#He's confessing his undying love to Fit at the moment

[dnalt-d2]

So I missed the beginning of Phil's stream today and I gotta say I wasn't expecting the shit that Quackity keeps saying holy SHIT????

[fauustic]

loved your bubble bath fic! can i make a request about miguel and reader who’s always doing favors for him (ex: bringing him lunch, patching him up after a rough night of fighting crime, checking up on him) and he tries to figure out why they’re doing this bc he thinks he’s a freak bc of his powers, until reader just confesses their undying love for him?

i hope i did this one justice! thank you for the request, anon!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst, comfort. miguel, unable to accept his changed self, runs into you.

warnings: newly genetically altered miguel, intense insecurity and self-consciousness on his end. use of "freak" as self-depreciation. spanish may be iffy, not the best so i had little help with a translator :)

word count: 4291

Miguel liked the apartment he found himself in, low-key and hidden away from most of the hustle and bustle of the city. The complex was barely busy, except the few residential college students just looking for a place with cheap rent and the couple drunk office-workers who drag themselves to their apartment late every-night.

Having his senses genetically evolved, he couldn’t exactly fight himself when it came to being observant. Miguel would accidentally eavesdrop on work conversation, learning rather disgusting secrets of his co-workers with a sneer before trying his best to cover his ears subtly. The rare moments he was walking along the street alone, he’d hear passing comments that would normally flatter him, but hearing it from hushed strangers made him feel a gross way. Like he was intruding beyond boundaries. Learning things he shouldn’t by accident made him feel like a social monster.

Miguel knew almost everything going on around him. So when he was able to pick up on the clink of keys jingling into the presumably-empty apartment right next to it, Miguel wasn't exactly curious about the new neighbor– if anything he was a bit irritated. Knowing he'd have to suffer through days due to your chores, or the clanging of pots around every dinner, it made him feel more of a freak. No one else had to deal with such problems, so the newfound issues arising ever since the incident of quite literally getting his genetics flipped upside down– it made his skin crawl and heart ache. 

He would continue to suffer in quiet, claws digging into his pillow in a fit of agitation. Miguel will continue trying to live his life, and as you will yours.

It took weeks to finally run into you, as he stepped out of his own apartment and you were entering yours. It was a complete fluke, as Miguel began growing accustomed to wearing earbuds and turning on an easy-listening playlist to try and drown out the noises that normally put him so on edge.

He was locking his apartment before finally noticing your figure standing in your own doorway, a smile on your lips so genuine he almost was stunned. A welcoming neighbor in the city of Nueva York? Completely unheard of, quite frankly, it may even be considered suspicious.

The moment Miguel slipped off one of the earbuds, your voice met his eardrums in a way he's never heard anyone before. Usually, Miguel would gain a migraine after conversation with others. He's not used to his powers yet, and as much as it made him feel as if he was just some animal, the case didn't arise with you.

Smiling with sincerity, you held out your hand for him to take in a greeting. "Hi! I was wondering if I moved next to someplace haunted.." It was obviously a joke, yet when Miguel hadn't reacted you felt the need to explain in a much more awkward tone. "I suppose I just would hear some rummaging over on your side, but not a single person ever stepped foot out until now! Thought I was just hearing things." You giggled, rubbing the back of your neck while your other still hung with anticipation.

Miguel felt a subtle smile sneak itself onto his own features, before firmly shaking your hand back. "Ah, I hope you've been settling in well. Welcome to Nueva City, it's a pleasure to meet you." He wasn't necessarily trying to be awkward, it's just he technically does work all day, goes home, and then proceeds to pummel the absolute shit out of criminals corrupting the city. Miguel has lost a touch of charisma when it comes to new people, his usual way of conservating was from whoever was on the opposing side of his fists. A silence loomed over the two of you before you perked up, giving him a "hold on, there's something I have for you," before disappearing within your apartment. 

Confusion etching his consciousness, Miguel shifted on his feet. "What?" He huffed out. Guilt seeped into his thoughts, why are you the one giving a gift? Shouldn't he be the one to bring a house-warming present?

Miguel shook his head, easily brushing off your antics with an excuse of you "being nice, wanting a friend close by." He practically chuckled at the idea, Miguel wasn't the type to befriend off a whim, as much as he hated it he knew he was played a tough facade for those around him. It was difficult to break that barrier as he didn't trust others well, let alone allow an opportunity to accidentally reveal his monstrous features to a civilian.

His doubts were interrupted with a light giggle from that melodious voice of your's, a nervous bounce in your step as you held out tupperware for him. It was nothing too big, only enough for a meal, but the warmth in his hands rendered him shell-shocked. Growing flustered, he opened his mouth to ask what this was before you quickly answered before the words tumbled off his lips. 

"It's nothing special, I was just making some good ol' chicken alfredo pasta last night and had some leftover." You explained with a flurry of nervous hand gestures, catching Miguel's gaze. He found himself studying you excessively, the idea of eating a home-cooked meal for the first time that week had his mouth watering. "Since we never catch each other, I thought your schedule may not allow you to have a good meal every once and a while." Miguel couldn't deny that the idea made his chest bloom with a painful tenderness despite just thinking how he wouldn't cave easily for you. 

He didn't deserve this normalcy from you. He didn't deserve this meal from someone like you, sweet and caring and human. As much as a voice whispered to him to open up, to accept this because he needed such kindness– Miguel shut his brain off as he met your own stare. 

You were messing with a bracelet on your wrist with a downturned frown and a nervous glint in your eyes due to his abrupt silence. He perked up once realizing the anxiety was because of him, because of his reaction.

"This is.. very nice of you." Miguel confessed stiffly, unsure how to exactly react because he's not used to gifts. "Thank you..?" 

You blurted your name out clumsily as he trailed off, and Miguel just couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his lips. It was nothing like the chuckle before, he felt happiness explode through his chest at the simple sight of you joining him. 

"Thank you," Repeating your name, he caught the wobble of your smile when it purred off his tongue. His words were more genuine as the tension from before loosened. Miguel's gaze dropped from his next lunch to your hands, in which he couldn't help but squeeze them both in a reassuring manner. It may have been difficult with the tupperware sandwiched between his arm and hip, but he was determined to express his gratitude in a friendly manner. He knew he was acting a bit weird, but he truly was trying to hold it together. 

"Miguel, Miguel O'hara." He finally introduced himself, almost wanting to slap his cheek over stupidly waiting so long to do so. But you just giggled, and the squeeze he felt on both his hands washed away any thoughts his insecurities infected him with. "So nice to meet you, Miguel." What an angel, un ser celestial he couldn't help the thought.

Your phone erupted through the comfortable silence that enveloped over the two of you, and with an apologetic glance you signalled you had to go. Before finally picking up your phone, you quickly sputtered out "have a good day at work!"

For the first time since his incident, he felt normal. The lighthearted conversation, the look of joy directed towards him in contrast to the usual fear. It fueled something inside him, a yearning for more.

Miguel, for the first time in so many years, looked forward to a day in the lab because of some chicken alfredo pasta. It was stupid, he knew that.

But as his tongue met the noodles later that shift, which were seasoned just right, accompanied with a tender, grilled slab of chicken– Miguel almost fell out on the floor of his lab. He had never missed home-cooked dishes more than now after finally getting a taste of your recipe. 

Stabbing another forkful, he wondered why you didn't just keep the rest of it for yourself.

A full week passed until a light knock and ring to his doorbell met the dimly lit room.

He couldn't withstand bright lights, especially the overhead light of his apartment. Miguel's eyesight still was trying to get used to the sharpness, the ability to track a motion muscle by muscle. It was a blessing, being able to to spearhead figures in the dark– but lights enraged migraines he couldn't shake off for days. 

Wincing as he dodged his suit lamely bundled on the floor of his apartment, Miguel couldn't help but hiss when his nose scrunched the wrong way. The stench of blood flooded his senses, the black eye forming tingling with pain. He was exhausted, and ready to tell off whoever decided to ring him this late into the hour.

What he didn't expect to see was you, standing in the doorway with a sleepiness to your expression as your pajamas hung loosely to your form. In your hands, this time, was a tray of cookies that looked as if they just left the oven. "Hey there, neighbor," you giggled with a tired haze in your tone, shifting your attention from your slippers to his own eyes. 

Yet, after a few seconds of your eyes adjusting to the darkness, you were able to make his injuries out with a surprised gasp. The silly greeting was forgotten as quickly as it came, you demanded answers as the light from your own apartment seeped into his. Miguel's shock at seeing you up this late easily allowed you to push past him, laying the cookies down on the nearest counter you found. 

"Miguel, what is wrong with your face?" You whispered with sadness, your grasp finding purchase on his cheeks. He couldn't bear this proximity with you, so he quickly pushed the advancement aside before trying to conjure up any excuse he could make.

"I had– a–" He sighed a huff of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose in habit. But the gesture was quickly ruined with his own whine of pain, something he didn't want you to hear at all. "I had a fight at work, okay?" Miguel hisses through fangs, yet they didn't catch your attention due to the chaos of suddenly finding "Well-Kept, Awkward Chemist Guy" with a bloodied nose and a bruising eye. "I didn't expect it, ya know? El científico loco. Took a few swigs of a sample and that went wrong. Was caught in the crossfire."

He hadn't realized you had wandered off, rampaging through his bathroom for medical supplies until you came back with the items in hand. "Go on, sit down." You ordered, and with confusion etched all over his face, Miguel couldn't allow himself to disobey.

The apartment, dark with the exception of a few neon lights peeking through the big windows every now-and-then, stayed silent except for the few "be quiets" in response to Miguel's hisses and muffled groans. He hated being so vulnerable in front of someone he knew so little of, which led him to bring out the question that's been on the tip of his tongue this entire time. He shuffled nervously in his seat that you led him to minutes ago as you stood in between his legs with a focused expression resting on your features.

But you beat it to him first. As your hands skillfully bandaged wounds littering his skin, one one his shoulder and a few other on his back, your solemn tone broke through Miguel's guilt like a talon against prey.

"I know that story you made up was utter bullshit,"

"What-"

"No, you listen to me O'Hara." You tutted, as stern as he's ever heard you. "I'm not asking for excuses, or an entire story that's a lie. I asked what happened because I was worried, I'm not mad." 

Miguel's breathing hitched, looking at his nails that briefly unsheathed into claws before he was able to control his panicked shame. "Why?" He couldn't help but mumble, "why are you worried? You have no right to be, no somos nada el uno para el otro. Nothing is between us, you should have left the moment you saw." Miguel avoided your eyes that peered into his soul like you knew his secret, could read him inside out. Tears he didn't know he could produce clouded his vision, deeply moved from the drop of kindness you've granted him. 

You sighed, heavy and lingering. Words were left unspoken as he was drawn into a hug by your arms, in which he greedily returned with his own hold.

Miguel fought within himself constantly, the idea of being accepted for his differences was completely foreign to him. But here you were, denying every thought he's ever had about himself. And you didn't even, truly know him. 

"Don't cry," You murmured into his curls as you pet the back of his head before returning to applying a new, medicated bandaid on his nose. Swiping away tears as you brushed away dried blood, Miguel would choke out a "I don't deserve this, I don't," before being promptly cut off with a flurry of reassurance.

By the end of the night, Miguel allowed himself to be led to his bed by you, exhaustion evident within his walk as you had to help keep him steady.

It was nauseating, seeing Miguel in such a broken state. It made you wonder if he sat in his apartment, wallowing in his own mind. You had no idea what he was going through, but you were determined to keep him grounded.

That night, as Miguel was tucked into bed by you like a sick child, you vowed to try to be there more for the man you developed a genuine attraction to over the weeks of small chit chat.

The little shame he held close to his heart washed away with ease as throughout the upcoming weeks, your visits would become more frequent, showering him in little trinkets you'd pass by in the city that "reminded you of him" and homemade goodies. 

Miguel just couldn't bring himself to understand why you put in such an effort to include him in your routine, to keep him, a man in pieces that just coincidentally was your neighbor, in your life.

As many times as you halted his vague little ramblings of "I do not deserve this, I truly don't, pequeño panadero," he had this mentality rammed within his brain that he just couldn't shake. Something that made no sense because he just couldn't open up to you.

After a bad run-in with a lowly villain, Miguel groaned every time his form landed on another building to climb. His features threatened to frown at his awareness, the absurdity of it all. Here he was, digging talons into metal beams to scale skyscrapers with another set of nasty scratches and bloodied knuckles. What the fuck? Tonterías. 

Miguel was having such difficulty coming to terms with his new lifestyle as he pushed himself to continue without a break, the only bits and pieces of clarity was with you. 

Everytime you two met, you always had some sort of sweet or delicious tray of food that could might as well be a contestant for a national baking competition. He would tell himself not to eat it, it would be dumb to open that door of craving more, but Miguel always caved as the scent of freshness wafted throughout his apartment in the hours he was alone.

He fell in love with every sugary cookie you conjured with care, and every noodle dish that slowly shifted to recipes he's never heard of.

Why were you doing such things? Miguel would ask himself with a palm dragging over his face, earbuds softly echoing that playlist he can't seem to escape. He was a monster, a tailored man overcome by science. He hated who he became against his will, drowning out such vile insecurities with the nights of being Spiderman 2099. 

Muttering under his breath, he swung through the balcony of his apartment with a soft thud, ripping the mask off his face with a relieved sigh. 

Miguel felt so disconnected to himself, when he heard a muffled "Miggy..?" reach his ears his blood ran cold and every one of his senses was on fire. He froze, looking around at the home he found himself in– a bit cosier than his one and filled with the most enticing scents. He saw white for just a moment, his legs dead with anxiety as your voice– less groggy and more aware now– continued to try and catch his attention.

This was not his bedroom, which was empty for the most part except essentials, this was your bedroom. And the realization smashing his brain, rattled him to an extent that he felt a whole new kind of fear. Nothing he's ever experienced out in the city, under the guise that he was simply just a superhero. No one truly knew he was a genetically engineered monster, and yet he was so mindless that the truth is now revealed to the one person who put up with him.

Your light graze met his suited shoulder, leading him to sit down on the edge of your bed in his daze. You were silent, he knew that much despite feeling as if he was drowning underwater.

You went to work on patching up the blemishes upon his jaw, most likely a right hook he couldn't dodge in time causing the damage. His attention was in a whole different dimension, but as your free hand led his chin up to your own eyes, an expression you've never seen from his cold exterior crushed every piece of your soul. Miguel was in pain, both physically and mentally.

His eye, which was just finally healing from the other night, twitched ever so slightly as if tears threatened to fall. You never knew he would be so emotional, but obviously there was more to him that meets the eye.

"Why are you doing this, ángel?" He mumbled, scarlet gaze piercing your own. They were hazy, as if he was struggling to stay in the present. He was too caught up in his own mind he began rambling little by little, venom dripping from his tongue when referencing himself. "Soy el diablo reencarnado, I'm a disgusting animal." He spat with tears falling, your gentle fingertips working on both dabbing ointment and his tears away without a word. When the atmosphere was only silence, he couldn't help but express more of what he was thinking.

"I am not what you think I am." He choked down a gasp of air, his hold digging into your sides in desperation. "I don't deserve this kindness, I'm vile. A freak," Tone rough and full of self-depreciation, he kept his head fixated towards you standing between his legs. "All these gifts, delicacies that you've flooded my home with– you've given them away to an absolute freak. Una bestia repugnante. You carded your fingers through his tousled, dampened with sweat curls with a soft smile which almost sent Miguel downward into another spiral of doubt if you hadn't begun talking.

As he subconsciously leaned into your loving pets upon his scalp and fluttering eyes, you couldn't help but utter a nervous laugh with a twisted feeling in your gut.

"Miguel, you stupid, stupid man." You couldn't help but coo, as his eyes peeled open in an instant. But you continued before he could sputter more nonsense.

"I–" You squeezed your eyes shut as nervousness almost halted your advancements, but you pushed through as Miguel's grasp around your hips tightened in his own anticipation. "I've never viewed you as someone disgusting."

"Because you've never been exposed to the truth–"

"Because I just see a man who needs help. A space to feel safe." You sighed, leaning down to his level as your hands trailed from his curls to his cheeks. You held onto his skin with a firm, but loving touch that he practically melted into. A sob erupted through his throat, followed with a purr of comfort.

"You don't think I'm asqueroso? ¿Un error de un hombre?" He murmured, desperation in his voice. Pleading for your validation as if he's waited all his life for this.

You sighed for the millionth time that night, trying to relieve yourself of stress. Before you could stop yourself, Miguel was pulled into your embrace, his head meeting your chest. He snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around your waist without a second thought. Nails tracing shapes through your thin shirt, he breathed in deeply. He basked in the comfort of your smell, choking up at the acceptance he's finally been craving.

Miguel's grown quite attached to you throughout the weeks of your favors as much as he tried to deny the advancements in secret. His head buzzed with the idea of you when his thoughts grew too overwhelming in the dead of night, wishing to hear the melody of your voice that is his only medicine to calm down. 

The next words that tumbled from your exasperated lips shocked the both of you.

"I love you." 

He almost broke his neck trying to meet your gaze. "¿Qué estás diciendo?" He laughed stiffly, not believing his ears.

You repeat yourself, force beneath your words to try and drill it into his head. "Miguel, I know this is cliche and stupid and unbelievable–"

You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself to remain level-headed. You wouldn't know what to do if the man you've pined for rejected you.

"I give you my favorite cookies because I keep you in my mind while making them, wishing you were right next to me while I bake." You confessed, cheeks growing hot at finally saying the thought aloud. 

"I don't give you lunch everyday because I have some leftover. I do it because I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself enough." You began wiping away his tears as your confessions filled the night air, words he never expected to hear because of who he came to be.

"I do all these things because I'm," You leaned in, bringing your voice to a whisper in fear of getting rejected. "I'm in love with all of you, whether it be the little rambles you find yourself in or the fangs you try to hide from other's eyes. You have consumed my every thought, the favors I did because I was worried turned into favors I wanted to do because of the way your lips quirked up as you held onto the gifts like a lifeline." 

Miguel laughed, a real airy laugh that squeezed through his teeth like it pained him. The warmth of his breath fanned your lips as you held his face, and as his tearful gaze darted to your mouth and back to your eyes, you knew exactly what left his tongue next.

"Please.. please can I kiss you, cariño?" It was like a ticking time bomb.

You couldn't even cry out, "yes, please– anything–" before his lips were on yours, heated and sloppy as if he's been thinking about this for weeks. His fingers slipped under your shirt, to knead into the flesh of your sides, dangerously close to the mounds of flesh he rested upon before. 

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, which he eagerly swallowed before wincing as a shock of pain shot through his jaw.

You immediately separated from his lips, a string of saliva left in its wake. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you strain yourself–" you began to apologize, before he snatched your face up with frantic carefulness and stole another needy kiss. 

This time, the pace was slower, less wild and more sensual. He panted into your mouth, licking into it before finally separating on his own terms before dragging his fangs down your lower lip. 

Miguel sighed, forehead resting upon yours as the both of you tried to catch your breath. "Gracias mi ángel. Thank you for showing me, for showing me what I needed."

You nodded, eyes fluttering close in newfound sleepiness. "Stay the night, please." You couldn't help but ask, and Miguel took the offer the moment it escaped your thoughts.

"Let me go get a change of clothes–" He gestured at the suit he was still wearing, "and I'll be back before you know it, cariño." 

Laughing and giving him one last peck, you sent him off on his way. "If you don't come back, you're going to be missing out on some homemade pancakes in the morning." You teased, pride swelling when you caught his soft flustered chuckle.

"I would never miss such an offer for the world." Was the last thing Miguel purred before tugging his mask on in one swoop and jumping from your balcony. 

The last thing you remember as sleep began to take over was the divet next to you in the bundle of blankets and sheets; a pair of marred arms pulling you into a warm chest. Breath fanning your ear, Miguel's own sleepy whisper lulled you to sleep.

"I love you more." He murmured, "absolutely adore you cariño."

[captainwans]

I BET YOU LOOK GOOD ON THE DANCEFLOOR.

— ALEX TURNER

pairing: fetus! alex turner x fem! actress! reader

summary: following a brief and hurried exchange between the pair, she returned to the old pub in hopes of seeing him once more.

warning: vulgar language, sickeningly teeth-rotting fluff, ryan being an ass, and paparazzi being the paparazzi.

note: this is part two from old pubs and cigarettes, and i suggest you to read the first part before reading this! ryan is a fictional character that’s apart of the story if anyone is confused.

word count: 4,9k | ( picture not mine! )

arabella series!

masterlist!

….  [Y/N] WATCHED THE EMPTY STAGE WITH ANTICIPATION, EXCITEMENT FILLING INSIDE HER BODY AS SHE EAGERLY WAITED FOR THE CUTE, LONG-HAIRED MUSICIAN TO ENTER THE STAGE. It was such a shame that she never got to know his name, and she was still fuming over how her best friend interrupted their moment. She could still feel how his hot breath fanned her face, the smell of cigarettes and mint lingering in the air as she looked into his sweet brown eyes gazing into hers. She couldn’t stop thinking of him. The look on his face, when they had to leave the pub from the paparazzi, left a deep scar on her heart. His kind smile and his understanding nature made her guilty for leaving him on the spot. She remembered throwing a fit in the car that night as they were heading back to their trailers, angry and flustered at how their interaction went.

     [Y/N] slapped her best friend’s arm, which earned a small yelp from the strawberry blonde. She watched her hiss in pain before she mirrored her actions by slapping her shoulders, looking at her with a look of confusion. “What the fuck was that for?” Cindy chided with furrowed eyebrows, rubbing small circles on her arm to cease some of the pain.

     [Y/N] rolled her eyes, rubbing her shoulder as she looked at her with a glare. “You know why,” she growled at the burning pain on her shoulder, grimacing as she clenched her jaw.

     “Oh, thank you so much, Cindy, for saving us from the paps. Thank you for looking out for me. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you. You’re welcome by the way.” Cindy said in a dramatic tone, returning the same glare she was receiving before throwing her magazine at her. “Bitch, please. You’re over here moping over a guy that you just met. The paps almost knocked Vera outside while you were playing hide the zucchini with your rockstar boyfriend.” 

     [Y/N] scoffed, folding her arms in front of her chest, and shaking her head. “Thank you….” she ended up saying in a sweet tone, earning a satisfied grin on Cindy’s face. “For ruining my chance with him.” she finished her sentence, watching her friend’s face falter and morphing into a scowl. 

     “So, what are you gonna do? Go back to him and confess your undying love for him.” Cindy asked with a giggle, earning another slap on her thigh making her laugh even harder. “He was very cute by the way, I’ll give you that, babe.” 

     [Y/N]’s cheeks flushed, feeling blood rushing through her ears at the mention of the musician. “I heard they were having another gig at the same pub. They’re performing next weekend and we’re not filming on Saturday, so..” she answered with a pleading look, making Cindy let out a sigh before nodding her head. 

     As the days passed, with [Y/N] counting the days for the weekend, the day finally arrived and here she was,  seated at a table near the front stage alongside Cindy and her other two co-stars. Another band was performing earlier, which got everyone talking, especially the girls. Two of [Y/N]’s friends left their table to interact with two of the members, leaving her and the strawberry blonde alone, not impressed by their performance and their attitude at all. 

     [Y/N] cringed at one of their attempts to flirt with her friend and scoffed with a deep scowl, before moving her gaze to her best friend. “Let’s hope they stay away from us,” she said in a small voice, but Cindy heard her regardless, earning a small snicker. 

     “I think we’re too late for that,” Cindy answered with an amused look on her face, her eyes looking at one of the members nearing their table. She grimaced, watching him eying up and down at her friend, making her narrow her eyes at him as he introduced himself to them.

