her back down onto the sofa where she’d drifted off earlier. 

“I’ll be here. You just sleep.” She was always an agreeable drunk, even when her heart was broken. She laid back down in the same position, stuffing her face into the back of the sofa and you patted her back slowly until her breathing grew steady, slow, and even. 

When you’d snuck off to the bathroom with your phone to call Kyungsoo, he was patient and quiet as he listened to you whisper on the line. He was easy with his acceptance of your vaguely secretive reasons as to why you were whispering, why your voice sounded a little bit upset, why you wouldn’t be able to fill his ear with your silly chatter as you usually did in the evenings until you fell asleep to the sounds of a rapid knife hitting a cutting board as he started that evening’s fancy schmancy dinner service for his clients in some other time zone. He didn’t prod or pry about what exactly happened with Claire that required such drastic measures. 

He only hummed in response and told you he would miss you tonight. His goodnight message had the now familiar crypticism of his. 

“Two sunsets,” he whispered into your ear and your lips twitched with a smile, a tiny giggle betrayed you through the miles and miles that separated you. Yesterday he had promised three sunsets. The day before it was four. How far you’d both come from that first frustrated groan that vibrated through your eardrum, a noisy complaint that he would have to survive fourteen whole days and nights without you. 

“That’s fourteen days and nights without seeing you. Fourteen sunsets missing you. Absolute fucking torture. I don't think I’m gonna make it.”

While he was obviously very good at hiding it beneath a cool, unphased exterior, this man was turning out to be much needier than you’d ever expected him to be. It was ridiculously flattering and you were admittedly on cloud nine about it. But, between the two of you, you had been the more mature one in handling the separation. 

You had things to occupy your mind, of course. You had been quite busy while he was away. The stressful job interview and days of interview preparations that went before it. The days after when you were obsessively refreshing the job portal to check for any changes in status. Answering every single phone call that came into your phone with a desperate “hello?” Fighting for your life against the robocallers and scammers until that fateful phone call where you held your breath the entire time as you were offered the job and you could finally unclench long enough to get on with your life knowing you wouldn’t be destitute, hungry, and homeless anytime soon. After the offer you even allowed yourself to splurge on a pretty dress, shoes, and jewelry for the wedding. Making a few appointments for important things like hair, makeup, and nails. 

All the while, the entirety of the time, never once letting up, the ticking of your doomsday clock echoed. Reminding you that again and again, whether you wanted it to or not, time, the stupid son of a bitch, was relentless and never stopped moving forward. 

“Two sunsets,” you sighed and the breath stuttered through your lungs. You hadn’t intended it, but it came out sounding defeated. Sad and hopeless. You held your breath and you braced for him to notice, praying he wouldn’t bring it up.

He would have had to have known and understood that you’d been through a rough evening with Claire. Maybe he could even read through the lines enough to surmise that perhaps something devastating could have happened to her and of course, you being her very best friend, would have felt equally as devastated. Kyungsoo would, no doubt, have attributed whatever he may have heard in your voice to that upset. It wasn’t because you were a shitty girlfriend and hadn’t fulfilled your promise to him yet. Claire still didn’t know anything about the two of you and this beautiful, wonderful, precious human being was still nothing more than a shameful secret that you didn’t have the nerve to reveal to anyone yet. 

You heard a sound. The small inhale. The sound of air pulling over his phone’s mic. The tiniest little hum from the back of his throat before, “You okay?” 

You were chewing on the dried skin on your upper lip, your front teeth grabbing at a tiny corner of skin. You let out the softest hum of uncertainty and you had to clear your throat of the tightness you felt in there.

“Hmm? My Love?” His low voice coaxed over your closed up skin, pulling lightly against your limbs, begging for you to unfold yourself.  

“Kyungsoo, I didn’t tell her yet.” That tightness spread from your throat down your breastplate, curling itself up on top of your lungs and you swallowed noisily, feeling no relief in the action, “I couldn’t. Something happened tonight — Something I promised I wouldn’t talk about happened and…I wanted to tell her, but I haven’t been able to — yet.”

You cleared your throat again. The silence on the other end of this phone call inflating that feeling inside of your chest the longer it went on. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered on the tail end of the air left in your lungs. You wanted to keep going. You wanted to tell him how much you practiced telling her, how much you wanted to tell her, how much you loved him and didn’t want to keep hiding like this but you simply could not bring yourself to speak again. 

“I see,” he said after what felt like ages of you waiting to breathe.

The breath you managed to take after he spoke again didn’t really help this feeling. You couldn’t tell what emotions lay behind his response, mostly because there was so little he said. 

Was he upset? Hurt? Sad? Angry? His non-action made your mind run wild and you inhaled again, “Ar—”

But, “Does—” he was speaking at the same time as you. An awkward half syllable. His thought interrupted when he heard you speaking and he stopped abruptly. 

You stopped too, much more desperate to hear his reaction than to get your silly silence filling words out. 

“Go ahead,” he said in a flat voice.

“N-No,” you mumbled, feeling very genuine heat filling up the blood vessels of your cheeks, “I wasn’t saying anything important. You can speak.”

It hadn’t felt like this with him before. Your breath was catching in your throat, not satisfying your need for oxygen. You felt dizzy and unfinished and unfulfilled. 

“I was just,” he spoke up after a few seconds, his voice holding just a touch more energy than the first few syllables he’d tried, “does that mean, this Saturday?” 

His inflection trailed up, posing this half question to you.

”Y-Yeah,” you said, gasping again through the discomfort you felt all over. “I’m sorry,” you added, even though you knew your repeated apology for your failures did nothing to fix this. 