     “Ladies.” One of the vocalists greeted the duo with a smirk plastered onto his face, causing [Y/N] to stifle back a laugh bubbling inside her throat. He presented himself as Ryan and she watched him inching closer to her, placing himself in the middle of the girls, causing Cindy to scoff under her breath. He gave her a charming smile, completely ignoring her friend. “Did you enjoy the concert, love?” he asked cockily, head tilted to the side as he looked at her, his eyes trailing down her figure. 

     “We did in fact, not enjoy the concert, Ryan. I mean, I’ve seen better.” her best friend interjected, eyes glaring daggers at his back with a scowl.

     Ryan rolled his eyes, shifting in his feet to turn to Cindy. “I wasn’t talking to you.” he shot, giving her a look before turning his attention back to [Y/N], who was looking at him with a deep frown. 

     She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms before her chest. “Just like my friend said, I’ve seen better.” she simply replied with a fake smile, causing him to scoff under his breath, his smirk turning wider.

     “God, with you Americans, it’s so hard to please.” 

     [Y/N] gave him a dirty look, her face faltering as she watched him utter last his words. Just as she was about to put him in his place, the sound of a microphone dropping down the floor caused her attention to quickly avert away from the guy toward the stage. A soft smile crept upon her face, watching the musician she longed for all week, standing a few feet away from the stage. This left the perfect opportunity for Cindy to drag Ryan by his shirt and push him to the side. “This asshole, who does he think he is?”

     She hummed, not paying attention to what her friend said as she was too busy gazing at the cute guy who had been haunting her mind all week. Her eyes sparked, noticing that he cut his hair, but his hair locks were still slightly covering his face and she thought he couldn’t look any more handsome. Crimson danced across her cheeks and she could feel her heart fluttering, watching him fiddling with the microphone before he placed his guitar around his shoulders.

     “Pretty boy cut his hair!” She heard Cindy yell, gushing at his new hairstyle with a beam, nudging her friend’s side. [Y/N] giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. “Shut up, Cindy. I think he heard you!” she laughed, watching his head snap toward the comment, his eyes darting across the crowd before his eyes finally landed on the pair, cheeks reddening as he noticed their presence, his eyes lingering longer on [Y/N]. 

     [Y/N] gave him a sweet smile, bringing her hand up to give him a wave, to which he responded with a shy nod, his smile turning wider. She gave him a thumbs up, mouthing good luck before taking a seat at their table. He gave her a grateful look, gripping his guitar tightly before moving his eyes away from the actress toward the crowd, which was rather dead and not interacting, being too busy interacting with the other band who dominated the pub, leaving the second group dumbfounded. 

     Alex had a tight grip on his microphone, bringing his lips closer to the mic. He turned to quickly glance at Matt and Andy before clearing his throat, causing the crowd to quiet down as everyone acknowledged the second band. “Hi….so, uh–we’re the Arctic–” the musician introduced themselves, but were abruptly interrupted by Ryan, who seemed to find himself standing close to the girls. 

     “Losers!” Ryan shouted with a laugh and threw his empty cup on the stage, hitting Alex on the chest. This caused some of the people in the crowd to join his banter. Jamie cursed under his breath, feeling his nostrils flare with anger as he looked at him with a glare. “Oh, fuck off, Ryan!”

     [Y/N] felt her blood boil, anger coursing through her veins as she, along with Cindy, whirled their head toward him with a glower. “Shut up, Ryan!” they both said in unison, and Cindy stood up from her seat to grab the empty cup away from the stage. She threw the cup toward Ryan, the cup hitting his face making [Y/N] stifle back a laugh. “Go and fool around elsewhere, asshole. Some of us are trying to enjoy a concert.” 

     Ryan balled his fists, nostrils flaring as he looked at Cindy. He felt everyone’s eyes looking at him, waiting in anticipation of what he was about to do next. He clenched his jaw and turned around, meeting [Y/N]’s face. She gave him a sweet smile. “You heard her,” she said with a knowing look, earning a few cheers from her girlfriends as they watched him leave the pub.

     The crowd started to quiet down, everyone watching Ryan’s body disappear in the crowd, completely forgetting about the second band that was supposed to perform. Cindy and [Y/N] high-fived each other, sauntering over to their table. The actress made eye contact with Alex, who mouthed a thank you, gently smiling at the woman making her mirror his smile as she brushed it off with a hand gesture. 

     [Y/N] looked at the crowd, sharing a look with Cindy before clapping her hands to earn everyone’s attention. Some of them softly gasped, recognizing the woman while the others looked at her with a curious look. She smiled brightly at everyone before turning her gaze toward the band. “By all means, please continue boys!” She beamed with a cheer, earning a few whistles and claps. “Who are you guys?”

     Alex grinned at her question, licking his lips before speaking into the microphone. “We’re the Arctic Monkeys, everyone!” he finally introduced themselves, making the girls loudly cheer, warming up the crowd. She could feel them stiff during the first part of the song but got quickly used to it, making her clap her hands as she cheered. She and her friend moved in their seat, bumping their shoulders together while bopping their head to the sound.

     The strawberry blonde puffed her cheeks, face scowling as she looked around her. “Oh, c’mon, why isn’t anyone on the dancefloor? This song is so good, compared to the other band,” she said, saying her last sentence loudly on purpose to the other member, who so happened to sit beside them, making him scoff and roll his eyes. He was about to say something, but Cindy butted in, “Oh, shut up, you don’t get to say anything.” making [Y/N] laugh. She watched back to the stage, her eyes instantly locking with his. He gave her a wink, leaving her cheeks flushed with a beating heart. 

     An idea popped into [Y/N] head, a smirk curving her lips. She turned to her friend. “We’ll be our own dancefloor. C’mon, let’s show them how it’s done.” she beamed, making the strawberry blonde laugh loudly as they moved their body, linking their hands together as they found their spot in the middle of the bar. Loud cheers and holler emitted from their throat as they danced together, their hands around each other as they vibed to the music. 

     The duo danced the night away like no one was watching, causing a group of people to look their way, curiously watching them owning the dance floor. Before they knew it, two of their friends joined them as the four moved closer to the stage, flipping their hair, and moving their bodies to the music. It was like a flash mob, and more people vibed to the music, cheering and completely forgetting about the first group. 

      Her best friend twirled her around, making both of them laugh. Cindy whistled at her, “Damn, girl! The moves. I’m not blaming him for the looks he’s giving you, you’re one lucky girl, babe!” she told her wiggling her eyebrows at her, making her grin before moving her head toward him, watching him looking at her with a smile as he sang, making her shake her hips. She shot him a glance, eyes filled with a playful tease.

     Before they knew it, the song was over. They all clapped, even some of the remaining members from the first group, cheering and shouting at the band, watching their eyes beaming and glinting with happiness at the crowd’s response. Alex nodded to the crowd, eyes finding hers again, giving her a grateful smile as he brought both of his hands together to show his gratitude. She smiled brightly at him, clapping her hands.

 ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ   ㅤ▹ ▹ ▹

     “That was amazing!” Cindy sang, wrapping her arms around [Y/N]’s shoulders, and giving her a little squeeze. Two of their co-stars agreed, eyes glistening from the lights above them as they gushed over how talented they were. [Y/N] hummed with a simper, her smile widening as she listened to her friends talking about them. Her eyes shamelessly darted across the pub, eyes searching for the talented musician. She found him sitting in a booth with the rest of his members, shielding them from the others. She rested her chin with her palm, looking at him with a fond look. 

     Alex took a sip from his drink and wiped his mouth with his hand, listening to Andy talking about their performance. He watched a smile curve his lips, making him mirror his smile with a hum. As he was about to join in the conversation, he started to pause, feeling someone was staring at him. His eyes subconsciously found hers, who looked at him with a soft expression. He watched her lightly waving at him, causing his heart to stutter against his chest and he looked behind him before turning back to her with an unsure look.

     [Y/N] giggled, watching him pointing a finger at himself to confirm if she was waving at him and not some other guy. She bit her lip with a nod, pointing her finger at him with a playful look. She watched a smile forming his handsome features, averting his gaze away from her toward his friends. This went on back and forth, with both of them stealing a few glances at each other. 

     “Okay, you two just need to talk. This is not working.” Cindy snapped her out of her state, making her whirl her head toward her with a confused expression. “What?”

     Two of her co-stars giggled, leaning against each other as they teased the actress. “You’re so cute when you’re in love.” One of them gushed, making kissing sounds as she tickled her waist.

 

     [Y/N] felt a dust of crimson dance across her cheeks. She swatted her friend’s hand away from her waist as small giggles emitted from her lips. “I-I’m not in love…He’s just…very cute.” she managed to reply in between her giggles, mumbling the last word, but Cindy heard her regardless. 

     “Why don’t you say that to his face?” Cindy teased, poking her shoulder as she looked at her best friend with a cheeky grin, making [Y/N] shake her head with a laugh. “God, no!”

     One of their co-stars stood up from her seat and walked over to her, pulling her up from her seat. [Y/N] looked at her friend like she’s grown two heads and she turned her head toward the others, who gave her thumbs up with wide grins on their faces. “Go get your man!”

     “You got this, babe! You’re so hot, he’s already head over heels!” Cindy cheered, earning a few disapproving looks from the people sitting beside them. She slapped her friend’s butt, earning a small gasp from the actress as she received a nasty look.

     “Am I blind or was that [Y/N] [Y/L/N], waving at you?” Alex heard Jamie say, making him roll his eyes before turning in his seat to face his best friend. He gave him a look and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

     “It’s just…She’s [Y/N] [Y/L/N] and you’re….you.” Jamie replied with a shrug. His eyes looked back and forth between his bandmate and to the actress, who curiously watched them, which made Jamie give her a polite smile. 

     Alex gave him a look, eyebrows scrunched as he downed the rest of his drink. “Right,” he mumbled, shifting in his seat. His head turned to their table once again and his eyes widened, watching her walking toward them with a soft smile. He panicked, feeling his heart palpating loudly against his chest. He cleared his throat and fixed his posture so that he was comfortably leaning against his seat.

     “Oh God, she’s walking toward us,” Jamie stressed, taking a sip from his beer and looking at Alex, who looked back at him with a confused look. Jamie brought his hand over to his shirt, wiping away some invisible dust and fixing his hair. 

     Alex made a sound of disdain, slapping his hands away from his face whilst giving him a glowering look. “Jamie, stop!” he whined, adjusting his shirt before scooting a few seats away from his best friend, who gave him a scoff and shook his head. “I’m just trying to help you, mate.”

     [Y/N] watched the small banter between Alex and Jamie, her lips forming into a thin line, stifling back a laugh as she walked toward their table. She tightly gripped the strap of her purse, eyes looking straight ahead whilst ignoring a few men glancing her way. She ignored the burning gazes at the back of her head, fastening her pace as he neared their table, making the boys snap their attention toward the actress. 

     Some of them were star-struck and were left speechless, including Jamie, who had his eyebrows raised with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. He awkwardly slurped his drink making her giggle. Matt was the first to break the ice, his eyes sparking as he acknowledged her presence. “There she is! The one who saved our necks out there!” he beamed, standing up from his seat to greet her in a warm hug, which she shyly returned. 

     “That was nothing, really. Me and the girls enjoyed it very much. You guys are very good.” She complemented with a flustered smile, causing Alex’s lips to curve upwards. His eyes lingered longer on her face, studying every detail.

     “Means a lot coming from you, love!” Jamie interjected into the conversation, sauntering beside her to introduce himself, which she happily returned as they shook hands. Andy soon joined, politely introducing himself and complimenting her work.

     [Y/N] felt blood rush through her cheeks, feeling her heart stutter against her chest. She introduced herself to a few of their friends before moving her attention to Alex, who patiently watched her interact with his friends. She hummed with a smile, slowly sauntering toward him. She pulled the sleeves of her dress, a habit she did when she was nervous and stood beside him. “Hi.” she softly greeted.

     Her voice left a trail of goosebumps, along with a fluttering heart at her gentle voice. His lips curved upwards and he stood up from his seat to stand in front of her. He opened his mouth, eyes gazing into hers. “Hey.” he breathed, rapidly blinking to check if he wasn’t dreaming. 

     [Y/N] bit her lip, eyes trailing over his lips as her mind wandered back to their last encounter where they almost shared a kiss. She cleared her throat and moved her eyes away from his lips, feeling another gush of crimson heating her cheeks. “You were amazing out there.” she internally cringed at how her voice cracked at the end and gave him a tip-lipped smile. 

     Alex chuckled at her flustered nature, his smile widening. “So where you…on the dancefloor.” he said, a small smirk curving his features, making her softly giggle as she looked anywhere but him.

     [Y/N] turned her head to him, who was already looking at her with a fond look. She hummed, placing her hands behind her back. “Did I look good on the dancefloor?” she cheekily asked, making Alex laugh with a nod.

     “You did look good on the dancefloor. In fact, you outshined the crowd with your dancing,” he admitted, biting his lip as he looked into her eyes, making her let out a sound of satisfaction. 

     The pair continued to converse, realizing that they had a lot in common. Alex finally got the courage to compliment her recent works, telling her how a talented actress she is and praising her. She became a flustered mess, hiding her hot cheeks as she profusely said her thanks and mirrored the gesture back by gushing about his guitar skills, which she stated that he should teach her to play one day. As they talked, she realized that she still never got his name and it irked her brain.

     [Y/N] furrowed her eyebrows with an apologetic look as she interrupted him mid-sentence. “I’m sorry…but, I don’t think I actually got your name.” she sheepishly said, folding her arms in front of her chest. 

     Alex’s eyes lit up and he nodded his head, muttering a small apology for not introducing himself sooner. Just as he was about to tell her his name flashes of lights and the sounds of snapping cameras made them squint their eyes, whirling their head around to where the flashes came from.

     [Y/N]’s face faltered, her face slowly morphing into a deep scowl as she noticed one of the paparazzi from the other day getting inside the pub. Much to her dismay, she locked eyes with one of them and they fastened their pace toward her with the camera tightly gripped into their hand. “There she is!” 

     [Y/N]’s expression stretched into a look of discomfort and she could feel her heart stammering against her chest, feeling panic wash over her. Her body became stiff and she stepped backward, ending up hitting a hard chest. She let out a rasping gasp, feeling their hand gently placed on her waist, and just by his touch she knew it was him. Butterflies swarmed inside her stomach even by the slightest touch, but it quickly vanished as it rapidly appeared. “[Y/L/N], we just want a picture. Is this your boyfriend?”

     Alex cursed at them, his eyes bulging from their sockets. “Fuck off!” he chided, pulling her behind him protectively. He and Matt shared a look before he led both of them out of the scene, their hands intertwined as they tried to escape from the photographers. 

     The more they tried to escape, it seemed as more photographers engulfed around the old pub, and Alex scoffed. “Where did they all come from?” he mainly asked to himself, but [Y/N] heard him regardless. “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice, face hiding into his back while trying to avoid getting snapshots on her face.

     [Y/N] heard Alex grunt and she pulled her face away from his back to see him getting grabbed by one of the photographers. The actress grew hot, her cheeks flamed with anger as she stepped in front of him, slapping their hand, which resulted in their camera falling down the hard floor. “Don’t touch him!” she sputtered, her voice laced with venom. 

     “We just want a picture, ma’am! You didn’t need to do that.” the man scolded, his face painted with frustration at his broken camera and [Y/N] wanted nothing more than to smack his face and remove that stupid look on his face. 

     [Y/N] shook her head and went to check on Alex, but when she turned around he wasn’t there. A downward pout etched onto her face and she felt worry prickling inside her chest, squeezing her lungs and making her let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She cursed internally and she wanted to cry out for his name, but she remembered that just as he was about to tell her his name, the paparazzi came and snatched that opportunity away from her. 

     Alex’s eyes frantically darted across the heavy mass of paparazzi taking over the area, his stomach clenching at the thought of her being alone with them. “Fuck,” he mumbled, hands rubbing his face as he squeezed his way through the mass. “[Y/N]!”

     The actress squinted her eyes as small groans emitted from her lips. The flashes of lights increased with every second and she just stood there, frozen and unable to move. She clenched her jaw as her breath grew thin and ragged. She had her head face down with some of her hair covering her angry expression. Her shoulders rose until they were under her ears and she closed her eyes, letting out an exhale. Two of the cameramen noticed her state and shared a look before lowering their camera. They made room for her to walk away, and she took that opportunity and made a run for it.

     She managed to squeeze her way through some of them by using her elbows to push them out of her way. She hissed at their nails digging into her skin and her lips pressed into a thin line to prevent herself from screaming at the top of her lungs. Her lips emitted a small prayer, and just like that her prayers were answered when her body slammed into Cindy’s. “Oh my God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” her best friend sighed in relief before taking her into her arms. 

     [Y/N] melted into her arms, using her big oversized jacket to hide her face inside. “Thank God,” she muffled into her chest and she felt her hands rubbing her back comfortably as she yelled at the paparazzi. 

     “Shit, is that blood?” Cindy worried, her voice wavering at the end as she had her hands on her arms. She pulled her friend away from her chest and removed a few hair strands away from her damp face. She cupped her face, looking for other injuries on her delicate features. “They’re gonna fucking pay.”

     Cindy stepped in front of her, pulling her phone out and waving it in the air, earning the photographers’ attention. “You guys have five seconds before I call the cops on you,” she said with a stoic look, eyes cold and rigid as she looked at them with a look of disdain. 

     [Y/N] touched the scabs on her left arm and gritted her teeth together as she felt a burning pain searing through her. She quietly cursed, not noticing two of her friends dashing towards her with concerned looks. “[Y/N], are you okay?” they asked in unison, their hands touching her shoulders and she flinched with a small whimper.

 

     She nodded sarcastically, “Yeah. Never been better,” she answered in a bitter tone, making the pair share a look. She sighed in frustration and rubbed her glistening face, listening to her co-star. “Well, the good thing is that the paps are gone. Thanks to Cindy.” 

     [Y/N] sniffled, moving her gaze away from her friends toward Alex and his friends, her eyes tinted with hope as her eyes darted across the almost empty bar. She found them sitting and hunched at the corner and she frowned when she detected no signs of Alex. She locked eyes with Jamie, who gave her a worried look, to which she replied with a nod. She breathed out in relief when she noticed none of them were injured, but the ache in her stomach punched her gut as her mind wandered back to how the paparazzi treated Alex, making her heart stumble over its own rhythm. 

     Her lips twitched and she subconsciously hid her bare arms inside her long sleeves, hiding her bruises as she gave Jamie a look, mouthing Alex’s whereabouts. Just as he was about to answer, a gentle hand took hold of her right arm, where she thankfully didn’t have any bruises, and pulled her attention away from Jamie. [Y/N] slowly moved her head, meeting Cindy’s concerned look. “There’s a cab waiting for us outside.” 

     [Y/N]’s eyes burned with exhaustion and she nodded. She scrubbed her eyes with her knuckles before taking one last glance at them, in hopes of seeing him, but much to her disappointment they were nowhere to be found. Her hand slowly drifted over her mouth to hide her growing frown, and she let Cindy guide them out of the old pub. “I never got his name.” 

     Cindy looked back at her, her lips curving upwards but faltering when she noticed her frown. Her eyes softened and she pulled her closer, rubbing her shoulder as they headed to the exit. Goosebumps broke into her skin as she felt the cold wind hit her skin, making her shiver. The duo went inside the car with [Y/N] quietly mumbling that she wanted the window seat. The car drove off and she watched the old pub slowly disappear, leaving an empty feeling clouding inside her chest.

     “What was the name of their band again?” [Y/N] asked her best friend, her eyes tinted with hopefulness. Her shoulders dropped when she watched Cindy halt with her response, displaying an unsure expression. She cursed under her breath as disappointment etched onto her features.

 

     “I’m not sure…It was something about Arctic–or was it Atlantic?” Cindy replied with furrowed eyebrows, giving the actress a shrug. The strawberry blonde’s eyes softened and she wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to her side. “Oh, don’t worry, babe, you’ll reunite one day.”

     “I doubt that.”

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

A/N: I have a couple of requests in my inbox that revolve around the idea of Fuegoleon having a really beautiful wife, for whom he falls madly in love with at first sight. So... I decided to do a little something something~

Hope y'all like it! ^^

Summary: Fuegoleon didn't plan on falling in love unexpectedly, because who really *can* plan for the unexpected. But... he doesn't regret a single day spent with a beauty, such as yourself

Genre: Romance, fluff Fanfic type: Oneshot Pairing: Fuegoleon x f!reader Word count: ~0.9k Contains: just fluff and adoration and him being very smitten

The things was that… Fuegoleon pride himself as a man of rationality. Someone who, if eventually he would do so, would fall in love gradually. It’d be orderly, and logical. Something he could see from the distance.

He thought that falling in love, would taste more like a choice; a decision.

But the fates decided against it. Instead, they served you, wrapped in a smile and kind eyes.

He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t deny the longing. Even if he tried. And oh how he did try.

Because it wasn’t sensible. It wasn’t planned or rational. It wasn’t expected.

While, sure, he could see that you were a beauty. He could hear the remarks and comments of adoration, even if only implied. The sentiments and wishes and wonderings that were shared only in whispers. The ‘if only she was mine…’

All of that he could hear and see, and he knew it to be logical. After all, you were beautiful. It was clear as day. A fact, uncontested, and known by all who laid their eyes upon you.

But… feeling the pull. The swaying of his heart. The way it rattled his ribcage from the inside and tried to break free, confess its undying love and affection to you; all of that he couldn’t reason or rationalize. The feeling that seemed more consuming than his flames that could burn and engulf. His very soul that was composed of fire and passion.

All of that came second to how he felt about you. How he longed for you, despite never having known your touch.

The sheer idea of feeling your soft skin on his cheek; your palm placed onto the side of his face so that he might close his eyes and sink into the sensation… The sound of your voice; speaking out an utterance, soft like silk and tantalizing and decadent like salty caramel… And the softness of your very soul; wrapped around his… Oh how he wished it could wrap around his. Even if only to embrace for a tiny moment. A fraction of a second… one fifth of an eternity.

Fuegoleon Vermillion, was a man of reason.

But when you came around, reason was left in second place with his emotions.

Especially when those tender gazes he imagined, became a reality. When the sound of your hushed whispers, flowed to his ears. And when the taste of your lips… became imprinted onto his…

The sacred taste he couldn’t describe, even if given an eternity and a day.

But it was a taste he didn’t want to go without. The idea of not having your mouth dance over his. Your arms wrap around him, and the sound of your laugh… play the sweet melody to him that

Though, the best of all, was the way your soul fit so well next to his. The kindness, compassion, strength and regality, while being different from his they just… fit. All of it. All of you.

It was like a missing piece he didn’t know he needed.

He might have wished for it, but he didn’t know he needed it. Not until he met you.

He didn’t know how he needed to place his hands onto the sides of your face, and tilt your chin up, just so that he might place his lips against yours and drink your love and affection, as if from a sacred chalice. How he needed to know that you were sleeping next to him, safe and sound. That your smile and laugh were still there. In the next room, the same city, the same world… somewhere, even if you were apart for a time that always seemed far too long.

Even if he loved coming back to you. Returning to you. Perhaps just so that he could lift you up and spin you around, to hear the sweet melody of your joy and relief, knowing that he had returned back to you. To feel your embrace squeeze him just that much harder.

And… he would have been lying if he said that he wouldn’t have felt a trickle of pride, when he saw the envious gazes of other around. That he wouldn’t have, even if only a little, drank up the knowledge that out of everyone, you had chosen him.

They might have been envious, but he was… well, he wasn’t a jealous man. But he was territorial. And since jealousy aligns with territoriality, he supposed that… perhaps… it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be. Especially since he noticed himself to be holding his head a little higher when you walked with him down the street, or simply stood by him during an event.

A true, genuine beauty. Heart and soul that matched the exterior.

He considered himself the luckiest man on earth, and he didn’t miss a day to remind you of it. Show you it. Just how utterly, soul-consumingly in love he was. Because you deserved to know. While, much to his dismay, he was a mere mortal man, and the tools that were at his disposal to show you it, tell you it, were far too limited to his liking.

Even the words “I love you, my heart, my soul, my beloved, one and only” weren’t enough. So… he’d have to try to prove himself day after day, after day.

Which… he wouldn’t mind

[1whore1gang]

it's the little things 🤍

Hey yall!!

Sorry for the lack of updates/my disappearance. Life has been 50 shades of crazy. But, as promised here is part 10!

Now this is going to be posted in 4 parts unfortunately so i can get this out to you all. so this is part 10A!!

This is short, so be prepared.

I love all of you dearly and appreciate your patience.

Warnings: Cussing, the usual angst

if I missed any please lmk!! :)

Much love to you friends ❤️

Taglist: @gaymistakeboi @batw3nch @thedevillovesflowers @almightywdm @ghostslittlegf @sketchyfandomgirl @under-the-dirt @clear-your-mind-and-dream @darkangel4121 @vreselia @llemes @stargaliz @rockcollector3000 @nottrosaxx @azu21 @kaoyamamegami @vicktorfan @ghost-is-my-bbg @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @salsasvault @itr-00

All 3 boys had been under my care for awhile. No contact from John, nor Laswell. I was exhausted and with little to no sleep, I was losing my mind.

“Please stop crying- I want to go back to sleep Gaz.” I was in the hallway, rocking Gaz as he cried and I couldn’t figure out why. “Please!” I begged.

I hear crying coming from inside the room. “FUCK!” I curse as I go back inside with two crying babies. Johnny was inside of the playpen bawling his eyes out now too.

“Please! Both of you! Keeping me up all damn night and I can’t figure out what’s wrong!! I just want some sleep!” Just then, Simon reached out for Johnny, hugging him as they both lay. Johnny’s cries subside and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you. If only you could fix Gaz’s cries.” Simon grunts and you set him down in the playpen next to Simon. Simon slowly hands him a toy plane and Gaz sniffles as he inspects it, the room finally quiet.

You begin to break out into tears at the silence. You couldn’t take this single parenting thing anymore. You needed Price’s help.

A hand reached to your phone, and quickly pulled up his number, but your thumb never found the strength to hit call. You quickly closed out of it and threw your phone across the room in fustration.

“Why can’t one of you turn back into an adult.” You turn to the playpen and see Johnny staring up at you now. “I could really use you right now. My little shield.” His little hands grab at the air towards you. “Oh how I miss you.”

You cradled him to you as you lay on your back, listening to his little mumbles.

“I don’t get it. What’s his deal?”

“Johnny it’s fine. Let him throw his fit.” I wave him off in my office after he stormed in.

“No! You don’t get it! I can’t continue to sit back and let him treat you like this! I cannot watch him tear you down like this! I’m losing you to his words Y/N!” I look up at Johnny as he leans over my desk.

“J.” His eyes soften as my nickname for him. “Don’t lose your job.” He scoffs at me. “We have a list of reasons he could kick us both. Let’s not add to it. Please.”

“He can’t use that against us. What were we supposed to do?!” I sigh as I set my paperwork aside, giving him my full attention. “Why would he be mad about that mission? We were being held hostage, and they wanted a show.”

“Johnny, he’d be upset because it was a stupid decision. We aren’t supposed to mix life and work.” I try to read his expression.

“So what if we kissed to save our lives?”

I remember that night, looking down a barrel of a gun. Johnny confessed his undying love for me and kissed me like he’d never get to again. That night always lived in the back of my mind. I never knew if it was true or just really good acting.

You look down to see little Johnny snoring away on your chest and you drink in the moment. “One day I’ll get to have you back.” Looking over to the playpen, you see Simon and Gaz asleep as well. You thank whatever God is out there for finally putting them down.

DING!

You hear your phone go off. Slowly moving Johnny, you get up to look.

J. Price: “Sorry I missed your call. Everything alright?”

J. Price: “Hey, call me back when you get a chance.”

J.Price: “Please let me know you’re okay. I’m worried now.”

Sighing, you curse yourself for throwing your phone. Your thumb must’ve slipped.

Y: “Accidental.”

You left it at that and set your phone down, finally being able to get some sleep.

“Please. You can’t just walk away from this! This isn’t something you can just shove down Y/N. You can’t shut me out this time!!” Johnny yelled after me as I walked down the halls of the compound. The tears were coming, I knew it. I couldn’t let him see it thought.

“Stop!!” I feel his hand grip my wrist. “If you don’t do something, I will.” His breathing was labored and his eyes were wide with fury, his nostrils flaring with each exhale.

“It’s out of my hands. I’m sorry Johnny. What am I supposed to do?” His face softened as he let out an exasperated breath. His shoulders fell and his grip left me. “I’m choosing to keep my job separate from everything else.”

“Fine. But just remember what Simon said, okay? Remember what we swore to you. Say the word and the man is dead.”

I sigh as I look up at him. Johnny recently had found out what happened to be on deployment. The man that hurt me. He’d been fuming ever since. “It’s fine. Go get some sleep, ok?”

Johnny was always the one to get heated about things. Simon was the calm and quiet one. Johnny would be loud and abrasive about a subject while Simon would hold you and quiet your tears.

You spent many nights in Simon’s room crying into his arms, letting your emotions roll off of you as he shushed you and hummed to you. He was soft and gentle, a side reserved for you.

You stared at your ceiling as your alarm went off. All three boys were already up preoccupying themselves. You were so numb after what happened in the hospital.

Seeing Price about to kiss Tia, after leaving you cold turkey on deployment. The betrayal broke you in new ways you weren’t sure you could repair.

Seeing little Johnny in the hospital bed, hearing Price and Tia try to explain themselves.

It burns in your brain, haunts you everytime you close your eyes. Your heart feels the pain all over again every morning when your eyes flutter open. How could you have been so foolish to trust him? After all he did?

Price had done nothing but treat you like shit your entire career and all it took was some babies coming along, who happened to be your colleagues, for him to change overnight?

As if that-

You sat up in bed. A million thoughts were swirling through your mind as Simon looked up at you and tilted his head.

No. It can’t be the reason.

Letting out a sigh and pushing the thought aside, you grabbed the boys and went to the kitchen to feed them. You hadn’t eaten much since the hospital, didn’t have the appetite.

The sunlight through the window felt warm on your skin as you mixed the bottles. Closing your eyes for a moment, you embraced the feeling. It felt euphoric to feel the sunshine brush against your skin.

A cry broke the moment of peace, a fuss from Gaz. You rolled your eyes and gave the boys their bottles. You sat the breakfast bar across from their high chairs and laid your head down in your arms, desperate for just 5 minutes.

“Y/N?” That didn’t last long though.

Slowly, your heavy head lifted to see Laswell standing in the doorway that led to the rest of the building. “Honey you look terrible, oh my God”.

Words didn’t grace your tongue today, instead, tears flooded your eyes as Johnny began to cry. Laswell rushed over to you, embracing you with file folders in her hands. “I’m so sorry I’ve left you to be alone for so long. I’ve been handling things on the outside end of this all. You must be exhausted. Oh…”

You didn’t want her pity, yet having another person around was such a relief. Emotions flooded you and broke open like a dam at her comfort. “You know what. You go rest and I’ll watch the boys for awhile. Then we’ll talk, okay?”

She quickly rushed over to hush Johnny and then shot you a mom glare. You nodded and got up, heading to your room to sleep like she’d ordered.

A couple hours later, you make your way back out the kitchen but stop around the corner when you hear Laswell talking on the phone.

“You don’t understand, she’s in horrible condition. She looks as if she hasn’t slept in days, which isn’t surprising considering she’s taking care of 3 littles by herself. She’s also recovering from major surgery.” A pause in her talking made you listen closer, trying to see if you could hear the person on the other end.

“All Im asking is you take at least one. Theyre your responsibility too. You know damn well it’s not fair. She’s been through hell and back and hasn’t had a moment of peace for over a month. If you don’t start getting your shit together, I’ll force you to.”

You couldn’t hear the person she was speaking to unfortunately, but you assumed it was Price.

You finally make the turn around the corner and watch as Laswell quickly hangs up the call at your appearance. “That wasn’t very long?” She remarks.

“Hard to sleep these days. It’s normal for me after a deployment.” You sit down across from her at the breakfast bar. “How were the boys?” Your eyes drift over to all three of them passed out in the small living area. You sigh in relief at the sight, they’d never sleep that peacefully for you lately.

“They were fine. No issues. We need to talk though. Your plate is all too full right now. We need to take some stress off of you dear.” She reaches and grabs your hands across the table. “I’ve spoken to John. He’s willing to take Gaz to lighten your load. It’s not much but it’ll help. Plus, now that I’ve gotten everything in order on the outside, I can be around more to watch Simon and Johnny for you whenever you want or need.”

“I don’t want anything to do with him.” You look down and take your hands away. “I’m fine without his help-“

“No you aren’t. You’re drowning. Look at yourself. I can tell you’re without sleep and a proper meal. Let me help you, please.” You sigh at her words.

“I wish I had my boys back. They’d know exactly what to do. They’d fix everything. I can’t go on like this, it’s lonely here Laswell.” Tears sting your eyes.

“I know honey. I’ve arranged a time for us to meet John just to exchange Gaz. Nothing more. You don’t have to talk to him or even get out of the car. Just come with so he can take one off of your hands.” She squeezes your hands as she takes them again. “Okay?”

You take a deep breath before nodding at her offer. “When do we leave?”

“In about an hour. Is that enough time to freshen up? I can change the boys and get them in their car seats for you.” She scans your expression looking for any way to read deeper into your mind.

“Yeah that’s fine. I’ll uh, go shower.” You get up and beeline to your room.

The shower washes your tears down the drain as the water burns your skin.

When you exit the shower and get dressed, staring at your reflection for a moment.

You didn’t recognize yourself and you hoped Price would not notice.

You didn’t want his pity.

That’s when a knock appeared at your door. Figuring it was Laswell, you quickly answered it but instead you were shocked.

“Hey girl. Can I come in?”

Tia….

[twinklingstar1ights]

Love In Translation

Hunter Summary: Hunter likes you, so he keeps telling you, in thai. WC:432 Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner

“Why do you keep saying that? You’re insulting me aren’t you?” You accused Hunter, smacking him on the shoulder after hearing the thai words leave his mouth again. 

“No, I’m not,” he defended with a happy smile on his face. 

“Then what are you saying?” you asked again. 

“Figure it out,” he played with you. 

“Hunter!” you whined. Hunter couldn’t help, but find you adorable with the way you kicked your foot in annoyance. “Just tell me. You’ve been saying it for weeks now.” 

“I know, I’ve been waiting weeks for you to figure it out,” he says. You let out a sigh. 

“But how am I supposed to know if you won’t tell me?” you argued. 

“Translators exist you know,” he poked. 

“No, I didn’t know that,” you replied sarcastically. You tried using a translator, but you have no clue how to spell whatever it is Hunter is saying in thai and your pronunciation of it is so bad that even the translator has nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ผมชอบคุณ” (pom chôp khun) The phrase left Hunter’s mouth again. 

“I swear you’re insulting me,” you say. Hunter breaks out into a fit of giggles. 

“I swear I’m not.” He raised his hands in defense. 

“Seriously, why can’t you just tell me?” you questioned.

“It’s more fun this way.” He smiled at you cheekily. 

“Hunter please?” you begged. Hunter laughed again, which made you glare at him.

“Ok, ok, I’ll say it one more time,” he tells you. 

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” You rushed out, picking up your phone to open the translator. “Ok, now go,” you told him. 

“ผมชอบคุณ” (pom chôp khun) He repeated the phrase again. “I like you” the translation appeared on your screen. You blink at your screen. It takes a moment for the words to register. 

“You like me?” You looked at Hunter surprised. 

“Yes, I told you I wasn’t insulting you. I was confessing,” he reveals. You feel a small heat creep onto your cheeks. 

“You should have just told me in a language I understand. This has been driving me crazy,” you smacked his chest lightly. 

“Well now that you know, do you like me back or not?” he asked.

“I do, but I’m still annoyed at you.” You folded your arms over your chest.

“Ah come on, you can’t be mad at me. I just confessed my undying love for you.” He wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You made a pathetic effort to push him away. Easily failing to budge his strong embrace, but it’s not like you really wanted out of it anyway.

[chiffaust]

HELLO!! Congrats for gaining 100 followers!! If it's ok with you can I get a valentine prompt adore and fixing their clothes before going out for both Shu and Mika:3.... You can just do one character if you feel like it. Thank you and have a nice day!

luckiest guy alive

♡ [adore] to shower them with affection + fixing their clothes before going out.

content ... fluff, established relationship

(n.) – i went with mika instead since shu was already requested!

As your waiting prolonged in the living room, the louder and hectic the footsteps became inside the bedroom; from the sound of it, he was panicking himself into wearing his clothes.

You could only but chuckle at the mere thought of the boy stumbling over everything just to wear his suit properly, though you couldn't blame him.

The frantic footsteps becomes louder and louder and suddenly stopped for a while. After a few seconds of silence, it becomes louder once more as the sound comes closer to you, and soon appeared Mika.

He had worn his prettiest suit Shu had picked out for his date to you; though he does look out of breath and panicked the moment he stepped into the living room, all worries soon melt when he saw you and now he's smiling widely like an idiot.

"Nngah, [Name]! Ya look so pretty!" Mika said, walking up to you before wrapping his arms around you, twirling you around for a moment whilst a fit laughter escapes his mouth.

"'M so happy to have ya as my Valentine's date this year too! Yer the prettiest person alive, I love ya so, so, so, so much!!" He then once again confessed his undying love to you, rubbing his cheek against yours at the pure happiness he feels knowing that today, this year; you are his Valentine's date yet again.

"Me too, Mika! You're so cute, so adorable, so wonderful!" You professed your love back to him, hugging him back just as tightly as he is to you. "I'm happy to have you as my date this year too! You're the best boyfriend I could have ever wanted!"

"Nngah, [Name]..." He was beginning to feel like he's about cry due to how happy he was hearing you saying all of those nice things to him, but before he could, he finally puts you down onto your feet.

He smiled gently at you, his face softens as he fixes any wrinkle or crooked part of your clothes caused by his sudden hug.

Whilst he does so, you began to notice just how crooked his tie really is, but then he stopped fixing your clothes and his hands went it's way to your shoulders to pat it lightly whilst a big grin soon appeared on his face.

"There! Now yer clothes are as good as new!"

"Ah, Mika... Your tie is a bit crooked too." You then finally decide to point that out.

"A-ah...?! Nngah, yer right!" He then finally notices just how crooked his tie is. He must've overlooked it when he was frantically running everywhere to find his blazer.

"It's okay, let me just fix it for you." You said, bringing your hands to his tie, straightening it before tucking it inside his vest.

"[Name]... Yer so kind, what have I done to deserve someone like you?"

"Oh, come on. You're making me blush, Mika."

"But, it's not a lie! 'M not lyin' ta ya, y'know?!"

"Whatever." You softly chuckled at him, patting his cheek gently. He said nothing nor do anything to protest against touch, he simply melted into it the moment he feels it.

Mika then looks at you once more, smiling softly as he continues to lean into your hand, inviting you to continue caressing his cheeks like that for a little while longer.

"Nngah, [Name], I love ya so much."

"I love you too, Mika." You reciprocated his love once before before giving him a gentle peck on the lips.

"Now, let's go, shall we?" You ask, pulling your hand away from his cheek as you gestured to the door.

"Hey, [Name]. Have I ever told ya just how much I love ya?" Mika asked, walking out of the door with you, hands in yours as he showed you his toothy grin again.

"'M the luckiest guy alive ta have ya as my significant other, [Name]."

[sevi007]

FF 16 spoilers

Spoilers right up til the ending lads and ladies

Are you kidding me. Are you. Kidding. Me

Ahem. Excuse me. I needed to get that out of my system.

Like. I‘m still reeling. I „only“ had the final fight to finish, thought yea, easy - and now this rollercoaster ride of feels right here. Ugh. Uff

I will get more into depth on the whole game in a seperate post later, but right now I need to jot down my first impression

From the start just - ugh. UGH. Gav openly crying into Clive‘s shoulder. Mid almost doing the same as they talk about Cid. Byron seeing his brother‘s sons off into a suicide mission

(Where was Otto though? Needed Otto, Goetz, Charon and Blackthorne here too! And Terence while we‘re at it. Aggressively promoting the NPCs here)

And Jill. Jill. I‘m almost glad she stayed behind and wasn‘t in danger but ouch. Now is so not a good moment for a love confession children (I know, I know, it might be the last chance, but that makes it so much more difficult). Why must you hurt me so, you two.

I will get back to that though

Then the journey and the final fight. Can I say I‘m almost disappointed there was no big aerial battle as Bahamuth against the many thralls? That would have been cool. But alas

I WOULD have liked for the battle of the three Eikons against Ultima to be. A real battle? Like the the Cinematic clashes are rather slow compared to other QTEs, I didnt feel a lot of excitement in this part of the battle compared to the rest of it

Changed with the next cutscene though. I mean, I had already suspected there is more of Ultima‘s people - one for every Eikon - but I had thought the Mothercrystals are there to power them up, and destroying them would stop that. I was just as shocked as Clive to here we basically helped them with it.

And then. Then. Here‘s the yelling part, the are you kidding me -

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE LOSE JOSHUA?!

We JUST got him back! After 18 years! We had all these sidequests to gather him medicine! He is literally the Phoenix - Undying! Nope. Nu-uh. Square I am not accepting that. Did not happen in my book

But also thos is quite possible one of the visually most beautiful scenes, what with the Phoenix wings and reflecting in Joshua‘s eyes. And the voice actors, especially Clive‘s, really knocked it out of the park. The gasps and sniffles and the pain? Holy shit. I cried mostly because of the voices

The unholy rage I felt man - I felt very much in Clive‘s position there. Very immersive. Just absolutely get WRECKED Ultima, you made the wrong brother angry

The battle was so, so awesome. I‘m sorry but this might just about be cooler than the one in Rebirth, hands down.

The music - that was a remix of Find the Flame, yes? It sounded different but alike.

Then that it was one on one, and Ultima almost humanlike - fit really well in showing how he is no different from us, from Clive. And the way Ultima got more and more desperate and lost all cool, INCREDIBLY satisfying

the part where Ultima and Clive kept meeting Eikon with the same Eikon - combined with the Voice overs from Clive‘s friends - so good, I cheered.

The Eikon fight part was also very cool. Hate to say it, but blue-fire Ifrit also looks damn cool. Can we get blue and red fire please XD

Just. The entire fight was wellrounded and fun, really had my blood pumping, I loved it.

And then. Then, the end. The flashback to baby Clive and baby Joshua. Come on. Dont turn the knife in the wound you sadists!

Well. Obviously. They are all okay. It‘s clear as day. Clive healed Joshua, so he‘s gonna be okay. Dion only fell into the sea, and OBVIOUSLY the Enterprise had followed them and picked him up. And Clive already got to the beach all alone, now we just need to go get him. Yup. Mhm

(But Sevi the game made it clear - shhhh. Shush. No. Not in this house. In this house, we live in dellusion)

[superbattrash]

Bruclark Week Day 2: Only One Bed

Alternative title: “How NOT to confess your undying love” by Bruce Wayne

There’s a little tiny moment of undercover in here too, because I couldn’t help myself, teehee. 

Clark smiles at the clerk and gives her a little wave before the elevator doors close. He relaxes his shoulders and is about to release the hold he has on Bruce’s waist, when Bruce steps even closer, cubbing his neck. He leans so close that even without his super senses Clark would be able to smell his aftershave. If Bruce even wears aftershave. He does, doesn’t he? At least when he’s out as Bruce Wayne. When he’s out as Batman he smells of nothing but leather, metal and some earthy notes of his sweat. It’s all together a really pleasant smell that Clark has gotten used to over the years. It smells of safely and strength, of friendship and dry humor. It smells like home, despite Bruce living in another city.

Bruce leans close enough that his lips graze Clark’s ear. He tries not to breathe too loudly. Everything feels very small all of a sudden. Was the elevator always this tiny? It feels like there’s barely enough room for the both of them to stand, let alone breathe.

Why did he agree to this again?

Because Bruce asked, that’s why. He’ll always indulge Bruce, even in the oddest of cases. This isn’t League related but Bruce actually asked for his help. Out loud. While looking at his face. That counts as a minor miracle in Clark’s book, and he agreed before even hearing Bruce out. Which is why he’s currently wrapped around Gotham’s prince, suppressing a shiver as Bruce’s breath hits his ear.

“There might be cameras,” he says.

“Oh,” is Clark’s very eloquent answer, but he does wrap his arm more securely around Bruce’s waist. He pointedly doesn’t notice how perfectly it fits there; how natural it feels. How Bruce’s body seems to be made to stand next to his. How warm Bruce is; how his hands feel against Clark’s skin. His fingers a calloused but soft, like he remembers to use the moisturizer Clark got him for Christmas.

He’d had to ask Dick and Jason for help. He went with Dick’s suggestion, mostly because he wasn’t sure Bruce would enjoy “a thorough ass kicking” or for Clark to “French his fucking face off”. Jason is a very imaginative young man. With issues. Clark has to admit there must be some issues. He likes him all the same either way, but Dick’s suggestion had seemed like the safer choice.

Bruce keeps a close proximity to him the entire ride to the top floor. He’s fiddling with Clark’s collar and Clark has to remind himself that this is Bruce Wayne, the playboy, who’s taking him to a fancy suite and not Bruce Wayne, his friend and coworker. It’s hard to make the distinction when it’s Bruce’s cologne and Bruce’s eyes looking at him with all the heat of the sun in them. Clark swallows and does his best to play along.

He can’t remember what he’s supposed to do, if he’s even supposed to do anything in particular. He’s pretty sure Bruce explained a plan to him but the warm, strong hands grabbing at him and dragging him through the hallway has his brain short circuit. He clings to Bruce, lets him whisper sweet words in his ear and otherwise just follows along like a lost puppy until they get to their room.

“Oh, that’s just great,” is the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. He sounds oddly nervous and there’s a slight uptick to his heartbeat.

“What is?” Clark asks. He doesn’t like it when Bruce’s heartrate changes. It’s one of the few near constants he has in his life; ever present in the back of his mind, even if he doesn’t mean to listen for it.

“There’s only one bed,” Bruce says as he gestures towards the bed in question. It looks soft and comfortable. “And it’s queen sized.”

“Well, we are supposed to be a couple.” Clark can’t help but snicker a little at Bruce’s frown; he does hate it when his plans change. It actually surprises Clark that he hasn’t researched the rooms before booking one. It’s not like him to overlook a detail like that.

“Still,” Bruce grumbles and kicks the bed’s leg grumpily. He looks so young when he wrinkles his nose like that and Clark looks around the room quickly to distract himself, lest he accidentally do something stupid. Like tell Bruce what he’s thinking.

“Well, there’s a couch as well,” he says as he spots the luxurious sofa. “I’ll take that.”

“No, no, I’ll-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, B. My body is much more equipped for sleeping on such a hard surface.” It doesn’t even look too bad if Clark ignores the way the springs are very clearly meant for sitting with a cup of tea and not for sleeping on. Luxury isn’t always comfortable.

“You calling me old?” Bruce asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, of course not,” Clark is quick to reassure. There’s a pause where Bruce looks a little less offended and then Clark continues: “I’m calling you human. And bruised.”

“Hn.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest with a little huff. How very Batman of him. It’s almost like they’re out working on a normal case or mission for the League. Clark is reminded how much he enjoys working with Bruce.

“A bruised human who happen to also be old,” he says with a grin, because he can’t help it. It’s so easy to tease Bruce like this; like they’ve never done anything else. Like they’re close enough to be allowed. It took Clark a while to get close to Bruce but now that he is, he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.

“You know what, boy scout?” Bruce says, looking almost ready to throw himself at Clark. Another look that suits him so incredibly well; relaxed and ready to get Clark into a headlock he won’t be able to get out of without breaking any of Bruce’s bones. Which, Bruce knows, Clark would never do.