“You,” he spoke again, quicker this time. Just under the surface of his voice you heard a tinge of something, some familiar echo of annoyance that you’d definitely heard from him in the past. He was upset.

“You know I’m a groomsman, right? So that means I won't have time to come and see you when I get home? Like, my flight lands and I’ll have to get ready for the ceremony and we won’t see each other at all until the wedding and — and—” You could practically see the wide-eyed annoyance on his face through the phone.

“So, we’re still — a secret, then?” 

“Yeah,” you relented. He was right to be annoyed with you. “I’m—,” you cut yourself off before you could apologize again. But, he was right. This would be awful. 

“Can you really do that? Just — pretend? After everything. Just—”

“I don't know what else to do. I think — we’ll have to — for now.” Your voice was pleading now. Followed quickly by your words in a pathetic whisper, “Please, Kyungsoo.”

He responded first with a quick puff of air through his nostrils and then you heard the mirrored inhale, counted out at least three seconds of silence before you heard the quietest humorless chuckle, “I’m just — I get it, okay? For the record, I understand. And please believe me when I say I won’t do anything to ruin your friendship with Claire. You know, I won’t, but—” he inhaled a deep breath, exhaling for a long time, and even pulling his face away from the phone as the sounds of his breathing seemed to grow further away for a while. 

“Okay.” 

When he came back, you sensed the shift in him. 

“Okay.” 

With the next deep inhale you felt the man cave to you. 

“Okay, Baby, that‘s okay. What do you need from me? Tell me the plan. I‘ll do it. I‘ll be who you need me to be.” His voice was a warm and steady summer rainshower. 

The pet name, the gentle agreement, the softness, the forgiveness. It took you a moment to absorb the push you felt against your heart. You inhaled a deep, satisfying breath of fresh air, fighting the tiniest stammer in your throat. 

“Just act like — like before, I guess.”

“Are you kidding me? Before?” 

“Well, not before before. Not like, the cruelty, name calling, cyberstalking, the bullying—” You answered lamely. He was right. You were awful to him before. He was a rat bastard and you were pretty sure you were the devil in high heels.

“No. I‘m not doing any of that. And you better not either. I swear to God.” In your mind's eye his finger was raised, pointed at you in accusation. You pouted out your bottom lip, fully feeling the scolding he dished out for your past behavior. 

He let out a long exhale. 

“Best I can do is indifference. Take it or leave it.” 

“Indifference?”

“M-hmm,” he hummed.

You genuinely considered it. 

It was so… easy sounding. 

“Hmm…I can do indifference. Yeah. Just two people who are indifferent to each other. We’ve matured. Moved on. Put the past behind us, right?” 

“M-hmm,” he hummed again. Easy-peasy.

But your mind was whirling. 

Suddenly it didn’t sound so easy. What if he looked at you in that way? The same way he looked at you when he made love to you? 

You inhaled to talk yourself through it.

“Doesn‘t matter what you do — or what I do? No connections to each other. Nothing promised between us.” You began to feel funny.

“Just nothing … I’m nobody to you.”

Oh god, what if he didn‘t look at you at all? Didn’t notice how pretty you looked in your fancy dress, or imagine even taking it off of you later that evening? 

What if he looked too good in the suit? You’d never seen him in a suit before. Jesus, a hot man in a suit was your kryptonite. What if he was too handsome for anyone in the entire place to resist? What if his good looks and cool, unaffected attitude attracted too much attention? 

What if some sexy floozy flirted with him? What if she laughed at his sarcastic jokes and what if he let her? Were you really indifferent to that? What if you had to jump some slut in the bathroom for flirting with a man who you were completely indifferent toward? Could you really win in a fight? What if you had to enlist Claire as your backup? Could she fight in her vulnerable emotional state? You knew she would. In a heartbeat, she would. But how effective would she be at grabbing that bitch’s hair and dodging fingernails in between the tears?

“I mean, yeah. You can do whatever you want. With whomever you want. But then I can also do whatever I want, right?” You couldn't help feeling annoyed now. 

“You don’t matter to me and I obviously don't matter to you, right? That‘s indifference, right!?” 

Oh you were heated now. How could you possibly go along with this plan? His could he ever entertain the thought of treating you like you were nothing. Even when you hated each other there was always something there. Something intense driving that passion. 

He’d gone suspiciously quiet as you talked. You harrumphed noisily. Getting more and more irritated with his suggestion the longer you ran it through the countless lists of hypotheticals. 

“Jeez, I'd rather you still hated my guts.” You were mumbling under your breath. Not quite trying to not be heard. 

“O—kay? You sound — a little —”

“Indifferent?” You interrupted. With sass.

“No…”

”No, I wouldn’t call it that.”

Oh his words came out so slowly and carefully. So much less sure of himself now. Now that he‘d pranced around all night looking like a fucking snack. Laughing and dancing and flirting and having the time of his life with strangers but treating you, of course, with absolute indifference.

You could feel yourself spiraling. You missed him. You wanted to be with him. You only had yourself to blame for this. You were the one who hesitated for two whole weeks until you painted yourself into a corner and actually couldn’t be honest with Claire. This was your fault. You were the only one to blame for this mess you both found yourselves in. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, having had a few moments of his patient waiting to rein in the crazy side of you that he always seemed to politely ignore. 

“I just…miss you like crazy today.” Having admitted that, you let out a long exhale of air through your mouth and you heard the softest little hum in response from him. Was he practicing his indifference already?

“Maybe we can just avoid each other,” you offered. You weren’t about to spiral again, thinking too hard about how tortuous it might be to be slighted by him when you saw him instead of scooped up, spun around in a dramatic circle, and kissed. 