“What, old man?” he challenges. This is usually where the threat of kryptonite comes in, which in turn ends with Clark telling Bruce he’d have him on the floor before he even moved an inch, to which Bruce would say there’s no way and they’d keep going back and forth for a bit. It’s their usual dance, a dance they both enjoy greatly. Instead, Bruce just sort of… deflates.

“Shut up,” he says and there’s none of the conviction he displays when they’re teasing each other.

“You usually have so much more to say,” Clark tries. It’s no secret that he’s the talker of the two of them when they’re in uniform; but when they’re out and about in their normal daily routines, Bruce is supposed to be the smooth talker who won’t shut up.

“There’s no reason to be condescending, Clark,” Bruce says, but it’s with a tilt of his lips that makes Clark know that he’s both in trouble and forgiven. It’s an odd mix with Bruce; trouble and forgiveness usually goes hand-in-hand with him.

“I’m not, I’m just saying.” Clark shrugs. “It’s usually so hard to get a word in with you.”

“Alright, are you quite done?”

“Yeah, I’m done.” Because Bruce is back to doing that not-smiling smile. The “I’m Batman so I don’t smile but I’m also happy, so I’ll settle on pouting a little while my cheek twitches” smile. The bat-smile, if you will. Okay, so perhaps Clark spends a little too long analyzing Bruce’s facial expressions, he’ll admit to that. It’s hard not to with a face like Bruce’s.

***

“We’re just supposed to stay here until you can gather the intel you need,” Clark says after a little while. They’ve still not agreed on who sleeps where, but Bruce will make sure he gets his way. He always does. “Right?”

Intel. Right.

It’s not like he’s planned this entire thing from start to finish to be able to actually have a moment alone with Clark, seeing as he’s been in love with him for more than a year now and his kids are driving him nuts about confessing. Alright the year-thing isn’t true, it’s just been a year since he finally admitted it to himself. There’s always been excuses, missions, other partners, emergencies. Reasons to postpone, to push it to the back of his head. Obviously, he can’t keep doing that, so now he’s come up with a plan. The plan being to lure Clark to this hotel to “gather intel” and end up telling him how he feels. Bruce knows he’s stealing a page out of Dick’s “Get Bruce and Clark together” playbook, but he’s running out of ideas and it’s driving him crazy.

Best case scenario he walks out of the hotel with a boyfriend, making both himself, his kids and his butler happy. Bonus points for Clark being happy as well. Worst case scenario is that Clark rejects him gently and Bruce will have to move to the other side of the universe and become a space-farmer. Or a bat breeder. Whichever comes more naturally to him. He hasn’t decided yet.

Bruce glances at Clark, who’s looking expectantly at him. Oh, right. He asked a question.

“Yes,” Bruce says casually. He picks up a pillow, so he doesn’t have to keep looking at Clark. It feels itchy underneath his fingertips but that could be his nerves talking. “Why? Are you already itching to go home?”

“What?” Clark looks offended and a little hurt at the accusation. “No, I’m just wondering if we should order room service.”

“This place has room service?” Bruce frowns. He would actually be surprised if they even have a kitchen at this place. It’s so much smaller than the hotels he usually stays at; not as small as the places Matches stay at when he’s in town, but still. Not the most luxurious place; it’s what he could get on such short notice without having to spend thousands upon thousands of dollars. Besides, he wanted a hotel nowhere near his usual hangouts. In case Clark rejects him, he doesn’t want any memories being tainted. He’s a soft man, what can he say. There’s also the fact that Alfred threatened to tell Clark about the plan if he didn’t make sure neither of them would leave “because you suddenly hear some emergency call, sir. No excuses to get out of this.”

“This is a fancy hotel, B,” Clark says.

“Really.” Bruce supposes it could be worse. He didn’t have proper time to do research and that was purposefully planned that way. He made sure he couldn’t back out of the plan, which is why he made a last-minute booking the second he decided tonight was the night. He actually had Jason help him pick a random location, which… might not have been the brightest of ideas. He should’ve probably stuck to his original plan: keep planning until eventually one of them dies and it’s too late. Spare himself the humiliation.

“Really,” Clark assures him. “It might not be up to your billionaire standards-”

“Alright, okay,” Bruce interrupts because hey. “Don’t mistake me for someone who can’t sleep in cotton sheets, Kent.”

“Can you though?” Clark teases.

“What?”

“Sleep without your Egyptian silk sheets?”

“I’m not even going to ask why you know what sheets I have.” Because it’s not going to be any of the reasons Bruce wishes it was. He’s got these navy-blue sheets that would compliment Clark’s skin so well, if only he was somehow on top of them. Or under, Bruce isn’t picky.

“You’re kidding,” Clark says, mouth agape.

“Yes, obviously,” Bruce says, rolling his eyes. There’s a brief pause, then: “They’re Italian.”

Clark laughs that head-thrown-back-holding-his-stomach laugh that he does when he’s bursting with happy energy. He’s doing is more around Bruce these days. It’s one of the reasons Bruce realized he’s in love with Clark; he can’t get enough of that loud, booming laugh. Another reason is Clark’s never-ending willingness to help and make sure Bruce is okay.

Getting Clark to say yes to helping him out tonight hadn’t been hard. Clark is always willing to lend a helping hand to his friends and this is no exception. Bruce has been planning this for weeks and he’s got explanations and excuses ready at the tip of his tongue. Clark never asked for any, of course, because why would he? He trusts Bruce.

It doesn’t stop Bruce from overexplaining everything to Clark. There’s a reason Clark has to help him out, you see. Bruce Wayne can’t be seen going to a strange hotel by himself. He can however be seen going to a strange hotel if there’s someone on his arm. It isn’t out of the question that Bruce Wayne spends a night or two with a stranger before going back to whatever else the public thinks he does. Count clouds or smile for front pages. Either way, Clark is Bruce’s ticket to a quiet space where he can “gather the intel he needs”.

Clark, on his end, nods along with everything Bruce says like he’s not sounding like a maniac. It’s quite endearing. Another one of the reasons he likes Clark so much in the first place is how much Clark cares.

“So,” Clark says, the smile on his face an echo of his laughter. “Room service?”

Bruce orders something light “because I shouldn’t be weighed down if anything happens with the mission” (it’s definitively not nerves), while Clark orders a steak. Bruce did say he was paying and while Clark would never spend Bruce’s money just for the heck of it, he does enjoy a fancy meal every now and again.

“It’s been weeks since we’ve last shared a meal,” Clark says when Bruce eyes his food with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve been busy,” Bruce says with a shrug. Figuring out how to tell you that I’m in love with you and I think we should give us a try, damn the consequences. There’s no way he can say that so he leaves it at busy and Clark nods.

“I know,” he says solemnly. “I just missed you.”

I missed you too.

“You missed eating proper food,” Bruce says instead.

“Shut up,” Clark laughs even with his mouth full. He somehow manages not to spit half his bite out of his mouth when he sticks his tongue out at Bruce. “You missed me too, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.

You’re half-right.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bruce pokes at his pasta with his fork. This might be a good time; as good as any, at least. He looks up only to find Clark already looking back. “Clark,” he says, voice quiet.

A loud thud sounds on the other side of the wall – the wall Bruce insisted he set up surveillance near, so that he would be able to ‘get the intel he needs’. Clark turns his head and looks through the wall. His eyes have a certain set about them when he uses x-ray vision.

“They’re fighting,” he mutters, and he looks like he’s a second away from bursting through the wall.

If their neighbors are indeed fighting Bruce’s excuse may be revealed as a lie earlier than he’s planned. Bruce doesn’t even know who they are, except that it’s a man and woman under the name Mr. and Mrs. Shelling which… doesn’t tell him much. Shelling is a rather common name, and he really was more focused on making sure Clark said yes to joining him.

“Is it bad?” Bruce finds himself asking. He might be desperate to confess but not desperate enough to let innocent people suffer. He’s not fallen that far.

“No,” Clark says and returns his attention to Bruce. “She threw a lamp though.”

“That’s going to cost her. Hotels always charge too much for their interior.”

“Speaking from experience there, Mr. Wayne?” Clark asks as he wrinkles his nose adorably. Bruce takes half a second longer to answer than he usually would.

“You should see the bill from some of my stays, Mr. Kent,” he smirks. “It’s impossible to get blood out of satin; but even worse if you disguise it with wine after.”

Despite the dark picture Bruce is painting, Clark laughs. The crinkles around his eyes make butterflies flutter around in Bruce’s stomach. He should just come out and say it. Just spit it out, easy peasy.

I’m in love with you.

“Clark,” he says. “I’m-”

There’s a knock on the door. Bruce wants to bang his head against the table. Instead, he tugs his shirt from his pants, pulls his collar askew and opens the door with his best Brucie smile. He makes sure to lean against the frame, giggling like they’d been interrupted doing something much more sinful than eating dinner. He’s obscuring Clark from view, seeing as he’s probably still fully dressed, shoving steak into his mouth.

“Hi,” he says, sounding breathless.

“Are you all done with your meal, sir?” the boy asks through a burning blush. So he knows who Bruce is, great.

“I’m not quite sure,” Bruce says with a pout and then turns his head to call over his shoulder: “Are ya done eating, baby? The food, I mean.”

He half expects Clark to choke on a mouthful or even blush to match the poor boy on the other side of the door, but once again Clark surprises him. He’s not at the table anymore and his shirt is halfway off his shoulders. Even his pants are undone. Bruce swallows but quickly schools his features.

“I’m done with the food, but not quite with you, daddy,” Clark purrs in his ear as he slides his hands under Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce, to his credit, does not choke on his own spit. Or tongue. Or air. He just leans back into Clark’s touch, thoroughly enjoying the warm hands on his stomach. Inside though, inside his entire brain just bluescreened.

Needless to say, the boy leaves in a hurry not long after. He nearly misses half the utensils in his haste to get out of their room. Bruce almost follows him out just to avoid looking Clark in the eye. There is no reasonable explanation for the swoop that went through his stomach at that single word, and he will not be examining it any further. Ever.

“Was that too much?” Clark asks as he puts his clothes properly back on.

“What? Oh no, that was-” eye-opening. “Just fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh good. It just looks so fun when you get to play your Brucie role, I wanted to try it.”

“You have a natural talent,” Bruce mutters.

“Thank you,” Clark says and he’s smiling that brighter-than-the-sun smile of his, the one that somehow pulls Bruce’s own smile forward no matter how hard he tries to resist.

There’s no way he can start a serious conversation after that interaction and when Clark starts talking about how his work has been at work, Bruce listens carefully and lets the conversation flow. Maybe later will be better anyway.

The problem with later is that Bruce keeps postponing when later is. Every time he opens his mouth to say the words, his throat closes up and he feels all of fourteen again; like he’s confessing to his first love. It’s ridiculous and he’s getting frustrated at himself. Luckily Clark doesn’t seem to notice, but he does look at Bruce a little funny when he starts yet another sentence with “Clark…” and then doesn’t say anything meaningful. Bruce is pretty sure he hasn’t said Clark’s name this many times combined since meeting him.

Clark does ask if he should keep watch (or listen in) during the night but at this point Bruce is nearly sure he’ll never get to confess. He needs a moment’s quiet to think and since it’s already nearing midnight, he figures a good night’s sleep might be all that he needs. Maybe he’ll say it over breakfast. He’ll make sure to order waffles – because Clark insists they’re better than pancakes, despite them being virtually the same thing – and maybe take Clark’s hand. Look into his eyes. Tell him that he loves him. He can do that. Romantic, simple, perfect.

Before that though there’s the sleeping arrangement. Bruce has slept in smaller beds; he’s shared smaller beds as well and the more he looks at the couch the worse he feels. No matter how invulnerable Clark is there’s no way he’ll get a good night’s rest on that thing. Which is where the hard part comes in – how does he ask Clark if he wants to share the bed? It’s not like they’ve never slept near each other before on other missions but seeing as Bruce is a lying liar who lies (he’s feeling a little guilty at this point, especially after Clark offered to check out the couple next door; make sure they were who they said they were and such) he feels odd asking to share a sleeping space. It feels like it’s just an excuse to have Clark closer. Which it might be. It’s mostly about the couch looking uncomfortable though. No, really.

There’s no way Clark is a mind-reader, Bruce knows this. He knows all of Clark’s powers intimately, has them all categorized both in a physical file (shut up, he likes paper) and on the batcomputer. And yet there’s a very small moment of panic when Clark speaks and it’s like he’s looking straight into Bruce’s brain.

“Listen, I know I said I’d take the couch, but, um.” Clark gestures towards the sofa. “It looks like the springs have never been sat on in their entire existence. And the bed is a queen size, it’s not like we’ll be on top of each other.”

I wish.

“You’re right. It would be silly for either of us to sleep elsewhere when there’s a perfectly suitable bed,” Bruce agrees and is pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t sound different from how he usually speaks. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if he started giggling that Clark once again exceeds his expectations. Perhaps he already knows how Bruce feels? No, that can’t be it. Clark would have said something. Right?

He does seem visibly relieved that Bruce hasn’t rejected them sharing a bed, but he doesn’t say much else other than the expected “going to brush my teeth” and “do you have to drink coffee this close to bedtime?” to which, of course, Bruce teases him mercilessly for using the phrase bedtime about two grown men.

They lay down on the bed side by side, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but not touching. If Bruce stretches out his arm just an inch, he’ll be touching Clark’s. He doesn’t move. You would think he’d have trouble falling asleep, lying next to Clark, but it takes Bruce less than half an hour to fall asleep. There’s something comforting about sharing a space with the world’s strongest man. Even if Bruce somehow misses anyone coming at them, there’s no way Clark will.

***

Bruce yawns and turns over, throwing his arm over the waist next to him. He snuzzles into the soft skin of a shoulder and sighs happily. Then instantly freezes because that isn’t just any waist and shoulder; those are Clark’s waist and shoulder. He wants to pull back immediately but there’s no way Clark won’t wake up if he makes any sudden moves.

And Bruce is acutely aware of another… issue.

His dick is very much awake and pressed into Clark’s hip.

Bruce lifts his head slowly off Clark’s shoulder, just to make sure he is in fact still asleep. There’s no way he’ll be able to get through the humiliation of poking Clark with morning wood even if it is a quite natural thing. Bruce doesn’t do natural. He’s always in control. Well, he thinks as he glances down at his dick, still painfully hard, almost always. It’s not like he can really help it. Clark has somehow wiggled his arm underneath Bruce’s neck as they slept and now, they’re cuddling. Them. Two grown men, colleagues, friends. There’s no way Bruce can ignore the persistent butterflies rearing their lovesick heads in his stomach again, but he is certainly going to try.

Bruce dares a glance at Clark’s face, which is entirely relaxed. Still asleep then, thank God. His mouth is slightly open, but he isn’t snoring. Does Clark ever snore? Bruce hasn’t noticed the few times he’s slept near him. Granted, they mostly fall asleep so exhausted that Bruce wouldn’t notice even if Clark snored like a bear.

Realizing that he’s not caught staring, Bruce relaxed a bit and lets himself look. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to Clark without it being a life-or-death situation. He’d like more moments like these. That’s the entire reason he came up with this silly lie in the first place.

The bonus of a full night’s rest isn’t all that bad either.

Bruce’s eyes find their way back to Clark’s lips. They’re so full and pink. He feels a yearning, almost like a need as he bites at his own lip. There’s no way Clark would know. He’s asleep, deeply enough that he hasn’t noticed Bruce clinging to him. He would never know. Or maybe he’ll wake up and reciprocate. Maybe this is the best way for Bruce to tell him; without using the words that keep getting stuck in his throat. All Bruce would have to do is lean a little forward…

“Is something wrong?”

Bruce jerks back so fast he nearly falls off the edge of the bed. At least the shock is enough to put a damper on Bruce’s morning… surprise before Clark notices. He hopes Clark hasn’t noticed.

“No,” he hurries to say as he scrambles to sit upright. He sighs quietly as he realizes this is probably the closest he will ever get to what he wants from Clark. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

It’s not like they have to get dressed or do any actual work, but Bruce does take his time running a hand through his hair, brushing his teeth. This is it. Last chance. He’ll say it over breakfast, and it’ll be like ripping a band aid off. It might be good, it might not. They’ll order breakfast, Clark will keep the conversation flowing like he usually does, and Bruce will tell him he loves him.

He takes one last look in the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath. He can do this. This is Clark, his best friend. There’s no way it’ll end badly. Worst that can happen is that Clark doesn’t feel the same way. Bruce ignores the way that thought makes his chest hurt. He exits the bathroom before he can chicken out. Again.

“So,” he says and tries for a smile. “What do you say we order-”

And that’s how far he gets, before a loud crash sounds on the other side of the wall. There’s a horrifying scream and Clark doesn’t even have to look at him before they’re both running through the door. They can’t very well punch through a wall (not that Clark wouldn’t have tried knocking first; he is from Kansas) so instead they run to the neighboring room and when there’s another scream Bruce kicks the door open.

Turns out the woman from last night was in the room against her will; she’s caught up with drug dealers and when they tried to have her be their mule, she fought back. She’s alright, given the circumstances and thankfully won’t be pressing charges (something about it not being worth the trouble), so they don’t have to make excuses as to how they beat up three guys while also protecting the woman. Even more lucky is the fact that she doesn’t seem to recognize Bruce, so there’s a chance there won’t be a story about Bruce Wayne kicking down doors in tomorrow’s gossip column.

What isn’t so lucky is that when they’ve made sure she’s alright and the bad guys mysteriously get picked up by Superman and dropped at the nearest police station (thank you, super speed), it’s checkout time and Bruce has not even come close to confessing.

If he believed in fate, he would say that it has spoken. He isn’t supposed to tell Clark how he feels. It settles heavily in his stomach as they pack their few items and close the door to their hotel room. They still have to somehow convince the manager that the door handle of the woman’s room exploded by itself…

***

“Did you get what you needed?” Clark asks when they step out of the hotel.

“More or less,” Bruce mumbles. It’s just ‘less’, really, seeing as he’s managed to not only not confess to Clark, but he’s also managed to turn his faux mission into a real one, albeit a much smaller scale than what they usually go for. He’s happy they were there to help the woman out but he’s slightly bitter that he hadn’t foreseen something like that happening. Now he’s wasted both their time; Clark could’ve been out saving people and instead he’s been cooped up with Bruce in a small hotel room. And that’s not even mentioning the awkward bed-situation. Which will, coincidentally, never be mentioned again.

All he managed to do was get a little situation-religious and take it as a sign that he isn’t supposed to tell Clark how he feels. At least he tried, right? He’s pretty sure Dick won’t see it that way. It’s going to be an embarrassing and awkward conversation when he gets home.

Bruce sighs and turns to Clark to say their goodbyes. He doesn’t get far before he feels wind in his hair and the world is a blur around him. Not a second later he finds himself in a nearby alley. He looks at Clark and opens his mouth to ask what the hell that super-speed move was for but all that gets past his lips is a little squeak (that he will deny until the day he dies) as Clark covers them with his own.

It's a gentle kiss, not unlike what Bruce has been imagining their first kiss to be like countless times but it’s somehow a thousand times better than all his dreams put together. Because this is real. This is Clark kissing him, cupping his jaw and wrapping that strong arm around his waist to bring them closer together. It’s not like Bruce hasn’t kissed other men before; he’s kissed plenty, thank you very much, but it has been a while since kissing involved butterflies in his stomach and clutching desperately at someone’s arms to keep from falling over. He hasn’t had a jelly-knees kiss in years, if not an entire decade.

Clark’s lips are soft but firm, pressing against Bruce’s like they belong there. The hand on Bruce’s face is gentle and Clark rubs at his jaw with his thumb in a way that makes tears spring into Bruce’s eyes. He’s happy they’re closed, because he doesn’t think he could take explaining that reaction to Clark right now. He’s being so gentle and sweet and it’s making Bruce’s head spin. He wants to keep on kissing Clark forever, or at the very least the next couple of hours. Eventually though they have to part – if only for Bruce to breathe properly.

Clark takes a tiny step back but keeps his hand on Bruce’s jaw for a full minute (no that Bruce is counting the seconds or anything). He’s just looking at him, soft smile on his face. Bruce isn’t blushing – he isn’t! – but his cheeks feel warm. He doesn’t look away though; let’s Clark look all he wants. If he’s searching for anything in Bruce’s eyes, he doesn’t say if he finds it. He merely drops his hand slowly and takes another small step back, so their bodies aren’t touching anymore. Bruce feels oddly cold.

“Thank you for a lovely time, Bruce,” Clark says with a grin. “I can’t wait for our second date.”

“Second-?” Bruce’s head in spinning. Clark just kissed him. In public. Outside any sort of camera view. There’s no reason for him to do so and yet here they are: Bruce nearly out of breath just from one kiss and Clark looking like he just won the lottery.

“Next time, don’t bother with the excuses, I’ll be okay with dinner and a movie.” Clark winks at him and then he’s off. Bruce is left staring after him like a gaping fish, despite Clark walking away like any other human would.

There’s no such thing as keeping secrets from Superman, huh? Although Bruce suspects this one might go to Clark Kent. He finds he doesn’t mind that at all.

[fire-fist-ann]

flower crowns

Sabo, you do know we are on a mission, right?” the brown hair girl questioned as she stared down at him on the ground. “Come on, don’t be that way, Koala. Just sit down and have fun!”. He said with a giant smile crossing his lips, staring up at her from his spot amongst the blue and orange flowers under his body.

Her brown brows furrowed as she crossed her arms.“We have work to do, that’s the whole reason we are out here in the first place,” she said, sounding exasperated with the man. She leaned down closer to their faces, so close to each other yet so far away.

“Come on Sabo, we do not have time for this–” she tried to say, only to let out a loud “OOF” as Sabo grabbed her wrist, yanking her right into his lap, his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder.

“Don’t be like that, mh? Maybe you're jealous that I'm paying attention to the flowers more than you?” She sat there wide-eyed, feeling the back of her neck and her ears growing hot as the blush dusted across her cheeks. He put a finger to his lips “You know, what if we made flower crowns? I know you have always wanted to make one. Could it be our thing?” he suggested with that dumb cheerful voice of his.

Koala let out a sigh of defeat: she knew she had to admit she lost the game with that stubborn man. “Fine. But we can’t stay here too long, you know”. She said, turning around and pinching his round cheeks. “Uh-huh, you say so, but you had made no move to get out of my lap,” he teased the poor brown-haired woman.

He moved his large hands and placed a bunch of orange butterfly weeds and a bundle of blue bluebells in her much smaller and cute hand “Let’s use these, Koala!” He suggested to her before her brown eyes glanced down at the bundle. “ Hey Sabo, do you know what these flowers mean?” she asked him, her face feeling hot. She knew that Sabo knew those flowers and what they meant, but so did she.

“Nope, not a clue. Why don’t you tell me?” He asked in a light but teasing manner, the same he always does when he already knows the answer to the question he asked.

Part of her was certain that he just liked to hear her talk. She let out a heavy sigh, tilting her head back to look up at him from her position.

“Butterfly weeds are supposed to represent joy, while it is said that Bluebells are the flowers of undying love”. She could hardly get out with how much she was stammering from her own embarrassment, it was just a coincidence that these were the flowers he had grabbed.

He queried with a blonde brow “Oh really? Had no idea but I think it fits us. Butterfly weed makes me think of you, it almost matches your hair,” He said as he took a strand of her brown hair and brought it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on the lock between his fingers.

Koala stared up at him with wide eyes. Did he like her? Her brain could not wrap around the thought of the very idea that stubborn idiotic Sabo liked her the same way she loved him. It almost felt as if her heart was about to physically burst out of her chest at that exact moment. She could not handle another act like this or she would lose it or, even worse, do something embarrassing again (like the last time she had tried to confess to him, but she ended up telling him “Happy Monday”).