“Do you think we can?” He seemed to be moving around. “It’s not that big of a wedding.” He spoke matter-of-factly. Like this was a business transaction. His voice level and calm as he simply stated truths. You heard familiar sounds for this time of night. Water running somewhere, and that quick, high pitched metal-on-metal shink sound that happened when he was sharpening his knife. 

He started chopping something. Rhythmic and steady taps. You’d long ago slumped down to sit down on the edge of Claire’s bathtub, paying only half attention to any sounds that might be coming down the hallway. You knew Claire. With as much wine as she drank, she’d be out until dawn.

Over the sounds of his knife hitting the wooden cutting board, you heard the soft call of his voice over the far-away connection. He spoke out your name with his sweetened tongue and the sound beckoned sweetly to you, pulling your bottom lip forward into the smallest, silliest pout. He couldn't see you so you could get away with it. You missed him so much. 

You hummed out a response to him calling you. 

“You didn’t answer my question?” He said when he heard you respond. “Do you think it's even possible to avoid each other? I know I don't want to.” 

Your pout turned into a frown. Your head lolled to one side. You did not answer. You simply exhaled noisily through your nose. 

“I don't want to avoid you. I want to see you. Talk with you. Laugh with you. Be with you. I want to touch you. Hold you in my arms and kiss you. Unlike you, I don't see the value in lying to myself about it. And at the risk of setting you off again —” he filled your silence up with his heady voice. 

You heard notes of his usual sauciness and you rolled your eyes just a little bit, despite the hard pull at the edges of your mouth. “— might I remind you that this was all your idea. I gave you ‘indifference’ as my only option. I believe I said ‘take it, or leave it.’ And you left it. So good luck avoiding me, I guess.” 

“Kyungsoo.” You lightly scolded, whining into it, earning the smallest chuckle from him. You groaned out loud, out of options and he simply laughed again. 

“Wait, can I still have indifference?” This made him laugh even harder and it took a few times calling his name to get him to stop and answer your pleas. ”I would like indifference, please.”

When he spoke again, it wasn’t to promise you he’d follow the original plans. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of Claire tonight, my Love?”

”She’s out cold,” you answered candidly, having let down all of your guards you let slip, “cried herself to sleep,” and you heard a pause in the steady tapping of his knife. Too late though, you lifted your fingers to lay them over your lips as if you could put the extra details back in. 

“That bad?”

You nodded your head. He couldn't see, yet he grumbled as if he could, before asking another one word question. “Eric?” 

You sniffled your nose a little and cleared your throat, worrying over the words that sat right on the tip of your tongue. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Technically you didn’t admit to anything but still, the man could read you pretty well at this point. It felt like you might have spilled. 

“That asshole,” he cursed. 

You nodded your head, feeling some sort of satisfaction to hear him as upset as you felt, before you realized that you may have just accidentally let slip your best friend’s secret. Well, technically your boyfriend guessed it. 

“Kyungsoo, no one else is supposed to know. You don't know anything. Got it?” You called out over the sound of his aggressive chopping. You heard the sound of the pause a second before you heard his voice. 

“I always felt something was off about him. I could feel it, you know?” The chopping resumed. “Still. I tried to like him, for Claire.”

”You too?” You had to speak up. He had been lost in his rant. “I felt the same way. I don't know, I honestly feel like she’s better off. Still, it’s hard.” 

“Of course it is. But, she has you. She’s going to be okay.” His voice grew closer, it felt like a farewell, “and Babe, about Saturday? I’ll be who you need me to be. Don't worry about it.”

“Two sunsets,” you whispered across the ocean, hoping he could feel how much you loved him from so far away. 

Those two sunsets slipped by so quickly. You’d soon find yourself getting that first bitter taste of an indifferent Doh Kyungsoo. 

Claire was just well enough to make it to Sam and Mari’s wedding but it took some convincing; and even then, it was only after you came up the plausible story of a family emergency out of state to explain Eric’s absence that she crawled into the shower, slapped on just enough makeup to cover the dark circles and slipped on a fancy dress that looked good beside you in your black number. You couldn’t imagine Eric would have the nerve to show up tonight, so you linked arms with her as you made your way through the rows of tables. Just a couple of secretless gals out for an evening of dancing, drinking, and mingling. 

The event was well attended and most of the guests, like you, had arrived just in time for drinks service to begin. 

Despite the multitude of familiar faces, many of which stopped to greet you with toothy smiles, excited hugs, or hopeful promises to catch up, your eyes moved on their own, searching for one face in the sea of faces — for one person in particular whose familiarity ran so deep through your veins that they seemed to pulse with the rhythmic anticipation of shared heartbeats and mirrored breathes. 

Another friend greeted you. You played the part, smiling wide, moving in for a hug and holding eye contact for as long as you could physically stand before you risked another glance around the room. 

Just one look. You’d be satisfied for the whole night if you could just see him. It had been so long since you’d let your eyes wander over his pretty face, his imposing and powerful eyes and plumped lips that balanced out the perfection of his face. You’d only look and you wouldn’t even stare at him dreamily. Even if he kept his end of the bargain up and did not smile at you in secret or slip his fingertips lightly over the bare small of your back that this sexy dress exposed, you’d be satisfied with simply seeing him and knowing he’d come back home to you. 

After one too many newly discovered faces turned into disappointment, you stiffened to feel someone’s hand slip into the crook of your elbow and you turned with a start, catching the familiar eyes of your best friend who moved in close to you, linking elbows and placing a warm hand over top of her grip as she leaned in for a message. 

“He’s not coming,” she said in a gentle whisper against your ear and you couldn’t hold the quick flash of shock that must have flown over your face before you’d had a chance to settle it. Claire pulled her face back to look into your eyes, if she’d been tipped off to your strong reaction she didn’t let it be known for long before she shrugged and frowned slightly with a head shake. “He wouldn’t. These are my friends. This is my world. He wouldn’t have any reason to come here without me.” 

Eric. You steadied your eyes on her and nodded your head lightly, giving her a small wince with your eyebrows. 

“H-hey, Cl—”

Something jumped inside of you.

You’d started to speak. 

“Claire!”

For a moment, you’d begun to test the waters but her attention was diverted by the sound of someone — someone — 

Someone had called her name. 

Someone.

Your pulse jumped and you closed your eyes up, losing the warmth of Claire’s arm that kept you tethered here, your eyes opened and followed her back where she vanished. Strong, black-suit clad arms wrapped tightly around her waist and squeezed, then lightly lifted in place by his strong back and plopped back down on her two feet, his arms still encircling her waist and the sounds of genuine giggles erupting from inside of her.

She was all smiles as she tried to pull away from the tight embrace he still held her hostage with. He seemed to be holding on. He seemed to be overdoing it. Taking a simple greeting and turned the hug into something much more comforting. Something you might do for a dear friend who had been through something, or was having a hard time lately. Something designed to sooth and fix. Which was absolutely not allowed for someone who wasn’t supposed to know anything about Claire’s fragile emotional state right now. 

“Kyungsoo!” She cried through a wide grin, tapping her palms lightly over his back.  

He rubbed comforting circles over her back. You crossed your arms over your chest and took a step back, rocking on your heels and turning your focus away from the spectacle this man was becoming. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Claire looked up into his bright eyes the moment he came to his senses and relinquished the woman. If she had suspicions about Kyungsoo she certainly didn’t point any in your direction. “When did you get back from the trip…or…trips, is it?” 

“God, I feel like I’ve been gone forever. Just got back this morning — didn’t even get a chance to unpack.” Kyungsoo was whining, a soft and gentle complaint on his voice and his focus never once drifted over to where you stood — arms still crossed, standing with your balance shifted over to one hip and then shifting back to the other when your anticipation quietly turned into impatience, and then seemed to be moving into dangerous moods like petulance, bitterness, annoyance that he was just so very good at completely ignoring you. 

“Didn’t even get to see my puppy,” he frowned between complaints. “How’s your mom been? Everyone alright at home?” 

You didn’t even know he had a dog. He’s never mentioned having a puppy. Didn’t people with pets talk about them? Show them off with wide grins and eyes full of love to half interested parties?

The longer you stood directly beside your best friend while being purposefully excluded from the conversation by an overly zealous, rule following man who looked unreasonably, and unbelievably attractive in what should just be a run of the mill black suit and tie, the louder your bored spoiled brat mood and resulting sounds you made about it began to grow until you were sighing dramatically, until you were uncrossing and recrossing your arms, rocking on your feet, shifting around on your ankles, rolling your eyes, and finally, fucking finally, catching someone’s attention. 

It wasn’t Kyungsoo because that man was extremely good at playing his role. He seemed completely immune to anything you did. A master class of indifference. 

That someone who’d had enough was Claire who shot you an admonishing look — not unlike the look a mother might threaten a misbehaving child with — just you wait until we get home, young lady. She motioned dramatically with her eyes that you should behave while she was having a conversation, goddammit, and she would be done when she was done. Yes, even if she was talking and laughing and giggling and catching up with your sworn enemy who would not even look at you once. How was he so good at that? He wouldn’t even look into your eyes when you searched for him — wouldn’t look at how pretty your makeup was today — or how sexy you looked in the black dress. Forget clandestine meetings, or secret touches, the man wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence. 

Claire had looked at you as if you were just supposed to be okay with this. So what if she was even asking if he’d met anyone new, which he denied. An expert at lying. You made a mental note of this troubling detail. Even if she was offering to set him up on another blind date, which he quickly and sweetly declined with some backhanded dig at you like ‘Thank you for offering, ClaireBear, but I don't ever want to go on another blind date, ever again. Never ever, ever.’ He emphasized it in a pretty offensive way that had you feeling personally attacked, as if that vehement denial was only for you. You, the sole reason for the disaster that was the last blind date that Claire had facilitated for him. 

If you had intended to keep your relationship with him a secret from Claire, she seemed to be buying it easily. You had enough of a history at this point that you felt too powerless standing here in front of the two of them to do or say anything too out of character or risk anything that might let the cat out of the bag. All you could do was stand there and pout. 

All you could do was stomp your foot on the floor in front of him and open your stupid mouth and say “Well, I also, never want to go on another blind date. Never. Ever. Ever.” And Claire’s wide embarrassed eyes were on you in shock, but more urgently, Kyungsoo’s focus was pulled down to the floor where you’d clipped the toe of his patent leather dress shoe with one rogue stomp. 

There was the smallest scuff in the leather. A little mark left by your stupid outburst and you gasped out loud, hands over your gaping mouth. 

Offering reparations, seeking forgiveness, your hands, both of them moved toward the man.

Your mouth was already opening for the quick apology. You’d already inhaled the breath you’d need to speak the words and you’d given into a stumble to move closer to him. Your slippery fingertips reached the cuff of his suit jacket and the stiff fabric creased between your thumb and index finger. Standing closer to him now, a clean crisp fragrance danced up to your nose. In your immediate field of vision, independent of the insignificant peripheral view where Claire visibly stiffened on high alert — his soft lips, the movement of his tongue inside of his mouth a split second before his jaw set in hard and his eyes still forced downward, refusing you, fluttered and fought against his iron will. 

All at once, you itched. All at once you ached. Just to touch him, just to squeeze his arm, just to tell him you were sorry you were acting like a child just because he wouldn’t fucking look at you dammit, and you were feeling pretty desperate about it. Just to tell him you loved him and you missed him terribly while he’d been gone and you wished you could just have ten minutes alone with him to hug him and kiss him and just to take back whatever outburst you may have given into just now. 