She was interrupted by her thoughts as she felt his finger pinching her cheek. “Earth to Koala, where did you go?” He cooed in her ear, only to jolt when she flung her arm in surprise and hit him on his cheek.

She sulked seeing the red mark on his face and waved her arms frantically “I am so so sorry Sabo, I swear it wasn’t on purpose! I must have spaced out and then you scared me so I just acted–“

Sabo let out a laugh before he grabbed her waving hands “Hey careful, you’ll mess up the flowers there. But if you’re really sorry then… how about kissing me?”

She and Sabo had locked eyes in complete silence for what felt like a solid hour before he puckered his lips.

“Come on, you hit me hard!” he baited, only to find himself blinking when she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

Well, that really was his fault, wasn't it? He never directly said where she could kiss him. But she was so cute he just wanted to grab her face and kiss her. Sabo’s lips curled up into one of his sunshine smiles, but Koala could not raise her eyes to look up at him. She was almost glad she was sitting in his lap like this, mostly because it was harder to turn around and look at him.

“I thought we were making flower crowns?” “We are, I'm gonna show you how right now. You have your flowers, right?” Sabo placed his own flowers next to the ground beside him, his fingers brushing over the flowers in her hands. “First, we are going to braid the flowers like this,” he explained, showing her how to twist and braid the vines of the flowers together. Koala watched as her hands tried to copy his movements.

Sabo was really good at everything he did, sometimes it felt like everything came so easy to him. But what she did not know was that he forced Betty and Ivankov to teach him for months: there were times it almost felt like he would never be able to do it, he even went as far as to practice in his spare time on missions.

Koala let out a groan of frustration as another one of her vines tore and snapped the crown she was making. “This is not fair, how are you so good at this? I'm never gonna get this Sabo, this is the fourth time!” She said dejectedly as she hung her head down. Sabo could have sworn he saw little rain clouds floating over her. “Hey now, don’t be like that, you'll get it. I had to have others teach me. Here, just follow me once more, okay? It does not need to be perfect at all.” “...I guess you are right for once.”

He rolled his eyes despite the laugh that left his lips. He held her hands once more this time moving her fingers, helping her braid the vines. Koala’s brown eyes widened seeing how they weaved into the tight braids Sabo was showing her. After a couple of long moments, Sabo smiled widely “Ahah! There we go, all done”.

He held out the lovely flower crown gleaming under the sunlight: the lovely Bluebells and the orange butterfly weeds just made them seem all the more enchanting as he placed the crown on the top of her head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his face glowing alight. She was beautiful, how had he really never noticed before was beyond him. His lower lip trembling “Sabo, are you okay? You’re shaking…” Koala asked with worry in those big doe brown eyes of hers.

“H-huh. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts”, He said, his voice having a little edge of nervousness to it. She quirked a brow since when did Sabo get lost in his own head? He was the type to act first and think later more than often. “You big liar, what terrible scheme are you brewing now.” “Why do I have to be scheming anything?! Can’t I just enjoy spending time with my best friend?” He asked with a tone of amusement laced in his words.

Koala narrowed her eyes “That makes me trust you even less. Just spit it out, Sabo, it can’t be that bad.” Sure how was he supposed to blurt out that he finally saw her as a girl he had never really considered one? He was so sure she would freak out on him but, if he really had to pinpoint when this started, it would have to be on the last job they did together, where they had to pose as a married couple.

Sabo was never one to think of marriage, he really didn’t care about relationships nor did he have the time to partake. But with Koala, part of him wanting to see her in a pretty white dress… the idea became more and more stuck in his head.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by Koala pulling on his cheeks “Hey, I am talking to you! First, you drag me out here while we are working and now you're ignoring me. What is the matter with you ?!” “Let’s get married!” He blurted out, giving the poor woman whiplash from how fast she whipped her head around to face him. “WHAT?!” she exclaimed with wide-darting eyes, feeling like the wind was knocked right out of her chest. Her face resembled one of those ripe cherry tomatoes that they had growing on the base.

Sabo at this point just about was ready to surrender himself to the navy rather than deal with trying to come back from what he just said out loud. He rubbed the black of his golden locks “Ah, did I say that out loud?” He asked with the hope he really had not. “You did and you have not explained yourself!”

He gulped with a nervous expression as he could feel the sweat on his forehead. Well, crap, he would just have to bite the bullet, wouldn’t he?

Sabo turned his body so he was facing her before he grabbed her round face, which made her stare and let out a sound as he leaned closer. A sound of surprise, when his soft lips pressed on her own smaller ones.

Koala felt like the wind had knocked out of her body once more. She moved her hands, gripping his shoulders. The kiss felt so right and something out of a fairytale. Her body felt so light as if she was dreaming the whole thing up. If you had told her four days ago when she left with Sabo that he would have kissed her, she would obviously have laughed it off.

When he pulled away and the air came back to her lungs, she turned a scarlet color “S-Sabo! What was that?!” A cheeky smile crossed that handsome face of his “Well Koala, that was a kiss. I did not realize you didn't know what that was.” “ Now is not the time to get smart, Sabo,” she cried out with tears threatening to bubble up. There was no way Sabo really liked her, he was playing a cruel joke on her!

Upon seeing her tears, he jolted “H-hey, did you hate it that much?” “It’s cruel to play with a girl’s feelings, you know? You're being a jerk!” She said as the tears rolled down her round cheeks. Sabo moved his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away “ I should have made myself clear Koala. I am not pulling a prank, I am in love with you. I have always been since we met.”

Koala kept getting whiplash at his words “W-what… Why, there are so many girls who are in love with you, Sabo. So tell me, why me?!” “Why you? Why not you Koala, I don’t want anyone but you.” Her lower lip trembled as she gulped “You really feel that way?” “Of course I do, haven't ever said anything I don't mean Koala. You are the most beautiful girl I know, inside and out.” “ Why have you never said anything until now?”

Sabo let out a laugh “I tried, but you kept misunderstanding me. Still, you haven't answered me either, do you like me?” She placed her hands over the top of his warm calloused ones. “I do…I love you, I thought you didn’t like me.” His blue eyes widened before he softened. “Then… After this job, let’s go on a date, mhm?” “Sounds like a plan, be on time for once.” “I wouldn't dream of being late.”

[roseianxiety]

uhh... 21 with dukexiety? if you wanna? for the valentine's day prompts. hope you're doing well!

Prompt - 21 [love confessions]

Thank you so much for the ask!! Anyway, I wrote this in a hurry so it might not be that good but I hope you like it

Valentine's Day Promptlist

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

Heart Problems

Ship: Romantic Dukexiety

CW: Kissing, swearing

It was the day of hearts. Or if you're boring enough, it's Valentine's Day. And Remus was scouring the whole mindscape to find the whereabouts of a certain cute emo he has fallen head over heels for and he desperately NEEDS to confess to him now or his heart will burst or something. And now he stands in front of Virgil's room, staring at it for a bit, and without a thought, he busts in, startling Virgil who is still half asleep on his bed. “Remus, what the fuck!?? It's 5 am!".

Virgil says angrily rubbing at his eyes. His dark locks are messy and sticking everywhere and there's drool coming from one corner of his mouth. He looks adorable and Remus just wants to kiss him or bite him even. Maybe both. “Sorry I woke ya”.

“No shit. Why are you here this early anyway?" Virgil asks while sitting up, his hair falling into his face a little bit. And suddenly all of Remus' straight(ha)forwardness and confidence was gone. He remembers he was going to do the unspeakable or whatever the fuck you call it. Confess his undying love for Virgil.

“Well uh…” He pauses for some second, but he can't focus properly when Virgil stares at him like that– so intense, so open, so pretty... he clears his throat. “Oh shit, fuck, uh– will you stop looking at me like that? You're going to make my heart explode and I'll die from it, man.”.

Virgil blinks at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing. He was so confused about what the actual fuck Remus meant by that. "Like what exactly?". And oh shit, he sounds so innocent and soft and Remus can't take it. He needs to talk about it before he explodes into pieces. “You know, like… like that. Your eyes. You make them sparkle and your lips are soft and they look like they could fit perfectly with mine. And if you're going to stare at me like that I'll die and I can't confess to you and shit.".

Well, it's weird and that's an interesting way of putting it.

He didn't get an answer, Virgil still looked at him in sheer confusion, clearly not understanding what he just said. Remus took a deep breath before dropping the bomb. "I'm hopelessly in love with you. You always make me have heart problems just by hearing your voice or when you look at me and the voices in my head only scream for you and you only.". He waited. A beat. Two. Three. And then Virgil's cheeks bloomed red. “Oh. Oh.".

Virgil said, sounding completely shocked. "I…" He trailed off, looking down at his hands. He had no idea how to react. How does one react after hearing such declarations? After hearing someone confess their undying love for them out loud? For real?

He looked back up at Remus. His face was flushed and he seemed nervous. “I... like you too.". Virgil admitted quietly and Remus just stared at him as if he'd grown another head. “I did for quite a while but… I wasn't sure if you were feeling the same way or not so I didn't bother to confess to you". Remus was speechless for a moment. Virgil likes him? Virgil liked him back?! And he didn't even realize it? His heart was thumping inside his chest, it felt like it was going to break out of his rib cage and fly.

"Holy shit... Can I kiss you?"Remus asked out of a sudden as he plopped next to Virgil, gripping on both his shoulders to steady himself because holy shit, this is happening. This is really happening. Virgil blushed again but nodded. Remus leaned closer and pressed his lips on Virgil's, his hands fisting his shirt. Virgil responded immediately by wrapping his arms around his neck. Their lips moved against each other languidly at first and then Remus broke the kiss, breathing heavily and staring at Virgil's parted lips. "Can we do it again?", he asked breathlessly, making Virgil blush harder and nod eagerly.

Remus wasted no time and crashed his lips on Virgil's once again. They kissed lazily but intensely until they once had to pull away from each other again to breathe properly. Virgil's cheeks remained dusted pink. "I've been wanting to do that for ages". He chuckled slightly at that comment and rested his forehead on Remus', closing his eyes. "So much." He whispered.

"So do I! I can't believe I just made out with you... I think my heart might explode right now", Remus replied and laughed at his own joke. “I never thought I would get to actually kiss you". He added and Virgil pulled back a little bit to look at him properly. “Me neither" He smiled warmly at him.

"What are we now? " Remus asks him, a playful smile forming at the corners of his lips.

Virgil responds sheepishly, "Boyfriends?".

The word itself sounded foreign to him. Even thinking about it gave him butterflies in his stomach. “Boyfriends." Remus agrees and kisses Virgil again. Just because he can. It tastes sweet and familiar, like home. Remus thinks it's the best thing ever.

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

Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

[spade-of-hearts]

Flower crowns

Sabo, you do know we are on a mission, right?” the brown hair girl questioned as she stared down at him on the ground. “Come on, don’t be that way, Koala. Just sit down and have fun!”. He said with a giant smile crossing his lips, staring up at her from his spot amongst the blue and orange flowers under his body.

Her brown brows furrowed as she crossed her arms.“We have work to do, that’s the whole reason we are out here in the first place,” she said, sounding exasperated with the man. She leaned down closer to their faces, so close to each other yet so far away.

“Come on Sabo, we do not have time for this–” she tried to say, only to let out a loud “OOF” as Sabo grabbed her wrist, yanking her right into his lap, his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder.

“Don’t be like that, mh? Maybe you're jealous that I'm paying attention to the flowers more than you?” She sat there wide-eyed, feeling the back of her neck and her ears growing hot as the blush dusted across her cheeks. He put a finger to his lips “You know, what if we made flower crowns? I know you have always wanted to make one. Could it be our thing?” he suggested with that dumb cheerful voice of his.

Koala let out a sigh of defeat: she knew she had to admit she lost the game with that stubborn man. “Fine. But we can’t stay here too long, you know”. She said, turning around and pinching his round cheeks. “Uh-huh, you say so, but you had made no move to get out of my lap,” he teased the poor brown-haired woman.

He moved his large hands and placed a bunch of orange butterfly weeds and a bundle of blue bluebells in her much smaller and cute hand “Let’s use these, Koala!” He suggested to her before her brown eyes glanced down at the bundle. “ Hey Sabo, do you know what these flowers mean?” she asked him, her face feeling hot. She knew that Sabo knew those flowers and what they meant, but so did she.

“Nope, not a clue. Why don’t you tell me?” He asked in a light but teasing manner, the same he always does when he already knows the answer to the question he asked.

Part of her was certain that he just liked to hear her talk. She let out a heavy sigh, tilting her head back to look up at him from her position.

“Butterfly weeds are supposed to represent joy, while it is said that Bluebells are the flowers of undying love”. She could hardly get out with how much she was stammering from her own embarrassment, it was just a coincidence that these were the flowers he had grabbed.

He queried with a blonde brow “Oh really? Had no idea but I think it fits us. Butterfly weed makes me think of you, it almost matches your hair,” He said as he took a strand of her brown hair and brought it up to his lips, leaving a kiss on the lock between his fingers.

Koala stared up at him with wide eyes. Did he like her? Her brain could not wrap around the thought of the very idea that stubborn idiotic Sabo liked her the same way she loved him. It almost felt as if her heart was about to physically burst out of her chest at that exact moment. She could not handle another act like this or she would lose it or, even worse, do something embarrassing again (like the last time she had tried to confess to him, but she ended up telling him “Happy Monday”).

She was interrupted by her thoughts as she felt his finger pinching her cheek. “Earth to Koala, where did you go?” He cooed in her ear, only to jolt when she flung her arm in surprise and hit him on his cheek.

She sulked seeing the red mark on his face and waved her arms frantically “I am so so sorry Sabo, I swear it wasn’t on purpose! I must have spaced out and then you scared me so I just acted–“

Sabo let out a laugh before he grabbed her waving hands “Hey careful, you’ll mess up the flowers there. But if you’re really sorry then… how about kissing me?”

She and Sabo had locked eyes in complete silence for what felt like a solid hour before he puckered his lips.

“Come on, you hit me hard!” he baited, only to find himself blinking when she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

Well, that really was his fault, wasn't it? He never directly said where she could kiss him. But she was so cute he just wanted to grab her face and kiss her. Sabo’s lips curled up into one of his sunshine smiles, but Koala could not raise her eyes to look up at him. She was almost glad she was sitting in his lap like this, mostly because it was harder to turn around and look at him.

“I thought we were making flower crowns?” “We are, I'm gonna show you how right now. You have your flowers, right?” Sabo placed his own flowers next to the ground beside him, his fingers brushing over the flowers in her hands. “First, we are going to braid the flowers like this,” he explained, showing her how to twist and braid the vines of the flowers together. Koala watched as her hands tried to copy his movements.

Sabo was really good at everything he did, sometimes it felt like everything came so easy to him. But what she did not know was that he forced Betty and Ivankov to teach him for months: there were times it almost felt like he would never be able to do it, he even went as far as to practice in his spare time on missions.

Koala let out a groan of frustration as another one of her vines tore and snapped the crown she was making. “This is not fair, how are you so good at this? I'm never gonna get this Sabo, this is the fourth time!” She said dejectedly as she hung her head down. Sabo could have sworn he saw little rain clouds floating over her. “Hey now, don’t be like that, you'll get it. I had to have others teach me. Here, just follow me once more, okay? It does not need to be perfect at all.” “...I guess you are right for once.”

He rolled his eyes despite the laugh that left his lips. He held her hands once more this time moving her fingers, helping her braid the vines. Koala’s brown eyes widened seeing how they weaved into the tight braids Sabo was showing her. After a couple of long moments, Sabo smiled widely “Ahah! There we go, all done”.

He held out the lovely flower crown gleaming under the sunlight: the lovely Bluebells and the orange butterfly weeds just made them seem all the more enchanting as he placed the crown on the top of her head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his face glowing alight. She was beautiful, how had he really never noticed before was beyond him. His lower lip trembling “Sabo, are you okay? You’re shaking…” Koala asked with worry in those big doe brown eyes of hers.

“H-huh. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts”, He said, his voice having a little edge of nervousness to it. She quirked a brow since when did Sabo get lost in his own head? He was the type to act first and think later more than often. “You big liar, what terrible scheme are you brewing now.” “Why do I have to be scheming anything?! Can’t I just enjoy spending time with my best friend?” He asked with a tone of amusement laced in his words.

Koala narrowed her eyes “That makes me trust you even less. Just spit it out, Sabo, it can’t be that bad.” Sure how was he supposed to blurt out that he finally saw her as a girl he had never really considered one? He was so sure she would freak out on him but, if he really had to pinpoint when this started, it would have to be on the last job they did together, where they had to pose as a married couple.

Sabo was never one to think of marriage, he really didn’t care about relationships nor did he have the time to partake. But with Koala, part of him wanting to see her in a pretty white dress… the idea became more and more stuck in his head.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by Koala pulling on his cheeks “Hey, I am talking to you! First, you drag me out here while we are working and now you're ignoring me. What is the matter with you ?!” “Let’s get married!” He blurted out, giving the poor woman whiplash from how fast she whipped her head around to face him. “WHAT?!” she exclaimed with wide-darting eyes, feeling like the wind was knocked right out of her chest. Her face resembled one of those ripe cherry tomatoes that they had growing on the base.

Sabo at this point just about was ready to surrender himself to the navy rather than deal with trying to come back from what he just said out loud. He rubbed the black of his golden locks “Ah, did I say that out loud?” He asked with the hope he really had not. “You did and you have not explained yourself!”

He gulped with a nervous expression as he could feel the sweat on his forehead. Well, crap, he would just have to bite the bullet, wouldn’t he?

Sabo turned his body so he was facing her before he grabbed her round face, which made her stare and let out a sound as he leaned closer. A sound of surprise, when his soft lips pressed on her own smaller ones.

Koala felt like the wind had knocked out of her body once more. She moved her hands, gripping his shoulders. The kiss felt so right and something out of a fairytale. Her body felt so light as if she was dreaming the whole thing up. If you had told her four days ago when she left with Sabo that he would have kissed her, she would obviously have laughed it off.

When he pulled away and the air came back to her lungs, she turned a scarlet color “S-Sabo! What was that?!” A cheeky smile crossed that handsome face of his “Well Koala, that was a kiss. I did not realize you didn't know what that was.” “ Now is not the time to get smart, Sabo,” she cried out with tears threatening to bubble up. There was no way Sabo really liked her, he was playing a cruel joke on her!

Upon seeing her tears, he jolted “H-hey, did you hate it that much?” “It’s cruel to play with a girl’s feelings, you know? You're being a jerk!” She said as the tears rolled down her round cheeks. Sabo moved his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away “ I should have made myself clear Koala. I am not pulling a prank, I am in love with you. I have always been since we met.”

Koala kept getting whiplash at his words “W-what… Why, there are so many girls who are in love with you, Sabo. So tell me, why me?!” “Why you? Why not you Koala, I don’t want anyone but you.” Her lower lip trembled as she gulped “You really feel that way?” “Of course I do, haven't ever said anything I don't mean Koala. You are the most beautiful girl I know, inside and out.” “ Why have you never said anything until now?”

Sabo let out a laugh “I tried, but you kept misunderstanding me. Still, you haven't answered me either, do you like me?” She placed her hands over the top of his warm calloused ones. “I do…I love you, I thought you didn’t like me.” His blue eyes widened before he softened. “Then… After this job, let’s go on a date, mhm?” “Sounds like a plan, be on time for once.” “I wouldn't dream of being late.”

[splitsuit]

It begins with a suggestion, to go out on the yacht for a romantic getaway, a perfect retreat on Valentine’s Day. Even if the circumstances for obtaining said boat were less than legal, it hardly mattered today. Taking in the sights of the sea, enjoying one another’s company as deep blue waves lap against the ship. Celebrating with wine, and perhaps sharing a dance or two on the deck. 

The day eventually winds down, sitting close together by the end, leaning against one another. They’ve lulled into a comfortable silence. It gives Dark a moment to steel his nerves, delicately separating himself from his love, in order to instead turn his body to fully face him. “Do you remember when we let each other in?” Reaching out, delicately taking Damien’s hand, before lying the palm against his chest, “I think about it almost every day.” 

He’s giving a closed lipped smile, a deep fondness shown within lidded eyes. 

“You’ve bewitched me since that day, have changed my life significantly. Acting as a beacon of light, cutting through the repetition, the bleak never-ending cycle that used to be everything I was. I have found that there is so much more with you, have found hope and joy with you. Feelings I always deemed an impossibility for creatures like us, but became clear through your charm, resilience, and the warmth you’ve shown me.” 

He releases Damien, only to reach into his breast pocket to pull out a small, black box. 

“I know we have already agreed to spend our lives together for all eternity, but since that day, since we’ve let each other in, I feel differently than I did back then. The truth is, I love you, Damien. You have my heart in the palm of your hand, I am forever yours. There is no future without you, even if we weren’t bonded. Will you marry me?” 

The box is opened, revealing a black ring, an iridescent shine of blue and red glinting when moved underneath the light. 

Valentine's Day

ICY waters surround them from all directions , the COLD of the season has the oceans a paler blue with the foams a pearly white when beaten against the hull . In the far distance , their home was more of a SILHOUETTE and even in the THAWING of Winter , the sun settling but the SHINE still warming them . It was special today , all these years together and every Valentine's Day before this one .

There was still something so very different about this year .

What is he to say ? What is he to do other than LOVE his sweetheart , who was a gift he would not have had in this lifetime , despite not obeying to the LAWS of time and gravity and yet they still fell into the right circumstances to be here now .

If you mix all the colors of the rainbow , the color you receive would be BLACK . Understanding what was happening as there was a draw away and the knowing what he was doing in real time . His black eyes held so much VIVID emotions , and smile wider with the peeling open of that little box . It was beautiful , it was so RARE to find love , to find a partner to last forever despite being let in . Dark , was different in every way unimaginable .

A gasp of air from the question , from the undying love he is to confess . All his words were swallowed and cocooned into his fluttering soul . Wet eyes never dare spill over his cheeks but he does , he says YES with several nods as the ring was placed on his hand .

It slides into place , never loose and not so tight ; a PERFECT fit just like they are to each other .

[sinsandsuccubus]

Bf!Jack Things

Masterlist ☽ ☾

                                          ☽ ☾

SFW

Calls you stink

“Jack, you know that’s not an endearing word, right?”

“Well, it’s endearing to me.”

Buys you matching sunglasses

Criticizing him for buying shades instead of prescriptions

“You literally cannot see, but you want to buy regular designer shades.”

“You gonna leave me and my bad eyes alone.”

Taking care of his hair

“I can’t believe you used Cantu”

“I didn’t know any better”

“Yeah well now you know, shame on you.”

Stealing his shirts/hoodies cause he’s huge

“Babe, have you seen my Kentucky sweatshirt?”

//is wearing it// “I have no clue where it is.”

Keeps a list on his notes app with all your orders from your favorite places to eat and drinks

Takes off your makeup when you're too tired to do it

Religiously FaceTimes you after every concert

“Babe, the crowd went crazy, I think that was the best show yet!”

After every show you didn’t go to he would make sure to smother you in love

Lays on your chest telling you about how good or bad the show

Rents out restaurants for the two of you to eat at in peace

Pays for your manicures & pedicures (if you’re into that)

“Let me see your nails..” “Oo~ these look good on you ma. I saw this design on Pinterest, you should totally get it” //whips out phone//

If he comes in from a rough day, he’d crawl up your body and go under your shirt and lay his head on your boobs

Is your personal weighted blanket

Has nightmares when he sleeps on his back, so he likes to lay on you

Definitely loves being the little spoon, in secret though

Sometimes has insecure moments

For example, if you’re watching or listening to someone who fits your type, he feels a little bit insecure about what you see in him

But he’ll take that with a grain of salt as soon as you confess your undying love for him, then he gets cocky

“Motherfuckers ain’t got nothing on me, couldn't even bag the best girl”

Is fiercely loyal to those he loves

Would go above and beyond to shower you with love and take care of you

Would buy you things just cus

“Jack, you don’t have to spoil me so much”

“Well, I want to so deal with it.”