He faked his own exit. Acting as if he’d perceived some sort of signal, Kyungsoo turned his head to look behind him, nodding his head once and at the same time mumbling, “Oh, that’s my cue,” before turning back to look into Claire’s face, “I’m up, Clairy. Save a dance for me later.” 

You’d recovered yourself by then and dropped your hands at the same time as you felt one of Claire’s hands land over your forearm and not that gently pulled you back a step to stand beside her once again. 

She was nodding. She was agreeing. She was smiling and giving him a raised fist in the air, a cheer or good luck gesture of some kind and he quickly spun on his heels and left. 

Just — left. 

You were being dragged away.

“What is the matter with you,” she whispered harshly under her breath the second he was out of earshot. “I know you hate him, but for the love of God, this is a wedding. We are in public. You looked like you were about to jump him — the patience of a saint.” She was pinching the bridge of her nose. Muttering complaints about your unacceptable behavior to herself. Comparing the man to some holy being for not engaging with a spoiled rotten brat.

“ClaireBear?” You breathed out in frustration. “But that’s my nickname for you.” 

“Listen. Kyungsoo is one of my oldest, dearest friends—” You followed her to stand in some line. The line seemed to be moving slowly and people who emerged were carrying —- ooh drinks. This was a good line to find yourself in. 

“I knew you first and this is a private wedding.” A petulant mumble escaped. You expected some snappy retort from her but she seemed to be staring ahead at the drinks menu, yet something in her focus seemed off. She was pondering something. 

“Actually, now that you mention it, he’s never called me ClaireBear before this. It’s usually just Clairy, E-Claire, Claira-dactyl, Claire-buoyant” 

“Claire-buoyant?”

 “We had swim class in college together.” 

You’d stopped examining the drinks menu and you were looking at the puzzled face of your best friend, feeling just a little bit guilty to realize that nearly every time you mentioned her during your late night phone calls with your boyfriend, you used your favorite nickname for her. 

Kyungsoo must have picked up the new moniker from you. 

“Hey, Claire… about Kyungsoo?” You closed your eyes and you braced yourself, peaking one eye open and finding you had her attention. Could you do it? 

“I think he got ClaireBear from me.”

Your pulse raced inside of your chest. You could feel it with each second that passed and after a few of those seconds with her just staring at you, you broke the eye contact and looked nervously around the space. Behind her, someone was tapping a microphone. Someone with a professional sounding announcer’s voice was introducing the new happy couple who had just entered the vast wedding hall. Your focus behind her made her turn her head just as the opening notes of a romantic ballad began to play and the doors behind you both opened up as the crowd began to clap wildly. Sam and Mari entered, Mari’s big ball gown sparkled and Sam looked stunning in his suit and the song began to play out over the sound of the crowd's cheers. 

It took you a few seconds to realize that someone up on that stage was actually singing. The song wasn’t just a recording created in some studio by professional musicians. The delay in you realizing was simply because of how good they sounded singing this song. You felt drawn to his voice in a way you had genuine trouble explaining, but every note he sang sounded effortlessly beautiful and yet, something in the color of his voice was hitting you right through your chest with how achingly familiar it was. Not only the sound of it, but the feeling of it. 

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, Doh Kyungsoo is not stalking your Instagram. He’s simply too busy, too talented, too desirable to be worried about petty fights with you. Didn’t you see him tonight? He didn’t even react when he saw you. He must have gotten ClaireBear from somewhere else. Hell, maybe he just made it up all on his own.”

“No, Claire, listen to me.” you begged, but her hand was up on your arm, stopping you from talking over the song Kyungsoo was singing up on that stage right now. 

“Shh—”

She had a point in shushing you. Holy shit. You hadn’t heard him before, not like this. You knew he could sing well, but this felt otherworldly. More than just hearing the lyrics come out of him, the way he delivered them made you feel every word he was saying. Every single emotion in the romantic love song sunk in deep. 

The song was building and building and you stepped to the side to be able to see around the crowds of guests. You could feel yourself being drawn in so easily to his voice. For someone with such a low speaking voice he really did sound like some sort of an angel when he slipped into the upper octaves. 

He was magical. There was so much about this man that took your breath away. So much that took your reason and sanity for a spin.

You lost your grip. Only for a moment. You were so far under his spell.

 But that was all it took. A moment.

“Ugh,” a complaint erupted from the back of your throat, “I love him so much.” 

You said it right out loud with your own mouth and after two seconds of the words hanging in the air between you and Claire you actually realized what you had just said. What she had just heard you say. 

She was looking at you, no, staring at you with eyes wide and mouth gaping and you turned to look at her too. You found no handy excuses ready to defend. There was no escaping this.

“Did you —” her words were sticky. The disbelief held on tight as each word tried to leave her mouth, “— just say — that?”

His song was winding down. Claire’s eyes flitted between the two of you, looking into your quiet eyes, devoid of any sort of denial in them, and back up toward the stage where Doh Kyungsoo smiled and extended both of his hands out toward the happy couple, directing the crowds cheers and applause back toward the beautiful newlyweds. Ever the gentleman. Humble, beautiful, spectacular in every way.  

You were no longer lovingly staring at the man on stage as the current crisis took precedent. You felt too defeated to answer her question. You simply closed your eyes, set your jaw hard and nodded your head twice. 

“Are you serious?” She must have seen something in your face; in the defeated way you offered no excuses or denials.

You felt strangely lighter. As if maybe you could get the whole story out without disaster unfolding. 

Her next words took the wind out of your sails.