Is important to him to provide for you and make it so you don’t have to work

Would sometimes bicker with you because you don’t want to feel dependent on him

“Jack, I can provide for myself, you don’t have to do everything for me.”

“I know but I want to. I want to give you the world.”

“But Jack, you’re my world”

//he cries//

Carries a piece of you everywhere he goes

Y’all have matching necklaces

“I want to have a part of you everywhere you go, and which versa”

This leads to…

NSFW

Makes a mold of his dick for you (as a sex toy) to use when he’s away

“Did you seriously give me a mold of your dick?”

“Yeah, so you’ll have the real thing. Well, not the real thing, but a copy.”

Loves to spank your ass

Has left a bruise from where he’s slapped your ass in the same spot, multiple times

“Babe, pick a new spot, I’m bruising”

“But I like this spot” //smacks it again//

Asks you to send him nudes or lingerie pictures when he’s either at the studio a lot or away

“Damn ma, you got me bricked up in the hotel room right now. You wanna help me handle that?”

Phone Sex

Makes sure your nails are always done so you can leave scratches on his back

Would absolutely fuck you in the studio and then use the recording of your moans on a song

Loves your ass but also loves your titties

Would titty fuck you and cum on them

Is into cum play

Definitely has a breeding kink

“Well, we gotta make those eight daughters happen somehow.”

Size kink

“You look so small underneath of me ma”

He’s confident enough that he would love having toys in the bedroom

Would see them as his “best friends”

“They’re my allies, not my enemies”

Is down for some things, but would need some convincing

Could probably convince him with chicken wings and ranch

“Babe, I’ll buy you a big bucket of KFC and a whole bottle of ranch if you try this new position with me”

"I'm in"

Aftercare

Totally takes care of you. Like full care

Washes your body and allat

Offers you a massage

“You did so well for me mamas, let me get your shoulders. Are they hurting here?”

Is into bath bombs and shit

“Babe, this is rose scented. Oh! And it has little rose petals embedded”

Makes you drink herbal tea

“Oo~. See babe, this one relaxes your muscles”

Cuddles you and showers you with love and affection

“You’re such a pretty girl. You did so well for me.”

“You’re all mine, allmineallmineallmine.”

He sleeps soundly in your arms

It’s the best sleep he ever gets

Is forever in love with you and makes sure to remind you before you fall asleep

“I love you forever mamas”

-

Major shoutout to @hoodharlow @jackharlowsthings @mortirolo & the notorious 🧚 for helping me out. Y'all the realest

Also shoutout to anyone else who helped me. Y’all know who you are, and I appreciate you

[ninjakk]

The symbolic meaning behind A-Yuan's butterfly toys

There is such a beautifully poignant moment during the Yiling date chapter, where A-Yuan is playing with the two grass butterflies that LWJ bought him. The minute I read it, it made me smile at how sweet and innocent it all was. But it also pulled at my heartstrings a little, due to the symbolic meaning of the butterflies and what I felt like it foreshadowed.

Chapter 74

Knocking his bowl, Wei WuXian called a couple of times, but Wen Yuan was still looking down, holding two butterflies and mumbling. At times he pretended to be the one on the left, saying shyly "I… I really like you"; at times he pretended to be the one on the right, saying happily "I really like you too!" Being two butterflies at the same time, he seemed to be having lots of fun.

- ExR translations

To me MXTX uses the butterflies to express the unspoken feelings that WWX and LWJ have for each other. I think this small, yet sweet scene, could also show A-Yuan may have picked up on WWX and LWJs true feelings for each other - perhaps on a subconscious level. Children are incredibly perceptive and can pick up on things adults often miss. He may have only seen them together for a few hours, but he's spent a lot of time with WWX and could possibly see how he acts differently with LWJ. Either way, I don't think it's a coincidence MXTX chose to have A-Yuan play with the butterflies - he also has the clay dolls he could have used for his little directorial debut!

The fact A-Yuan is making the two butterflies confess they 'like' each other, echos how WX truly feel for one another. It's almost like the unspoken words they could have, and should have said so many times before. It is certainly allusive of the opportunity they had to confess their feelings during this particular scene as well.

The fact MXTX (or indeed A-Yuan) has made one shy and the other happy, draws parallels between LWJ and WWX's personalities. Much like the WX bunnies with their quiet and energetic personalities respectively. Personally I think it's quite clear MXTX deliberately made A-Yuan portray the two butterflies in this way. Especially if you take a closer look at the original version of MDZS, where the 'shy' and 'happy' personalities are not mentioned - so it's evident that MXTX later added this to enhance the scene, for a very specific reason.

If we look even deeper into this, there may even be more meaning behind the use of butterflies - as I said earlier, MXTX could have used the clay dolls instead. Butterflies are often used as a symbol of love in Chinese culture. More specifically, it can symbolise an undying bond between lovers. They can also represent death and rebirth. Which all fit with the theme of the novel perfectly.

MXTX likes to use little references and pay homage to poems and Chinese culture within the novel. And personally, I think the use of butterflies could be a nod to a particular classic Chinese love story. According to some, this is one of the reasons butterflies often symbolise love in Chinese culture.

There is a tragic yet romantic, Chinese legend known as The Butterfly Lovers (梁祝). Coincidentally (or perhaps not?), there are a few parallels between MDZS and the story as well. Much like our lovely WX, the two lovers in the legend met while studying together, where they develop an instant chemistry. The two main characters even experience misunderstandings that prevent them from becoming a couple. Eventually one of the star-crossed lovers tragically dies and the other follows soon after - which is where our duo obviously deviate, thankfully! The lovers spirits become butterflies and they fly off together, never to be separated again. Which somewhat echoes WXs own ending, where they elope and pledge to be with each other forever.

Something fell from Wen Yuan’s pocket. He called out, “Butter… Butterfly!” With him in his arm, Wei WuXian had already rushed outside the restaurant. Soon, a white shadow swept by him. Lan WangJi seemed to have followed them out as well, walking beside them. Wei WuXian, “Lan Zhan? Why are you following us?” Lan WangJi put into Wen Yuan’s palm the butterfly that he dropped.

Personally, I don't think the above scene is just a means for LWJ to follow them, because he would have either way! It's also symbolic. The two butterflies are suddenly separated, much like WWX and LWJ are later, for some 13 years. Eventually (or two seconds later in the above scene!) they are reunited, just like the butterflies above. It also represents A-Yuan's loss. He loses one of his butterflies, just like he will soon lose WWX - only to have them both reunited, together with him, eventually. It broke my heart when I noticed this tiny moment.

Just like the two frisky male bunnies used as a metaphor for WWX and LWJs true feelings earlier in the novel. The butterflies are used to foreshadow the path their entwined fate will eventually take as well. MXTX's writing style is just absolute poetry and I can't get enough of it.

🦋❤️🦋

[softukiyos]

the enemies to lovers project | lee minho

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 -- 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~18𝘬+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!!! 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 >.< 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥!

prologue.

“You know I despise you, right?”

“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it's any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”

“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”

Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”

You couldn't help but laugh, and you glanced over at the camera pointed at you and Minho, with your mutual friend, Han Jisung, directing the operation. Right, both you and Minho would receive a hundred dollars if you participated in his little social experiment about love. Of course, he'd wanted the two of you to do it for free, but neither of you would budge unless there was at least a little bit of monetary incentive. You loved Jisung, you really did, but you weren't going to willingly spend time with Minho unless there was something else to gain. 

“Alright, let's get started before the two of you claw at each other's throats like a pair of angry cats,” Jisung clapped his hands together as he stepped out from behind the camera, “I assume the two of you have a basic idea of the experiment?”

“Of course not, Sungie. It's not like you ran through your proposal to me through FaceTime twenty thousand times before presenting it to your professors,” Minho replied with a pleasant smile. 

“And it's not like I read through your written proposal double that amount before you had the courage to hand it in,” you supplied with a similarly saccharine expression. 

Jisung sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, “Why are the two of you genuinely the nicest people I’ve ever met but somehow turn into demons when you’re together?” He muttered, mostly to himself. 

“It’s not too late to get rid of us and find some other test subjects, Sungie,” you called out with a smile, “We know we’re hard to handle.”

“No way. The two of you are perfect for this project, and I’m not going to let either of you slip out of my fingers after I worked so hard to get you two here,” Jisung refused your offer. Clearing his throat, he decided to begin, not wanting to give either of you more time to get hostile.

“Alright, so you’re both familiar with the basics. The experiment will take about one month, and the data will be recorded in these notebooks,” he said, the camera behind him recording his verbal instructions as he walked forward and handed both you and Minho a small, leather bound notebook, “These will serve as your diaries for the duration of the test.” 

Minho perused through the empty lined pages with a snort, “What are we supposed to do, write our undying confessions on these pages?”

“You’re going to write your honest feelings about each other. And by honest, I mean really do mean honest. Neither of you are ever going to read what the other person writes about you, so you don’t have to worry about your reputation or whatever,” Jisung explained, “I’ll be extrapolating information from your entries and your entries only.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at Minho as he closed the book and and leaned back in his seat, “So that’s it, right? We date for a month and write down whether we still hate each other after every encounter?”

Jisung threw a weary glare at him, “Theoretically, yes. The purpose of this experiment is to see if the actions of love will foster any actual feelings of love to appear even if there weren’t any in the first place. The two of you will go on dates, leave each other cute notes, anything that you would do with your significant other. And after each of these, you will write down a diary entry about how you feel about that person. At the end of the month, I’ll collect the two notebooks to write my thesis. Any questions?”

You glanced at Minho, who raised a questioning eyebrow at you as if waiting for you to speak first. After a long moment of palpable silence, your lips curved into a smile, “A bold move of you to find the two people least likely to develop feelings for each other, Sungie.”

Jisung dropped his psychology major professionalism for a moment and smirked, “You know I never half-ass anything. So no questions?”

Minho raised his hand obnoxiously, speaking before Jisung even bothered to call on him, “What happens if one of us falls for the other? Do we win something?”

“No, you competitive little shit. No one is winning or losing anything. This experiment is just to document the progression of romantic feelings or lack thereof,” Jisung glared at his best friend, “You’re not trying to prevent yourself from changing your feelings about the person one way or the other, got it?”

But Minho was no longer paying attention to him, his annoyingly beautiful smile now aimed at you across the table, “You’re going to fall in love with me so quickly, Sungie’s little experiment will be over in a week.”

Your competitive edged roared to life at the provocation, and you smirked, flipping the pen around your fingers, “Your diary is going to be filled with love letters to me once I’m through with you.”

“Oh dear,” Jisung groaned to himself as he walked over to shut off the camera, a weary expression visible on his face.

This was going to be a very long month. 

i.

You never once thought there would come a day that you would walk out of your apartment to see Minho waiting for you, nonchalantly leaning against his blood red accented motorcycle and his famous leather jacket.

“What is this?” You asked suspiciously, as if poking at his intentions with a ten foot pole. 

Minho rolled his eyes, “I'm taking you to class? Why else would I have dragged myself out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“You're taking me to class on this?” You gestured toward the motorcycle with a hint of disdain, but Minho saw right through you, his lips curling in a smug smile.

“There's no need to be scared, baby,” he sauntered towards you and patted your head, “I'll always protect you.”

Scowling, you swatted his hand away, “Don't do that. It's so weird,” you huffed, fixing your hair. 

“You know that's the point of this whole damn thing, right?” Minho said with a hint of annoyance as he felt churlishly irritated by your constant resistance. Did you really hate him that much?

“No, the point is to do these actions in a genuine and heartfelt manner. Everything you say is fake,” you said plainly, looking him straight in the eye.

Minho couldn't help but scoff, “How is it supposed to be genuine when I don't feel anything for you?”

“You start off with basic friendship. That's not as hard, right?” You said as you reached into your large bag and pulled out a container of milk bread, “Here. This is my Day 1 gift for you.”

Minho’s face went slack as he took the container gingerly, treating it like a live explosive, “You made this?”

“Yeah, made two loaves last night,” you answered, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone. Okay, this was awkward, and you couldn't help but cringe as you extended your hand, “If you don't like it, I can take it back—”

“Hell no,” Minho yanked his arms away from yours and pulled the plastic container to his chest defensively, “You gave it to me, so it's mine!”

You blinked in surprise, your hand falling to your side, “I see,” you said before shifting on your heels and nodding, “Okay, I'll see you later, whenever that is,” you took the chance for a quick escape, turning and beginning to walk to class. 

“Wait.”

A gasp left your lips as Minho grabbed your wrist, making you turn back around to face him, “I have a helmet for you, okay? And I'll drive slower,” he muttered, his eyes trained on the floor and darting around anxiously, “I won't get you hurt, I promise." 

You studied him carefully, his tone of voice, his posture, anything that would give away some hidden agenda, but there was none. Looking down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you relented, "Alright, I'll go with you." 

Minho nodded, leading you over to his motorcycle and grabbing the extra helmet from behind. Before you could take it from him, he moved it out of your grasp, "Have you ever even used a motorcycle helmet before? If you put it on wrong, it's not going to do you any good," he said snappishly as he adjusted a few of the straps and fitted it onto your head. 

Unconsciously, you held your breath as he leaned towards you, slipping a finger between the strap and your chin before snapping it shut, "It's not too tight, yeah?" he asked as he pulled away, and you could only shake your head mutely, "Good." 

Swinging a leg over, he climbed onto his motorcycle, easily putting his own helmet on before turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor, "Here. Climb on behind me." 

You eyed the motorcycle with a hint of disdain as you approached it, “And what am I supposed to hold onto so I don’t fall to my untimely death?” You asked dryly.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong question to ask, and the gleam apparent in Minho’s eyes told you that, despite his surprising show of kindness, Lee Minho was still Lee Minho, and Lee Minho was a fucking asshole.

“Why, you hold onto me, of course,” he said pleasantly, “Unless, you’d rather fall off the bike and shatter your bones. The other option is to walk, but seeing that it’s almost 8:30 already, you’d probably end up being late.”

Clenching your jaw so hard you were sure it was going to be sore for days, you stalked over to the motorcycle and swung your leg over it, climbing on haphazardly. You’ve seen the movies; you knew how you were supposed to ride a motorcycle from behind, and your arms tentatively wrapped around Minho’s midriff, avoiding as much bodily contact as possible.

Minho snorted, “You know, if you hold on like that, you’re gonna fall off anyways.”

“Mind your own business--fuck!” A squeak left your lips as Minho suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward. Out of pure instinct, your arms tightened around him, and you buried your face in his back. The time could not have been more perfect, and you felt a rush of anger as you realized that he was just messing with you, “Don’t fucking do that!”

The asshole just laughed, “Aw, come on, I wouldn’t have done it for real. But you seriously need to hold on, okay?”

You huffed, scowling underneath the helmet as you kept your arms locked around his waist, begrudgingly learning your lesson, “Just drive.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Minho revved the engine again and started the journey, albeit with a much smoother start as the two of you began to speed down the street and towards the literature building. 

When you arrived at your destination with Minho pulling up right to the front of the building, you were practically squeezing him like a life-sized plushie, your eyes squeezed shut and your face smushed into his leather jacket.

“You can let go now, darling,” he chuckled as he used his foot to push out the kickstand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you detached from him like two magnets of the same pole, getting off the motorcycle. 

“I am--” you gasped for breath as you yanked off your helmet, “never doing that again.”

Minho laughed as he took the helmet from you and put it in the container at the back of his bike, “Hey, you’re here with five minutes to spare! If anything, you should be thanking me, sweetheart.”

Your glare was frightening as you finally relented with a huff, “I’m grateful for the ride here, but next time, no motorcycle, please.”

“Next time? Who said anything about a next time?” The boy positively giggled as you realized your mistake. Minho never said anything about a next time! What were you thinking? Now, he probably thought you wanted him to take you to school every morning, which was absolutely not the case!

“Oh, whatever!” You snapped, utterly fed up as you threw up your hands in total exasperation and marched up the staircase without so much as a goodbye. 

Minho’s smug laughter echoed in your ears as you stepped into the building, “Love you too, sweetheart!” 

~

(name): day 1 

action(s): drive to school 

notes: utterly infuriating. an arrogant, smug, flirtatious little shit that thinks he’s the king of the world. he brought his motorcycle out of the blue to pick me up when he knows i flipped out the last time i rode one with jisung (yes, sungie, i am still mad). 

i did get to class early though, because of him, and that’s rare for me. silver linings, i guess.

~

lee minho: day 1 

action(s): drive to school

notes: a stuck up little princess as always, whining and complaining about every little thing that doesn’t go her way. shouldn’t she be happy enough that i came to take her to her class? nope, she just kicked up a fuss about it being a motorcycle. did she think i was going to remember when she had a meltdown riding it last time? (it was funny, sungie, don’t mind her.) i barely got so much of a thank you when i got her to the lit building, early, no less.

the milk bread was good, though. maybe i’ll try to convince her to make me another loaf.

ii. 

First dates were always weird. First dates were even weirder when you were about to go out with your fake-social-experiment boyfriend that you didn’t even like.

What were you supposed to even wear? Were you supposed to dress to impress (not that Minho would ever be impressed with anything you do)? Or were you supposed to dress like you just rolled out of bed? In the end, you opted for something in between the two extremes, hoping that you weren’t going to face the embarrassment of being over or underdressed.

Luckily, Minho didn’t change his daily look too much for the date, opting for a pair of ripped black jeans, a loose t-shirt, and--of course--the leather jacket he never left home without. At this point, you were honestly convinced that Minho was having some sort of romantic relationship with that jacket.

But what was out of the ordinary was the small bouquet of vibrant carnations that he held in one hand as he browsed his phone with the other. They looked wildly out of place in comparison to the rest of his get up, and the contrast was so amusing to you that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him.

“Are those flowers for me?” You asked sweetly, clicking your heels. Minho glanced up from his phone, his eyes darting up and down, and you knew he was assessing your outfit the way you had assessed his. 

“No, these are for my other social experiment girlfriend,” he said with a dry smile, handing them to you, “I heard from Jisung that you hate flowers, so of course I had to get you a bouquet for our special day.”

“Carnations are actually my favorite type of flower, so thank you very much,” you replied, sniffing at the bouquet before glancing around, “Where’s your motorcycle again? In maintenance?”

Minho’s face twitched for a split second before he nodded, “Yeah, I scratched it up real bad. We can just take the bus again.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but you said nothing more about the topic as the two of you walked to the nearest bus stations. After the first day, you had never seen Minho’s motorcycle again despite the fact that he walks you to your class almost every other day (he skips the days when he has work). What was even more suspicious was that he always had an excuse for not bringing it: he crashed it and it needs maintenance, he forgot to fill the gas tank, Jisung was borrowing it, etc. 

They weren’t bad excuses, but it’s been almost a week, and you were beginning to suspect that there was more to the missing motorcycle than he was telling you.

“Who recommended this place?” Minho asked as you took the seat at the station and he leaned against the wall.

“Jisung did, actually,” you laughed a little, pulling out your phone and clicking into the link of the restaurant Jisung had sent you, showing it to Minho.

The boy scrunched his nose with distaste as he glanced at the restaurant images, “Did you really think it was wise to leave our first date in the hands of the man who’s never actually had one successful date before?” 

“He said it was a control variable or whatever,” you said, placing your phone back in your purse, “Besides, I checked the reviews, and most of them only had good things to say. Why? Is this not your ideal first date?”

Minho scoffed, lips curling into a smirk, “I don’t really do first dates, sweetheart.”

“Oh? So what do you do?” You asked with a hint of annoyance clear in your tone, “One night stands?”

The boy shrugged, “Mostly. Why put the effort to try and create something concrete when it’ll fall apart soon enough anyway?”

You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at his words, once again being hit with the realization that you and Minho were as different as people came, “That’s a rather morbid way of looking at things.”

“It’s realistic and it’s safe. That’s all I really need at this moment,” Minho said shortly as his eyes darted down the street, and he pushed himself off the wall, “The bus is here. Let’s go.”

Without stopping to wait for you, he walked to the edge of the sidewalk as the bus pulled up to greet him. There was nothing you could do but silently follow him, wondering what Minho had gone through to adopt such a cynical mindset about love. 

“What about you?” Minho asked rather suddenly when the two of you had arrived at the restaurant, settled into your table, and were already waiting for your food to arrive. There had been such a long interval of time between the previous conversation and the current one that you didn’t even process the intention of his question for a long moment.

“I’m sorry?”

Minho bit his lip, and he looked like he was regretting the fact that he couldn’t contain his curiosity, “What are your experiences with first dates?” He asked, resting his elbows on the table, “You have had a few, right?”

With a questioning eyebrow, you swirled the small amount of red wine in your glass, “I’m not quite sure whether your question is a genuine one or just another insult.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Minho asked innocently. 

Rolling your eyes, you sipped at your wine before answering, "I've had a few first dates, fewer seconds, and no thirds." 

Minho considered your words, "What went wrong? Clashing personalities? Scheduling conflicts?" 

You scowled, placing down your glass as you grit your teeth, "You're a nosy little shit, aren't you?" 

“Hey,” Minho raised his arms in mock surrender, “if I'm about to be your social experiment boyfriend for a month, I should know what I'm getting into, for my sake and yours.”

Leveling a withered glare at him, you couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that Minho had a point. If the two of you couldn't be honest with each other, this experiment wouldn't work. Like the mastermind had said early on, honesty was a key part of the project. Damn you, Han Jisung. 

“Eventually, every man gets annoyed by the fact that they'll always be second in importance,” you finally spoke as you swirl the wine again, “They say they understand, but in the end, they'll never settle for a woman who puts their passions over their relationships. They want attentiveness, constant coddling, constant affection. They want to be nagged, they want me to be the one that messages first, and I'm just not the type.”

For the first time, Minho’s gaze upon you was devoid of arrogance and that giant defensive wall he’d always had up. His expression had turned almost thoughtful in a way, as if he was really looking at you, really trying to see you for who you were, and you couldn’t help but cringe slightly under his stare, smiling bitterly, “Did I scare you off, too?”

Minho seemed to jolt out of whatever daze he was in, a laugh leaving his lips, “Nah, princess, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled, putting down his wine glass as he spoke again, “It’s not your fault that they felt inferior dating someone that was more driven than them. It’s their loss, honestly.”

“Really?” You failed to hide your surprise, not expecting to find support in someone that was so different from you.

“A relationship isn’t supposed to hinder you from doing the things you love. You’re supposed to do them in tandem and support each other during the process,” Minho said, and as you searched for the punchline, for the part of the conversation where Minho would bark out a scathing laugh and point at your disappointed face, you realized there was none. You suddenly had a strange revelation that you may have misjudged the man sitting across from you. 

“If you have such a wise impression about love, why do you never try it out?” You asked softly, studying his expression like always, but you stopped searching for something malicious about him, since the search had been fruitless so far. Now, you were simply curious, slowly trying to learn more about him.

Minho shrugged with a wry smile, “Just because the solution exists in theory doesn't mean it truly exists.” 

"You don't think you'll ever find someone like that?" You asked. 

"Well, if they're out there somewhere, they haven't shown up in my life yet, so..." Minho trailed off, his expression rather nonchalant at first glance, but you were slowly getting better at reading him. He felt wronged, probably by someone in the past that didn't support his endeavors. 

You let the conversation drop as your food finally arrived, and the seriousness of the evening seemed to dissipate as the food took precedence. When the bill was finally paid (the two of you split it after a long discussion), you walked out with your arm looped around Minho's, and despite yourself, you didn't hate it all that much. 

“So, we're gonna beat the shit out of Jisung for forcing us to go to such an expensive restaurant, right?” Minho hummed as the two of you walked back to your apartment. You tried not to focus on the fact that Minho hadn't pulled his arm away, keeping you snug against his side. 

“I like the way you think,” you laughed, your heels clicking against the ground, “Tell you what, how about the next date, you pick somewhere you normally go to in your free time, and I’ll do the same for the date after. That way, we don’t have to spend an atrocious amount of money unless we want to.”

Minho stopped short, and for a minute, you wondered if you’d overstepped his boundaries. Then, he turned to look at you, a surprised, almost soft, smile on his face.

“You want to see me that much?”

It would’ve been so easy to dismiss his words as sarcastic teasing, like the rest of your conversations have been for the past year that you’ve known each other. But his tone, his expression, it felt almost genuine, like he was pleasantly surprised that you were willingly offering up your own time to spend it with him.

And at that notion, your cheeks felt unnaturally hot as you averted your eyes, “Well, the experiment is supposed to last a month,” you mumbled, finding a very interesting divot in the ground, “What type of social experiment girlfriend would I be if we only went on one date?”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s smile dimmed ever so slightly at the mention of the experiment, but he still felt that weird, fluttery feeling nonetheless. He knew you were probably just too shy to admit anything truthful to his question, and he didn’t fault you for it. It wasn’t like he was being very honest either.

“Well, I rather enjoy our little escapades, so I suppose I can spare a little effort to plan the next date,” Minho said with faux weariness, making you elbow his side playfully. 

“I swear, if you drag me to another horror house like you did when we went out with Jisung--”

Minho let out a laugh at the memory, “Didn’t you punch the zombie that jumped out near the end?”

“Not a word.”

“And I think you screamed at one of the ghosts, too?”

You frowned, reaching up and messing up his perfectly styled hair, “Not a word!”

Minho didn’t take any of your threats to heart, teasing you relentlessly about that incident all the way back to your apartment, but to be totally honest, you didn’t mind it all that much.

~

(name): day 6

action(s): first date (control)

notes: the date wasn’t bad except for the ridiculous pricing. we actually had rather interesting conversations about our interests, outlooks on life, and had a rather heated argument about whether prisoner of azkaban or the order of the phoenix was the best harry potter book. 

minho’s nice. i know you’re probably laughing at me as you read this, future jisung. but he’s nice. the flowers he got were really pretty. he’s a good listener, too, and he doesn’t give false comforts. he tells it to me as it is, whether it’s good or bad. i like that about him. he also looked really good for the date, but that’s rather surface level, right? whatever. i hope this is even minutely useful to your project, jisung, bcs it doesn’t feel like it’ll be much help.

~

lee minho: day 6 

action(s): first date 

notes: han jisung. the meal was $150 and we both ordered the cheapest things on the menu. fucc you. 

the date was alright, though. (name) actually got dressed up for the date, so i felt a little bad. she’s putting more effort into this project than i thought she would, and i don’t know whether its because she genuinely wants to know me better, or if its bcs it’s your project, jisung. (i know she used to like you, it was obvious). whatever. she’s easy to talk to when we’re not at each other’s throats like usual. she makes me feel understood, which is a good feeling i guess. 

this absolutely does not mean anything special. it just means that she’s not as stuck up as i thought she was. the bar is still incredibly low.

i wonder where i should take her for our next date. the horror house is tempting, but she’s probably going to get sued if she shows her face there ever again. oh well, i’ll figure it out.

iii. 

“Why are we heading towards the direction of the horror house?”

“I promise you, sweetheart, it’s not the horror house,” Minho said for the umpteenth time as the two of you walked down the busy downtown streets together.

You remained suspicious, and as a chill blew towards you, the winter wind seeping into your bones and making your teeth chatter, you brought your hands to your mouth, blowing on them in an attempt to get them warm.

Minho let out a dramatic sigh at the sound of your silence, “Do you have any faith in me at all?” He asked, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together before shoving it in his coat pocket without faltering for a moment.

He seemed unfazed, oblivious even as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk, but you...your poor heart did a feeble stutter that certainly wasn’t the product of any social experiment. You knew the feeling well enough from your past experiences, and the fact that it emerged right at this moment made you worry.

“What?” Minho’s voice invaded your thoughts as he followed your line of sight to his coat pocket, where your hand was snugly fitted inside his. 

You tried your best to salvage what was left of your pride, “Aren’t my hands cold?” You asked weakly, “You don’t have to hold them.”

“Yes, your hands are like fucking ice, that’s why I’m trying to warm one of them up, dummy,” Minho rolled his eyes at your lame question before turning to check on the light to make sure it was still on red, “We’re almost there. The place is cozy, I promise.”

Nodding, you slowly felt your composure return to you, “As long as we get out of this cold, I'd consider it a successful date.”

“Oh dear, you've just ruined my plans for a picnic up in the mountains,” Minho said with a deadpan expression just as the light turned green.

“You're ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there wasn't any bite behind your words anymore, and Minho’s jabs at you had slowly lost that hard edge to them. Could it be possible that the two of you were really warming up to each other?

It was true that the two of you were getting along better, and in tandem, you began to be more present in each other’s lives. Minho still walked you to school on the days that he didn't have work. In return, it's become a normal routine for you to make two loaves of milk bread every other day since Minho always devoured his portion ridiculous quickly. 

Not in a romantic way, absolutely not. Both of you would cringe at the very idea. But as tolerant friends, maybe. 

“Ah! Here we are,” Minho said pleasantly as he guided you off the busy street into a smaller, quieter alleyway filled with various cafes and antique shops.

“A cafe date?” You smiled, “I didn't know that was your style.”

Minho stopped short at a particular cafe, taking his hand and yours out of his pocket as he reached forward to open the door, “Well, it's not just any cafe.”

You quickly realized exactly what he meant as you walked in, your eyes lighting up with pure elation and joy as you squealed, “It’s a cat cafe!” 

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s eyes lit up from behind you as he shut the door, keeping the winter cold out of the cozy establishment, “You like cats?” He never knew that about you.

“Like cats? I love them!” You practically gushed as you shrugged off your large coat and Minho signaled for a party of two, greeting a few of the waiters with a suspicious familiarity. 

“Do you come here often?” You asked curiously as the two of you found a nice little corner to sit down in, complete with beanbags, blankets, and little wooden surfaces that were meant to serve as tables.

Minho almost didn't need to answer your question, since the moment he sat down, four cats passed over towards him, the sound of gentle meows filling your ears. You didn't think you'd be able to hear anything more sweet, until you were proven wrong when Minho let out a soft giggle, his expression unbelievably fond as he stretched out his hand, petting their heads and scratching their ears.

When had you ever heard Minho giggle? No, not that psychotic little witch giggle he did when he was feeling diabolical. This childish, almost innocent giggle that burst from his lips. 

“I come here at least twice a week,” he said as one of the kittens clambered into his lap, “I have three cats back at home with my family, and when I miss them, I come here.”

You nodded, surprised that he was divulging information about him without being prompted, but you didn’t mind it one bit, “That’s nice. I’m sure they miss you, too,” you said, smiling as one of the more curious cats went over to you, sniffing at your hand before pressing their head against your palm.

“I’m sure they do. I was basically their servant,” Minho laughed before turning to you, “Do you have pets?”

“Oh, I wish,” your voice was forlorn and wistful as you began to rub the cat’s belly, feeling a rush of pride as they laid on their side. It was rare for any cat to do such a thing, and you treasured the moment dearly, “I had a kitten when I was very, very young, but they died only a few months after we got them. I haven’t been able to muster the courage to adopt another pet since.”

Minho pouted at the way your voice trailed off, your expression faraway, and he suddenly felt an urge to gift you a kitten right then and there just to make you smile. He was long used to seeing you angry, he was getting used to seeing you when you were at peace and smiling, but he’d never actually seen you look so wistfully sad before. 

“Well, you’re always welcome to use my membership card here if you need a break from school,” he offered rather awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the cats so he wouldn’t have to feel the brunt of your expression, which was probably weirded out. 

“You’d let me?” You sounded hopeful, giggling to yourself as a cat jumped into your lap, curling up and burrowing against your stomach.

Minho smiled, turning his head to see the way you were coddling the little kitten, stroking her fur with utmost delicacy and with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He was suddenly hit with the realization that you were incredibly beautiful, and his brain almost immediately imploded.

Wait, what? Lee Minho?! Who the fuck are you turning into?!

Unaware of his current struggle, you glanced at him when you didn’t receive an answer, and he scrambled to clear his throat, “O-of course,” he said, “You’d get a 15% discount on drinks. Super handy.” 

If you noticed his strange behavior, you didn't comment or make a face, only gazing down at the kitten in your lap as you asked teasingly,, “Does this girlfriend benefit only last the month?”

It was a joke, not at all different from the ones both of you made on a daily basis, making jabs at your rather intriguing situation, this one seemed to really hit Minho. What was going to happen when the month ends? Will the two of you go back to hating each other and fighting every moment of the day? Will all these little acts of love, the way you would occasionally drop off a bento box at his dance studio and the way he’d pick you up after your late night classes so he could make sure you were safe, would that all disappear like a dream?

“Hello? Earth to Minho?”

Minho blinked out of his daydream, tilting his head towards you to see you already looking at him with a concerned smile, “Are you alright? You seemed pretty faraway.”

“Nah, I’m good. I just remembered that I have a coding assignment due tonight,” he lied, a light tinge of rouge on his cheeks. 

“What?!” you yelped, scaring the cat in your lap as they meowed in discontent, jumping off you, “We should get going then--”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Minho grabbed your arm as you stood up, and with your balance tilted, you fell back onto the beanbag couch, although this time, you were much closer to Minho than you originally were. To stabilize yourself, your hand jutted out to press against his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat.

What sort of black magic was Han Jisung doing to him with this experiment?

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, your embarrassment clearly visible as you tried to push away from him, but Minho kept you close until the two of you were almost cuddling on the beanbag couch. 

Minho only hummed, feigning nonchalance even as his heart was doing strange backflips in his chest, “It’s fine. You’re still cold, right? I saw you shivering a bit. You can just sit here,” he said, shrugging off his coat and placing it over your legs.

“I guess...thank you,” you said rather quietly, not trusting your voice to hide the emotions that were raging in your heart: the confusion, the giddiness, the childlike excitement, and the fear, “But what about your assignment--”

“Don’t worry,” he patted your head lightly, “It’s just a simple one. Won’t take more than an hour. I’ll just do it when I get home.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Minho emphasized the last word with a teasing smile, his heart slowly coming to terms with these new, tingling emotions that he was feeling, “I never knew I’d ever experience you babying me.”

Your cheeks grew warm as you smacked his arm, “Shut up!” You complained, bringing his coat up to your face and shielding yourself, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t flunk out of school!”

“Don’t lie, you’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief only to receive another angry smack on the arm.

“You wish. I don’t fall in love with jerks like you.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I am honored by the attention,” he said with a teasing smile as he nudged your shoulder. 

Another kitten came to your position, rubbing against your thigh as you petted their little head, “You better be,” you muttered almost to yourself, “After all the bentos I’ve made for you this last week.”

Minho let out a yawn, stretching out his arms and very cautiously wrapping one around your shoulders. To his luck or misfortune, you were too enamored by the kitten to notice, and you curled into his side without much consideration. The poor boy wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to notice and confront him about it, or whether he should be allowed to feel a sense of fondness knowing that you were dropping the defensive walls around your heart with him.

He won’t tell you, but he was truly honored to be cared by you, to experience your worry, your encouragement, and your little acts of love. It came so naturally to you that you probably didn’t even hold any of those actions to any significance, but to him, the one who was always the lone wolf, the one who was always defined by his looks before his personality, it was nice to be truly seen by someone. 

Even if it wasn’t going to last. 

iv.

Lee Minho was late, and you were going to kick his ass if you didn't happen to be frozen by the time he arrived. 

You stood outside of the computer science building awkwardly, trying not to focus on the weird glances from the students walking in and out, all of whom were obviously wondering what a literature freak was doing at the center hub of the sciences. It was absolutely mortifying, and you briefly wondered if Minho ever got such stares while he waited for you outside of your building. If he did, well, you felt slightly more grateful than you did previously.

“Hey! (name), right?” 

You looked up with panic in your eyes as you quickly tracked the sound of the voice to one familiar stranger, a particular boy on campus that you never actually ever thought you'd have the opportunity to speak to.

“That's me, and I assume you're Hyunjin,” you said, getting straight past formalities. After all, you weren't really in the mood for chitter-chatter. You were just in the mood for a nice hot chocolate to warm your body. 

But unfortunately for you, Hyunjin’s disarming smile was a clear indicator that there were no escape routes plausible, “Wow, no wonder Minho snatched you up quick.”

If you had a tail, it would've bristled at this very moment, “Excuse me?” You asked, keeping your tone decidedly cordial.

Hyunjin’s smile only widened, “What is he like as a boyfriend? Does he treat you well? Or are you just another piece of disposable garbage for him like every other girl he’s fucked?” 

The final question shouldn't have fazed you, but it did. Why did the idea of such a thing send your heart into cardiac arrest? Why did it scare you so much, when you knew none of this was real? Wasn't it all just manufactured by the conditions of the experiment?

Your face must've given away more than you thought, because Hyunjin’s cheshire-like grin only widened as he took your vulnerability as a chance, “You don't have to be with him, you know. Don't you think we'd get along a little better—”

“Really fucking low of you to be trying to hit on your friend’s girl,” a hand suddenly snaked around your waist from behind, making you gasp as you felt your back pulled against someone's firm chest.

“Especially my girl,” Minho’s eyes showed not a hint of amusement or politeness as he rested his chin on your shoulder almost protectively, as if daring Hyunjin to try again.

Hyunjin regarded the two of you with cautious intrigue, his eyes darting from Minho’s hand on your waist to his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just wanted to make sure you know how lucky you are,” he smiled at Minho pleasantly, leaning forwards as his eyes sparkled when they met yours. Now, you may dislike Hyunjin, but you couldn't deny his beauty, and at such a distance, you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered as he purred, “And how easily that luck can be taken away from you.”

Minho bared his lips in a threatening snarl from behind you, making Hyunjin scoff as he turned away from the two of you without another word. A moment of tense silence screamed in the air before you cleared your throat awkwardly. This was definitely not a good way to start off a date.

“Well, that was weird,” you laughed, detangling yourself from Minho’s hold so you could face him, “I never thought I’d see the day where Hwang Hyunjin would flirt with me while he’s sober.”

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Minho suddenly spit out with a surprising amount of vitriol in his tone, enough to fluster you for a moment, “Going after someone who’s obviously dating, he just doesn’t have any shame anymore! Plus, I was literally walking behind you. He definitely saw me before he made a move.”

Finding his behavior utterly bizarre, you stared at him for a long moment before you could even speak, “Are you...pretending to be jealous?”

“What?” Minho blinked, as if suddenly realizing that you were still there witnessing the extent of his ranting. And then, your question hit him like a ton of bricks, “What the fuck? I’m not pretending to be jealous, I--”

He stopped himself before he could do any more verbal damage to his own reputation, but inside, his head in shambles.

I’m not pretending to be jealous, I am jealous. 

What was happening to him?

From the look on your face, Minho could tell you were a mixture of confused and suspicious, but you didn’t press him for more details or to finish his sentence. That was one thing he really appreciated about you. If he didn’t elaborate on his words, you trusted that he didn't say more because it simply didn't need to be said. 

"Well, we should probably get going," you said, slipping your arm around his, "I was freezing my ass out here waiting for you." 

"Then, perish." 

"You're the worst social experiment boyfriend I've ever had!" You complained, your pout clear from the sound of your voice as Minho let you lead him to whatever date surprise you had in mind. 

“I’m the only social experiment boyfriend you’ve ever had,” he pointed out reasonably, resting his head on yours while you waited for the traffic light to change. 

You let out a huff, trying to push him off you, but it was rather fruitless to make Minho do anything, really, “You’re still the worst,” you said, trying to tickle your way out of the situation.

Minho only chuckled. Two could play at this game, he thought smugly as your attacks failed and he wrapped his arms around you from the side, pulling you snug against him so he could nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with his hair and making you shriek.

“Lee Minho, I swear to God!” Despite the slurry of curse words that left your mouth, you were laughing and made no genuine attempts to pull away from him. You’ve noticed over the last few weeks that Minho was never one for blatant physical affection, but he was being abnormally clinging today. 

“Admit it, kitten,” he teased, peeking up at your expression as he smiled, “I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

The world around you seemed to freeze as the weight of that question fully sunk in. Was Minho the best boyfriend you’ve ever had? You thought back to every awkward first date, every time the guy looked strangely disappointed when you said you wanted to head home by yourself, every time one of them awkwardly mentioned that they wanted you to cheer them on at the expense of your own passions. You thought through all of those memories before you realized oh my god Minho was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

“Hmm? Oh, come on, I was kidding,” Minho seemed oblivious to your plight as he took your silence as a rejection, beginning to let go. 

“You are.”

The words slipped out of your lips before you even realized what you had said. Minho’s eyes widened rather comically as he tried to make sure he was making the right mental connections in his head.

“I am?” He repeated slowly.

“You are...the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you muttered the last half, your face burning as if you’d eaten a whole bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. 

Minho blinked, his entire system short-circuiting.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly shuffling on the heels of your feet before you found your escape, “Oh, green light! Let's get moving!” Your voice was bright and overly cheery as if you didn't just drop a bombshell of a revelation on both Minho and yourself. 

Minho practically stumbled over his own feet to catch up to you, “H-hey!” He grabbed your hand before you could pass the halfway point of the large intersection, where the light was manually turned red by one of the buses.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and back up at his face before answering softly, “Thanks.”

He nodded in response, trying not to put too much attention to the way your fingers curled around his, trying not to put too much attention to the way your hand fit in his, and asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, you brought me to the place you like to go to destress, so I figured I would do the same,” you answered, reaching into your back pocket and pulling out a key that looked suspiciously like Jisung’s access card to the music building.

“Tell me you didn't steal Jisung's access card.”

“It's not stealing if I'm returning it before he knows what happened,” you shrugged.

“Um, yes it is.”

You glanced up at him with a playful smile, “You gonna rat me out, darling?”

That name of endearment shouldn't have affected him so much, but it did, and he physically had to restrain himself from holding your hand tighter as he scoffed, “I'm no snitch, especially not when it comes to my beautiful social experiment girlfriend.” 

You let out a laugh, “You’re definitely the king of heart fluttering pet names.”

The rest of the walk to the music building was filled with idle chatter as the two of you slowly got back into the rhythm of your usual banter. At some moments, it was even easy to forget about the way you’d hug his arm to your chest as if shielding yourself from the cold. It was even easy to forget about the way his hand would gently squeeze yours if he felt you shiver too violently beside him, a silent check up on you. It was far too easy to call all of these little actions as normal, as if he was actually your boyfriend. 

“Are you sure we're not going to get caught?” Minho asked as the two of you walked to the side door of the music building. Although, he didn't sound very concerned about potentially getting in trouble, only slightly curious. 

You slid Jisung’s card into the reader and the door unlocked with a click, “I've done this for years. Even if people do check the rooms, there's lot of places to hide.”

The boy only chuckled, holding the door open so the two of you could walk in and escape from the biting winter cold. After wiping off your shoes using the doormat, you gingerly took his hand again and lead him up the stairs to the end of the hall where you pulled him into a dark room.

“Kitten, if you wanted to find a private little place for us to have some fun, we didn’t need to go all the way to the music room,” Minho said, amused, “I know plenty of lockable closets around the campus—”

“That’s so gross,” you said as you turned on the light, revealing that the two of you were in one of the group music rooms, with a piano sitting at the center of the room and a couple of instruments stored on the sides. 

Minho placed a hand on his heart, “Mean,” he huffed accusingly at you. He was mostly kidding, of course, but a part of him felt a genuine despair at the fact that you didn't seem to be remotely flustered or enticed by the idea of being with him in that way, with such intimacy. 

“Don't worry, Min. There will be plenty of fish out there desperate to jump into your arms soon enough,” you flashed him a wry smile as you grabbed one of the guitar cases and brought it to the carpet near the piano.

“Min?” He repeated, the nickname making him feel slightly better even as your words dampened his spirits. Did you really think he would be that eager to go back to his normal “no-strings-attached” routine after this month? 

For the first time, you looked a little flustered as you sat down on the soft carpet, opening the guitar case with a few clicks of the locks, “Sorry. Do you hate it?” You asked sheepishly, “I just figured that you give me so many petnames, I should try to give you one, too. But if Min isn't good—”

“It is!” The boy interrupted a little too eagerly. Catching your surprised expression, he immediately controlled himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he sat down across from you, “Yeah, Min is fine. Min is good. It's just...new.”

“No one's ever called you Min before?” You asked with a curious expression while you pulled out the guitar with what Minho noticed was practiced ease.  

He shrugged, “I don't think anyone’s ever given me a nickname before.”

I don't think anyone’s ever reached that level of closeness with me, was the unspoken follow-up to his statement. After all, what type of one-night stand would ever result in names of endearment or genuine emotional attachment?

“Hmm...maybe I should take it up a notch and call you Minmin,” you said absently, testing the tension of the strings and being totally unaware of the spiral you just send Minho down on.

Minmin? Minmin? The poor man was turning into a pile of mush before you and you didn’t even know what you did. Minho was sure that if you ever called him Minmin, he’d throw away everything to do as you asked. 

“If you want,” he said, shuffling awkwardly as he sat across. 

You glanced up at him, giggling as you finished tuning up the instrument, “So this is my de-stress room,” you said, “I like occasionally coming here to write songs or just play the instruments here.”

“You play instruments other than guitar?” Minho asked, sounding rather impressed.

“I used to play piano as a kid, actually,” you explained with a smile as you checked the A string, “Jisung taught me how to play guitar in our first year here.”

Minho bit his lip, struggling to keep control over his expressions, “Right.”

Never before in his life did Minho ever think that he’d be sitting across from you and feeling jealous about Han Jisung’s relationship with you. It wasn’t secret knowledge; he knew you used to like his friend, and you used to like him very much. It wasn’t like Minho minded; you were the one of the decent ones and you genuinely liked Jisung for who he was. Something must’ve happened in the middle of the second year, because you gradually seemed to pull away from Jisung at least in a romantic manner. Minho never thought much of it. But now, he was beginning to fully realize how close you and Jisung actually were, and how much that was beginning to bother him.

Did you still like Jisung? That was the question that always haunted his mind. Were you doing all of this for the boy in your past when Minho was here falling harder every single day? 

“Hey, Min?” 

Your voice broke into his thoughts as his ears perked up, “Yeah?” He answered with an uncharacteristically gentle voice. There was something about the way you spoke that felt hesitant and uncertain, rather unlike you, and he wanted to make sure that you felt comfortable being here with him.

“D-do—“ you swallowed nervously, “do you want to hear one of my songs?”

Minho’s eyes widened. As a friend of Jisung and the other two famous producers on campus, he was no stranger to hearing music that they produced. But because of that, he knew how much these songs meant to the people who wrote them. How personal they can be, and how terrifying it could be to share them with others. And the fact that you were willing to bare that part of your soul to him was a gesture of trust that he’d never expected.

“Do you want me to listen?” He asked with caution, “You really don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I do!” You blurted out before your cheeks grew warm, “You shared a big part of yourself with me when you took me to that cat cafe, so I wanted to do the same.”

Minho felt a little speechless, so all he could do was nod and give you an encouraging smile. Taking his gesture as acceptance, you cleared your throat softly and began to strumming out a simple chord progression. 

The poor man was immediately entranced. There wasn’t any hope for him anymore. The moment you opened your mouth to sing, Minho fell into silent awe as he let your soft, soothing voice flow through his body. There was something so present about your voice, about the lyrics you sang. Everything just felt so raw that all he could really do was watch and listen with a gentle smile on his face.

When you finished, you opened your eyes and hesitantly turned to face him, “Well?” You prodded, a hint of nervousness slipping out of your lips. 

It took Minho a few moments to put his thoughts together, and even then, they weren’t totally coherent. Nothing like the smooth-tongued, cheeky persona he always embodied, “That was--wow,” he stumbled over his words.