“You better not be serious.” She was shaking her head, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away from you, her face grave and serious. “Do you even know what it was like for me? Having two of my favorite people in the world hate each other like that? And worse, the whole blind date was my idea. I made both of you completely fucking miserable.  And what? Now you say what?” 

“Claire—” you stepped forward, hands outstretched, pleadingly. This feeling, this was guilt. This was why you’d wanted to be the one to tell her yourself. But now you’d fucked up and chosen a place like this to do it. 

“Wait.” Her hand were up.

“Wait.” Her head was shaking.

“That’s the first time you’ve heard him sing, right?” She was speaking clearly now. Her smile was coming back to her lips and in her eyes was a look of genuine relief, having come to some sort of conclusion all by herself. 

“That’s it. You wouldn't be the first person to think they’ve fallen in love with him after hearing him sing. That’s all it is, dummy.” She was shaking her head back and forth. Her smile was back at full force and she was still talking.

You felt deflated. Dismissed. 

Your shoulders slumped and your hands hung lifelessly at your side. 

Somewhere in your distant vision, you watched Kyungsoo move around the big ballroom; laughing, smiling, enjoying the praise he received for his breathtaking performance. Shaking off compliments with waved hands and a bashful giggle.

“Just…stay single. Trust me. I know how much breakups … suck.” With her next words the smile was long gone. She’d just reminded herself, it seemed and having had a little break from the pain for even a short while made its return that much more unwelcome. You heard her words get stuck in her throat and you saw the flash of the wound, still very fresh, flow over her features. 

You swallowed up whatever else you might have wanted to say on the topic of you and Kyungsoo, admonishing yourself for even thinking you could come clean here, in public. No, you were right to want to wait for a better time. A time when you both were alone and you could be delicate about it. You could apologize earnestly. You could show her that you were absolutely serious about him. You wouldn't jeopardize the friendship they shared. You wouldn’t fuck it up and ruin everything for everybody. 

You caught a reflection of moisture in her eyes. She was blinking faster, trying to get rid of it quickly, trying to push that dark mood deep down inside so it wouldnt ruin the night. You wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed, giving her a bright smile that she sighed and rolled her eyes in response to. You leaned forward and smacked a kiss on her cheek and she laughed and lightly pushed you away. 

“Come on,” you said, not letting go of her despite the playful pushing. “ Let’s forget about those stupid boys and dance. Dance with me. It’s a party.” You steered and you pushed toward the lively thumping music and crowds of people moving together as one. You could tell that a few had already started drinking with how rowdy they’d become and in between jumping and dancing you grabbed two glasses of something fruity looking from a waitress’s tray and you both downed the strong liquid, thankful for the brief respite from reality that it promised. 

You danced and you drank, keeping some your own rules in mind regarding just how much you both were drinking, not wanting her to get sloppy and possibly weepy by overindulging, and you were in caretaker mode a bit more than you would otherwise be, so you kept your alcohol consumption on the tamer side. Still, the liquid moved through you and you leaned in close, letting her know you’d be headed back to the table for dinner soon after a quick stop at the ladies room.

This place was a bit of a maze. It took a few twists and turns to find the ladies’ and the quiet and peace within those doors was a welcome shift from the chaos of the party atmosphere. You washed your hands and laid your cold palms over your cheeks to cool your skin a little and a glance in the mirrors told you that your hair and makeup were holding up well and you still looked hot in this dress — especially the view from behind as you made your way out of the bathroom. 

You made it three steps away from that secluded hallway when you felt a warm hand touch around your wrist and pull gently against you. The surprise made you gasp and spin on your heels. It took your balance for a spin too and you stumbled to catch yourself; falling right into strong arms that quickly wrapped around your waist. 

You heard his giggles first. Good Lord, the sound was like a drug that moved through your veins instantly flooding you with euphoria. The crisp clean smell of him hit you next. Kyungsoo. Your Kyungsoo.

And he was still smiling when your movement settled in front of him, both of your palms laid over the crisp black suit jacket on his chest and his hand hot against the bare skin of your lower back. 

“Hi,” he whispered, his eyes roaming over your face and his cheeks positively pink as he looked at you up close. 

You inhaled a breath and exhaled it slowly in some attempt to calm the racing you felt in your heart to find yourself here, at the end of some secluded hallway off of the edge of the ladies’ bathrooms, finally getting the close up look at his face that you’d been craving all night long. Finally getting to touch him and from that flex of his fingertips that dug into your back that pulled you in tighter against him, you weren’t the only one aching for any sort of contact. 

You managed to mirror his greeting, breathing out your own little, “Hi,” before the air in your too full lungs had to make an exit. You pushed the air out slowly. It was a meager attempt at controlling yourself. Your slow exhale had his eyes looking down at your mouth and his lips twitched. The tip of his tongue slipping over his bottom lip, moistening it and then pulling the soft flesh in between his front teeth.

“Kyungsoo,” you whispered. His eyes pulled back up, an eyebrow bounced lightly over his left eye when you said his name. The giggles were gone. This look was more primal. Definitely not something for you to encourage right here tonight. It was incredible how quickly that shift had happened.

“What are you doing?” It came out breathy and desperate. Betraying some of the weakness you felt with him holding you like this. 

“I saw you dancing. You looked happy,” he said, his eyelids half blinking as he spoke. He felt almost drunk as he spoke to you, but his breath didn’t smell like alcohol at all. He smelled sweet and enticing.

His lips stayed parted and a puff of warm air fanned over your lips, “God. You are so fucking beautiful. I don't know what to do with myself.” 

The words, the candid compliments slash confession coated you — slipping over you — heat moved from the crown of your head and spread; as if his words themselves ran their spindly fingers down the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades and right down below the spot where his hot hand touched your skin. You moved into him —  the length of his body flush with yours.

”Kyungsoo.” This time his name came out as a plea. This man needed to put a stop to this. You felt entirely too weak to resist him. “What … are you … doing?” 

“I know,” he said through his parted lips. He had leaned his face — too close. You felt the pull of air he took from beside your face as he inhaled you. “I know, I know.” He said it again and again, but he wasn’t pushing you away. He didn’t act as if he knew. He continued to pull you against him. You felt the effects of this closeness pressed into your hips. The slight friction built with his pulling building more of that heat. 

His hand’s grip behind your back felt so strong. 

“I wouldn’t be like this …if I saw you first,” he whispered into the spaces between your breaths, “I know, I shouldn’t.”

He wasn’t stopping this madness. He wasn’t pulling his face away from your skin. You felt the tip of his nose nuzzle against your earlobe, breathing in and out. His lips lightly popping against your earring. His mouth opened and pulled your scent over his tongue, into his lungs. 

That warmth you felt building between the two of you was dangerous. You heard his low moan. You felt his mouth open up, his lips parted and the tip of his wet tongue slipped along your skin. 

You responded with a whimper — a cry — a desperate need that overwhelmed you so entirely. That spreading warmth traveled lower, between your legs. Too much. He’d taken you too far. 

Alarm bells rang inside of your head. A light push against his chest told him so and you heard the resulting frustrated, animalistic growl that came out of him. It sounded an awful lot like the same sort of frustration you felt inside of you.  You pushed again, harder this time, a firm hand placed atop his breastplate, his wild heartbeat thrumming beneath the fabric of his crisp white dress shirt. 

You felt him loosen. You felt him give. He had heard and he was stopping. He didn’t want to stop and you didn’t want him to stop, but he was stopping.

You hadn’t even kissed him yet. 

You wanted to. You were close enough to each other for it. Just a lift of your face and…

A sound came from behind you. There was the sound of the ladies’ room door, the hinges had a squeak. It was pulled open and you heard a throat clearing, the kind of throat clearing that was meant to be heard. 

It sent a jolt through you from head to toe and you took a big step back, out of his arms, away from his warmth and tempting lips and pretty face and those dark eyes that hid within so many bad intentions. Your posture looked caught, your head hung down, arms behind your back with your hands clasped firmly together; obviously guilty as hell.

After a few seconds you worked up the nerve to lift your eyes, to turn around and look behind you. 

An old woman stood there; you didn’t know whose grandmother or aunt or mother she might be, but she stood, paused at the doorway, looking at you both with lifted eyebrows and an expression on her face that seemed more amused than admonishing. She shook her head back and forth a few times, clicked her tongue inside of her mouth and pulled the door open further. 

“Ahh. Youth,” she mused out loud before she disappeared through the doorway. 

It was a close call. It was stupid. Even standing here so close to him was stupid. What if one of your friends saw this and rumors got back to Claire. 

You looked back into his face and he had a sheepish look there. His lips moved and he chewed somewhere inside of his lip, a habit he had when he was feeling just a little uncomfortable. 

“I’m going back now,” you said, giving him a warning before you abruptly left this dangerous spot. 

He nodded his head; a shrugging expression touching upon his face. 

You’d taken another step toward the exit of this hallway, turning around to look back at him once more while you still could and in your double take you caught the drift of his eyes down your back. 

“Indifference,” you said as a farewell. He smiled a dreamy smile in response and nodded his head in understanding. He wouldn’t let you down. 

The wait staff was beginning their dinner service. You’d welcome the distraction food might bring to your overstimulated body and you weaved through the big round tables and floral arrangements to find your table. Claire was already seated and her eyes smiled to see you coming back to her side. The seating arrangements had you seated on the other side of Claire and Eric and you grabbed the name place with that name and quickly crumbled it up into a ball and tossed it away. Waitstaff were filling glasses with water, wine, sodas, and plates of food were pushed out on carts by caterers. 

“Nothing for this seat, they aren’t coming,” you motioned toward the empty seat beside you where you’d originally been seated that was now empty.

The waitress looked down in interest at the vacant spot and she reached down into her pocket to pull out a remote control. 

“Empty at 4,” she spoke into the mic and her little device crackled out a “10-4, be right there,” in response. 

The voice on the other end of that radio belonged to one of the coordinators of this grand event. A woman wearing a clean business suit wearing a pleasant smile on her face approached the table, apologizing for the intrusion and sweetly asking if we had any objections to one more guest being added to our table. It seems that some folks two tables up did not rsvp, pushing some single guest out of their spot. 

Of course, not a person at your table had any objections to adding to the mix. This was a party. Any friend of Sam and Mari was welcome to celebrate the happy couple here at your table. 

You really should have known. 

The universe seemed to have become predictable at this point. 

A few moments later, the fateful guest arrived by your side. Pulling the chair out with his familiar fingers and sitting his butt down directly beside you, close enough for you to feel the warmth arm through the crisp fabric of black suit. Close enough for that clean fragrance he wore to waft into your nose, a scent that hadn’t yet faded from your nose; you’d just had him in your arms mere moments ago. You still felt the flush all over your body from the effects of him.

Mr. Indifference himself unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat down, straightened his neck tie so it pointed straight down between his parted legs and opened his eyes on you. Then he opened his mouth to speak, not to you, but through you; to the woman who sat on your other side. Kyungsoo looked into your shocked face as he spoke to her.

“Thanks for letting me sit at your table, ClaireBear.”

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Rat Bastard Masterlist

[uncanny-tranny]

Shoutout to all the other adults who have acne or any other condition of the skin that you are expected to outgrow or "just deal with."

Adulthood isn't this magical time where everything just disappears, and the reality is that these skin conditions are largely genetic. It isn't your fault (nor your skin's fault) that you are an adult with different skin than other people. In fact, it's neutral (and even, dare I say, good!).

[moeblob]

I unfortunately picked up Bravely Default 2 again (I bought it back when it released) and then started over since I last played it in June 2021. And. You know what. I like these silly beans. And then I saw concept art for Dag's expressions and I am not the same. Why did they decide to give him huge fangs in it.

(also I'm trying so hard to avoid spoilers less for plot but more for characters so if you know anything that happens to characters shhhhh. also the expression concept is below the read more so you can see what I mean.)

[moe-broey]

Fellas can you take this somewhere else. Maybe. Just not in the fucking halls. Thanks 🫡

I couldn't resist drawing out these tags I wrote on a dif post LMFAO

Moe just has...... SO many problems.......

Close-ups of my fave shots!

The elusive Líf...

[out-of-characters]

Me: hmmm, have I ever written Emil experiencing phantom pains?

Emil: ...

Me: :)

Emil: stop shaking my tupperbox >:(

Me: >:)

[quetiapinnapark]

idk what happened but i went to a show last saturday and hung out with so many conventionally normal looking upper middle class people and that has got me questioning my hotness WHICH MAKES NO SENSE because for months I've been feeling like the sexiest weirdest bitch that has ever stepped on earth like literally not comparing myself to ppl but just Knowing im the Pretty 24/7

[dante-mightdie]

so let me share something with you guys for a second

(nsfw)

ghost is hot, right? we all know that. picture him always having someone sneaking out his room during unsocial able hours, shushes and clattering of buckles hitting the floor as his latest hookup creeps back down the halls to the cold barracks

and you, the awkward recruit with a fat crush on your lieutenant who envys every person who shamelessly shoots their shot with him and succeeds. letting him make a mess out of them for one night only

and it is always one night only

no same person has ever left his room twice, nothing more than a cheap hookup to him. you know you wouldn’t be any different, shown the door before you can even get your cargos zipped back up but if it meant at least one night with simon riley, you really didn’t care

but when it’s finally your turn? when you finally drink up enough courage to speak to the brooding man in the corner nursing his own drink in the corner of the bar, it turns out he didn’t even know your name

but that’s okay, it’s not like he was gonna be your future husband anyway so you power through. pull out all the charisma you have stored away for moments like this and you soon find yourself back in his room, making a complete fool of yourself

struggling to unbuckle his belt, biting down too hard on his lip during the, quite frankly, terrible make-out session that led up to your current situation, responding to his dirty talk with blinded stutters

and when he finally pulls out his cock? you’re too nervous to relax, and it doesn’t fit. before he can give you some half-assed ‘s’alright, love. another time, yeah?’, you’re shoving him off and rushing out his room before you can even get yourself fully-dressed

for weeks, you avoid him. at least, that’s what he calls it. you didn’t consider it avoidance under the assumption that he had no intentions of pursuing you again

simon was under the same assumption, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you. every hook-up leading up to you was a performance, an act he completed as some odd way of reminding himself that he was still, in fact, human

your heated cheeks and scrunched nose every time you fumbled was strangely refreshing to simon, a friendly reminder that not everything needed to be so serious, so professional. maybe the humanising act could be an experience instead, he thinks as he reaches for his phone

that night had been keeping you up for weeks, replaying every stupid way you messed up the thing you had been thinking about since you laid eyes on simon

and then your phone pings. from an unknown number.

‘price is off base. come to my room and I’ll make it fit this time.’

[ruesol]

Older boyfriend Price who is absolutely DISTRAUGHT over the fact that you don’t care about marriage because you think he’s over it.

Note: this one has no smut but it has mentions of sex and sexual relations so interact at your own discretion.

Masterlist

“What the fuck do you mean by you don’t want to?” If Price had been any louder, anyone outside his car would’ve been able to hear him.

It had been a few months into your relationship with Price after almost a year of being friends with benefits. You weren’t sure how your arrangement changed over time but you were glad to be with him as he valued you a lot.

“I mean, think about it. You’re like, what? 40-“

“I’m 37, love”

“Right, yeah, I just think that it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re having fun together. Honestly, I thought you’d agree,” you said before taking a bite out of your burger.

Price could only watch you in shock. Sure, your relationship started on the basis of sexual benefits but when he did think of the future all he thought of was you. Even if you were a generation younger than him, he had never felt such synergy with anyone before. It was a connection of a lifetime - emotional and sexual.

“So you don’t give a shit about marriage because you think I don’t care about it.”

“Kind of. If I’m gonna get married I need my partner to be on board too, don’t you think?” He sighed at your reply. You looked up at him, confused and cheeks full with your dinner as you grabbed the plastic cup of coke.

His heart swelled at the sight. It was like looking at an innocent chipmunk. To think that the same face looked fucked out an hour ago awed him but he couldn’t let himself get distracted by your unintentional seduction.

He grabbed your drink and put it back in the cupholder. You were about to whine but he grabbed your face and pulled you close, noses almost touching.

“You—“ peck “—are the most wonderful thing to happen to me and I’ll be damned if I don’t tie you down with me in the future.”

Your face heated up. You had swallowed your food not too long ago but your mouth felt like it had gone dry.

With your face in his hands he continued. “I’ll have a rock on your pretty little finger before you know it.” He left a longer peck on your lips this time and pulled away.

What you didn’t know was that he already had a ring for you. It was stored away in a hidden drawer in his desk, waiting to be worn by you.

In fact, he had brought it just a month into your relationship. He wasn’t religious but he knew that a person like you was the blessing of a lifetime.

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.