To his luck, you didn’t seem bothered by his failure to string his words together, but only smiled encouragingly, “A good wow, I hope?” You asked. 

“Definitely a good wow. The best wow,” he nodded fervently as you laughed, waiting for him to continue, “Did you ever take classes like Jisung and Chan?”

“Oh, no. I definitely don’t have the extra money for that,” you said, resting your arms on your guitar, “But I’ve always loved to sing, and I’ve always loved hearing other people sing, too. My first childhood crush was this really cute busker who sang Hey There Delilah once near my city’s shopping street.” 

Minho’s lips quirked up in a smirk. This was much more comfortable territory for him, especially when it means teasing you, which is honestly all he ever did, “A childhood crush, huh?” He drawled, stretching out his legs, “So you have a thing for people with good voices?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “If anyone has a good singing voice, I’m at least 40% more inclined to fall in love with them.”

“Wow,” he let out a laugh, “That is an incredibly significant statistic. I’m almost worried about how shallow you are.”

You let out a noise of indignation as Minho only laughed harder, fending away your useless attacks, “I am not shallow!” You snapped, your cheeks feeling warm, “Having a good singing voice is just an added bonus!”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, even going so far as to pinch your cheek playfully, “Is that why you fell in love with Jisungie?”

“I’m not in love with Jisung--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you aren’t now,” Minho waved his hand dismissively, even though deep in his heart, he didn’t actually know and that was why he approached the topic in the first place, “But you were in love with him back then, right?”

The withering glare you gave him was weak at best, and you sighed, hugging your guitar to your chest as if it was your own personal shield, “Yes, I was. But that was years ago and we agreed to be just friends. It was awkward in the beginning, but I’m content with the relationship we have now.” 

“You are?” Minho asked, trying to sound casual as he picked a piece of lint off his pants.

You nodded surely enough for him to see that you were being genuine, “I am. Jisung is just a friend, nothing more.”

Why Minho seemed so interested in the topic that he’d ask not one, but two follow-up questions about Jisung, you didn’t know. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was jealousy or a way of making sure that you were emotionally available, but you did know better, and you knew that Lee Minho wasn’t that type of person.

Trying to bridge what was becoming an awkward silence, you cleared your throat and asked, “Do you have a favorite karaoke song? We could do a jam session here if you’re comfortable with singing.”

“You want me to sing after hearing how good you sound?” Minho scoffed in disbelief.

You visibly pouted, and Minho’s defenses immediately weakened, “Aww, I promise I won’t judge! And besides, Jisung said that you sounded good the last time you two went to the karaoke bar. It’s just the two of us, Min,” you smiled encouragingly, “We’re just here to have fun!”

Fuck everything. Fuck you and your gentle words, your soft smiles, your teasing eyes. Everything about you just made Minho want to lower all his walls and embrace all that you want to do. Letting out a sigh, he relented, “Fine. Do you know Congratulations by Day6?”

“Uh, I think the question is who doesn’t know Congratulations by Day6.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Minho scowled as you laughed, shifting the capo slightly higher on the neck of the guitar to the right tuning. Giving you time to get ready, Minho pulled up the lyrics on his phone to make sure he didn’t mess up unnecessarily in front of you. It shouldn’t matter, of course, but there was a weird fluttering in his stomach that made him almost believe that he was nervous. 

When the two of you were finished fiddling around, you glanced up at him, smiling, “Ready? I’ll give a four count,” Minho nodded, and after you rapped your knuckles against the body of the guitar four times, he opened his mouth and began to sing. 

His voice and your playing blended together almost magically, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared as he continued to sing, disregarding his phone since he seemed to know the lyrics by heart. All you had to do was follow along with your gentle strumming, listening and keeping up to the natural inflections of his voice. The room felt cozier, the sterile fluorescent lights felt warmer, and you were getting lost in the ethereal picture of Minho when--

“Why are the lights on in the hallway?” 

The two of you immediately stopped as you glanced at each other, eyes comically wide. It seemed like, much to your luck, the security guard happened to choose that very day to make his rounds, despite skipping every other day during the week. 

“Put the guitar away! I’ll turn off the lights!” Minho hissed at you as he bolted to the wall of the room and you went to place the guitar back in its case as quickly and carefully as possible. Luckily, the music room didn't have any windows on the door, and the guard couldn’t see what was happening inside unless he actually entered the room. 

The two of you just managed to put the guitar back in its original state and turn off the lights just as his footsteps neared the door. In a split second, Minho grabbed your arms and yanked you into one of the bass storage compartments, closing the closet door right before the guard opened the door to the music room, looking around curiously. 

Neither of you could even breathe in the crammed space of the closet as you tentatively waited for the guard to check the room. The storage compartment left almost no wiggle room, and Minho’s arm stayed wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so the two of you could fit.

Oh god, this was too much for you. The thumping of his heart against yours, the tickling of his hair against your ear as he had to dip down to avoid thumping his head against the top, the grip he had on your waist as his thumb rubbed your side, an instinctive attempt to calm your nerves. 

The silence screamed in the room, and the two of you held your breaths before the footsteps exited the room, and the door clicked closed. Even still, both of you stayed totally quiet for a few moments longer before Minho let out a soft chuckle.

“This is definitely a closet I haven't explored.”

You swatted at his arm, “Now is not the time to make dirty jokes!” You scolded, but Minho accepted your angry hands, happily holding you snug against his chest as he laughed. 

“If not now, then when?”

“How about never?” You rolled your eyes as you lifted your head to glare up at him, but your intentions seemed to die out the moment you realized just how close the two of you were. Minho’s face was not inches, but centimeters away from yours, your noses almost brushing and your foreheads so close that you could practically count his eyelashes. 

Minho gulped, staring down at you in panic and awe as he struggled to maintain his composure. There was so much he could do, so much he’s done before; this position shouldn’t be all that shocking for him. As he’d said before, he has had his fair share of sloppy closet makeouts and even a little more than that. Cramming into a storage closet with his arms around you shouldn’t be enough to send his mind and heart into overdrive.

But they were, because he’s never met anyone that set his heart alight like you did. His eyes trailed obviously to your lips, the way that yours eyes did to his, but he couldn’t find it in himself to make the first move. There was something holding him back, an irrational fear that prevented him from moving too quickly, a fear that he might scare you away.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly, your hands finding their home on his chest as neither of you made moves to pull away.

“About how this date took a rather strange turn,” he answered instead, his eyes glittering with amusement.

To his surprise, you look flustered and a bit ashamed at his words, “Ah, I am sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t think it was going to turn out like this. They never check the rooms, and I just wanted to show you a place where I--”

A gasp fell out of your lips as Minho pulled you forward until your body collided with his chest. He engulfed you in a tight hug, his face buried in your hair as he mumbled with what you could discern was a hint of trepidation and shyness, “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for showing me this side of you.”

Your hands stilled behind him, your eyes widening as you felt him hold you tighter. You could feel the beat of his heart, the trembling in his breath, and the remainder of the walls around your heart all but collapsed as you snaked your arms around his midriff, snuggling your face into his shoulder and marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

“Thank you for giving me the chance,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his familiar leather jacket as you smiled, “You know…”

“Hmm?” Minho answered absently, holding you close.

“I like this better than fighting.”

Minho couldn’t help but giggle at the sheer simplicity of your statement, and he couldn’t help but feel inclined to agree with you.

“Yeah, me too.”

v.

“Fuck!” 

Minho let out a trail of belligerent curses as he ran to the nearest bus station, holding his leather jacket over both of your heads to shield the two of you from the sudden and pouring rain. As the two of you were walking in the middle of the flower garden right before the weather took a sharp turn for the worse, both of you were soaked to the bone by the time you found shelter.

As you clutched at your chest, gasping for breath, you huffed grumpily at the boy beside you, who looked way too dashing for someone who was doused like a wet dog, “Weren't you supposed to check the weather?”

“Well, if we went to the arcade like I'd suggested instead of the park, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?” Minho retorted, running a hand through his damp locks. 

“It’s a Friday night. The arcade would’ve been packed to the brim and you still would’ve been all pissy.”

“It’s better than being soaked to the bone and freezing our asses off at some random bus station.”

The two of you maintained your angry tense glares for only a moment longer before you caved, rolling your eyes as a smile crept on your face, “It seems like nothing has changed, even on our last date.”

“We're destined enemies. The universe has decreed it long ago, sweetheart,” Minho chuckled. 

The most humorous thing about both of those statements were how utterly false they were, and how aware both of you were about that fact. Anything and everything that existed between the two of you had changed during the course of the month, and both of you knew it. Minho had changed from a necessary annoyance to an irreplaceable pillar in your life, a source of honesty and comfort that you've grown to relish. Even though the two of you still bickered like cats and dogs, there was something good-natured about it now.

“Well, our garden date is fucked and we can't exactly go to the arcade like this, so what do you suppose we do?” You asked with a grimace as you wrung the excess water out of your hair, “This is the last day before our project ends.” 

Minho sighed, shaking the droplets of water off his jacket as he bit his lip, turning his gaze to your side profile. You were happily oblivious to his stare, continuing to twist the water out of your hair as you stared out at the rainy street, humming softly to yourself. He could tell immediately that you were cold and doing your best to keep yourself from shivering. 

It was definitely a pet peeve of his that he’d grown more and more annoyed over as he spent the month by your side. You never liked to wear jackets or bring them along, despite the fact that you were literally cold-blooded and tended to match the temperature of whatever weather was going on around you. It got so bad at times that Minho had already developed a habit of bringing you an extra jacket or scarf so you at least didn’t catch a fucking cold while you were spending on dates with him. 

Unfortunately, the forecast had predicted clear skies and warm weather for the whole day, and Minho didn’t think about bringing that extra jacket around this time, so all you could do was perish in your cold, soaked clothes. 

“You could come over and hang out at my place.”

The words tumbled out of Minho's mouth before he could really consider the consequences, and all he could do after that was look as nonchalant as possible. 

As expected, you gawked at him as if he'd grown a second head, “You want me to hang out at your apartment?”

“Don't make me repeat myself,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot, “We could dry up there and maybe watch some Netflix or something." 

You let out a scandalized gasp, dramatically covering your chest with your arms, and Minho's face burned as he gave you a hard shove, "Not like that, oh my god!" He sputtered in total embarrassment, fully beginning to process the implications of his words. 

As the poor man dissolved in his own misery, you cackled, relishing his suffering as you ran a hand through your wet locks, "I'm kidding, genius!" You said with a laugh, "Gosh, who knew you were actually such a prude on the inside." 

If you took Minho seriously at all, his glare would have sent you six feet under. Unfortunately for him, one month of fake dating taught you that the man was a lot more bark than bite. You were basically Minho-immune at this point.

“You know what?” He closed his eyes, grabbing at whatever supernatural patience he had not to just shut you up with his lips smashing against yours, “Offers’ off. Walk home yourself.”

“Aw, alright I’m sorry!” You laughed, ruffling his messed up hair as you walked out of the bus stop and into the pouring rain, “Come on, please? I promise I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

You promising not to make fun of him sounded about as genuine as Jisung saying that he’d stop procrastinating on his homework, but what was Minho going to do? Make you walk home by yourself in this type of weather? It wasn’t that he was giving you any special treatment; this was just what any good samaritan would do.

With a roll of his eyes, he stomped over to you and flung his leather jacket over your head, “Let’s go,” he muttered. Smiling playfully, you followed him home, using his jacket to shield you from the rain as you stared at his back with a hint of bittersweetness.

The jacket still smelled like him, you thought absently as you walked in his shadow. As much as you’d tried to deny it to yourself, Minho smelled good. He smelled like Febreeze and citrus. You were going to miss the warmth of his jacket very soon, when he’d no longer be obligated to take care of you or make sure that you won’t catch a cold.

“Did you die back there, sweetheart?” Minho called behind him, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“If I died, how exactly was I supposed to answer you?” 

“Oh, my bad. I was really only asking out of courtesy,” he smirked, throwing his head back as his eyes sparkled with a mischief you’ve grown out of hating. Seeing the few feet of distance between the two of you, he extended his hand, chuckling, “Seriously, what are you doing all the way back there? Come on.”

You felt yourself grow quiet, taking a few large strides forward before you let go of the jacket and slipped your hand into his. Minho’s fingers laced with yours as he continued on his way, leading you down a couple streets before you made it to the familiar apartment complex.

Now, you’ve been to Minho’s place a couple times, so you didn’t feel too overwhelmed as the two of you rushed into the lobby area sopping wet and trying your best to dry off your shoes on the mat. However, it was always just a quick stop, like standing in the lobby area while he went up to grab something, or meeting with him downstairs before going on a date. You’d never actually been into his apartment before, and as the two of you stood in the elevator in a deafening silence, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing a little faster than normal.

“Alright, now I’m worried,” he said as the numbers on the elevator screen went up slowly, “You’re being abnormally quiet. What’s up?”

You blinked in momentary surprise, not expecting him to pry, since he wasn’t ever the type, “Oh. I’m just wondering what your place looks like,” you said, smiling.

Minho didn’t buy it for one second, but he only gave you a strange glance as the elevator doors opened, “I see. Well, it’s nothing special. It’s just like any other dumpy frumpy apartment.”

“I didn’t mean like whether it looks expensive or not,” you said with a soft laugh as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the door to the left, “I’m just wondering whether it would be clean or messy, if you like to keep it warm or cold. Those sorts of things.”

“Oh,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time, he felt a little nervous about twisting his key and opening the door. What if you had higher expectations about it than he could actually meet? Wait, did he pick up those boxers off the floor before he left that morning? He did, right?

“What are you waiting for?” You asked in amusement, watching as Minho seemed to have gone very still after he pushed his key into the keyhole. When he didn’t budge, you moved forward to turn it yourself, only for him to angle his body in front of the door.

“Uh, maybe this isn’t the best idea,” he said with a pleasant, saccharine smile.

You blinked, “Minho, we’re literally at your door,” you said just as a loud boom of thunder sounded in the distance, “And it’s thundering. Your room can’t be that horrid, right?”

“It might be a bit messy,” he argued.

“We’ve both spent game nights in Jisung’s hell hole. I think I can handle however messy your apartment is.”

That was a fair point. Minho couldn’t really find an argument against that attack. Lowering his head, he sighed, “Let me head in to tidy some things first.”

With a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms, “No problem, but I seriously don’t care, if that’s what your worried about.”

Minho could only nod suddenly before he turned the key, unlocked the door and slipped in faster than a ghost before slamming the door shut. Just like he’d predicted, his boxers were lying nonchalantly on his bedroom floor, and he shoved them in his hamper before cleaning--more like hiding--the rest of his junk in record time.

You were beginning to think that Minho had just locked you out of his apartment when the door opened once more, and he walked out with a towel in hand, “Did you hide whatever dirty toy you needed to hide?” You asked with a smirk.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he retorted, throwing the towel at you and leading you inside.

The apartment wasn’t far from your expectations. Clean, but not meticulously so, a little bit on the chilly side, and a sense of homeliness with the warm lights and lamps that he chose from the living area. You found yourself growing fonder and fonder of it by the minute.

“It’s cute,” you smiled, wrapping the towel around your neck. 

Minho tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed at the simple, but genuine compliment that fell out of your lips, “Thanks. I laid out a change of clothes for you in the bathroom. You can also take a shower if you feel like you need to warm up.” 

“What a gentleman,” you said teasingly as you placed your handbag down on the floor as you headed to where Minho had gestured to the bathroom, “Do you have people over often?” It was an easy question, not even close to brushing the real question that sat in the back of your mind. 

Is what we have special? Do I mean something different to you the way you mean something different to me?

“Actually, besides Jisung, you’re probably the first,” Minho answered, grabbing a towel to dry off his own hair as he walked towards you, “I don’t really like strangers or acquaintances in my space.”

“Oh, I should be honored, then,” you said, trying to contain your surprise as turned to face him, studying the way his damp hair framed his face and the way his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that you could never read.  You could never tell what that gaze wanted, what that gaze meant, but you knew what it did to you and your foolish little heart.

Minho’s head tilted ever so slightly as the silence hung in the air. Then, he smiled, brushing the tip of his finger under your chin, “Well, being my social experiment girlfriend has to have its perks.”

The trance shattered, and whatever moment of tension and unexplainable attraction you felt disappeared into the air as you marched towards the bathroom, “I’m glad I got to make use of it before my membership expires tomorrow,” you said, your voice tinged with sarcasm as you shut the door.

A laugh left Minho’s lips as he shook his head, walking into his bedroom and quickly getting into a change of clothes before flopping onto his couch. This experiment has proved to be one of the most difficult experiences in his life. All this time, he always knew what he wanted, and he always knew how to get it. If he wanted someone, he got them. If he wanted to pursue something, he found himself being able to achieve it with just a bit of hard work on his part. 

But with you, he didn’t know what he wanted, nor did he know how to obtain it. When he met you as Jisung’s other best friend, he never once imagined that the two of you would form such a strange yet irreplaceable relationship in such a short amount of time. He liked you, he liked you a lot. But as he found himself falling further and further, he realized that the reason this was so difficult was because he cared about you. His way of living with no strings attached wasn’t going to cut it anymore, especially since he was beginning to notice that many of his strings were tightly wrapped around your fingers. 

And despite this, the two of you were going to have to cut them all off when the morning came.

“Fuck you, Jisung. You probably knew this was going to happen, you little shit,” Minho sighed, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about the goodbye. He’d deal with it when it came.

“Uh, Minmin?” 

“Hmm?” Minho answered you absently, his eyes still closed.

“You can shower if you’d like,” you offered, the couch dipping under your weight as you sat beside him.

“Nah, I’ll just shower tomorrow morning,” Minho said, opening his eyes and physically having to fight back a blush as he saw you, his hoodie practically engulfing you whole and his sweats going past your feet. Oh fuck, did he even think things through when he picked out a spare set of clothes for you? 

You caught his stunned gaze, your cheeks immediately reddening, “L-look, they’re just a little big on me!” You said defensively as you grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it in his face, “Can’t you stop staring?”

Minho laughed, fending off your relentless pillow attacks with his arms, “Sweetheart, I swear! You actually look really cute!” 

“Shut up!” You shrieked, swinging your arms relentlessly as Minho finally had enough letting you win. Lashing out with his hands, he grabbed both of your wrists, stopping their movement and forcing you to drop the pillow as he yanked you forward. With all your momentum going in one direction, your body had no choice but to follow, and when you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on top of him on the couch, his hands still locking your wrists in place.

“Um,” you looked around, further procession the rather awkward position the two of you had taken, “did you mean for this to happen?”

Minho didn’t, but he was nothing if not an opportunist, “You can think whatever you wanna think,” he shrugged, letting go of your wrists as he wrapped a casual arm around your waist, “What? Not comfortable?”

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the position was actually quite comfortable. Minho was always built like a personal heater and whatever chill you felt from running around in the rain just seemed to melt away as he held you. 

Stop it, the little voice in your mind whispered as you tried not to focus on the fact that your face was inches from his. This date was for you to say your goodbyes, not fall farther into the black hole.

“Comfortable? Hardly,” you scoffed as best you could, pushing yourself up with your hands and curling up on the couch beside his stretched out figure, “You’re all muscle from dancing so much. It’s like sleeping on a rock.”

“Ah, these abs are hard as rock,” Minho nodded very seriously.

“I wasn’t talking about your abs.”

“Then what else can be hard?” He blinked for a moment before his smile turned unbelievably devilish, “My, my, (name)...I didn’t know you were so--”

You grabbed the pillow you’d previously discarded and shoved it into his chest, “Can we watch something?” You interrupted him pleasantly, pretending not to have even heard the beginning of his less than appropriate joke.

Minho huffed, throwing the stupid pillow to the floor as he scooted next to you, “Sure, want popcorn?” He asked, handing you the remote after turning on his TV, “Just find something on Netflix.”

“Anything you don’t like to watch?” You asked, browsing through the selections.

“Nothing horror related,” he answered as he pushed himself off the couch, heading to the kitchen.

His reply felt strange to you, and you frowned, turning around to look at him, “But don’t you love horror movies?” You asked, remembering very clearly that Minho and Jisung had first met because they both went to the same viewing of a new horror movie that you refused to go to. 

“Yeah, but you don’t, right?” Minho pointed out before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and disappearing into the kitchen area as you were left reeling at his almost blasé answer, struck by how much he’d grown to learn about you and how much he'd grown to take your feelings into account. 

Now that you thought about it, you realized how much Minho's personality had changed and affected the way you did things, not in a controlling way, but in a way that you found yourself thinking about him when making decisions. When you made your weekly batch of bread, you tended to lean towards milk bread because it was Minho’s favorite. When you went out for dinner together, you thought about what he enjoyed before picking a cuisine. When you browsed for cute accessories, your taste gravitated to cats because they reminded you of him.

Holy fuck, how deep in were you?

“You didn't pick anything yet,” Minho noticed as he poked his head out from the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to finish. 

“O-oh right,” you fumbled with the remote in your hands as you scrolled through the selections. 

Minho hummed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Hmm…? What were you thinking about, kitten?”

“Nothing, stop being nosy,” you answered with an annoyed edge as you found something that piqued your interest, “Hey, wanna watch Bridgerton? I heard some good things about it from my friends.” 

"I heard it's a bit of a shitshow," Minho commented as the microwave beeped and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the room. Grabbing the bowl and taking a few pieces for himself, he returned to the living room, jumping over the couch and plopping down beside you. 

You tried to ignore how casual it felt for him to just throw an arm around your shoulders to pull you close, focusing on the TV, “Wanna check it out to see which review is accurate?” 

“Sure, whatever you want, kitten.” 

As the two of you powered through episode after episode, it became clear that both reviews had some merit, as the series was a bit of a shitshow, but one that you wouldn't be able to stop watching. Minho and you found yourselves rather invested in the story and the characters, letting out a huge “finally” when the two leads confessed their genuine love for one another. 

“Another episode?” You asked after a short bathroom break, falling into his arms even more so than before and practically snuggling into his warm chest now. 

“Go for it, sweetheart. I have all night.”

“So do I,” you chuckled, and pressed the play button. 

However, things started to take a weird turn after you reached the middle mark of the series. Bouts of contained love had been released, and there were beginning to be many scenes that weren't quite appropriate for general audiences. You quickly realized that this was probably not the show you should've picked to watch through straight-faced with your lovely social experiment boyfriend. 

You held your tongue for most of them, just wanting and wishing for them to be over as soon as possible, but when positions started to turn towards an even more peculiar direction, you couldn't help but make one rather underhanded comment. 

“Ugh, forget the literal fanfic fake dating trope they had going on. This is probably the most unrealistic part of the whole show,” you said with mild disgust as you watched the female lead gripping on the rails of the staircase. 

“Oh?” Minho perked up at your comment almost too eagerly. Like you, he had also been suffering from the tragic case of watching a dirty scene with his totally-fake-but-also-somehow-real girlfriend, and felt a crash of relief when you spoke up about something, “And why is that, kitten?”

A noise of disbelief choked out of your throat as you gestured at the scene before your eyes, “I mean, look at them! Can you possibly expect me to believe that she feels comfortable in that position, much less enjoy it?”

Minho shrugged, “You’d be surprised how much you can ignore when you’re in the moment.”

“I don’t believe it,” you scoffed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, “At least, I’ve never had such an experience before.”

The conversation was dropped then and there, and the show continued without further criticism. But halfway through the next episode, you began to feel that you were being watched, and sure enough, Minho was gazing at you with an unreadable expression, deep in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, chuckling awkwardly, “Do I have something on my...Min?”

Your eyes widened comically as Minho suddenly shifted on the couch, leaning impossibly closer to you and gently cupping your jaw with his hand. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck. Had he lost his mind?! 

Minho seemed to answer your silent question as he stopped right before his lips could brush yours, and his eyes searched for any fear or hesitation in your expression, “Is it true?” He asked hoarsely, his words no louder than a faint whisper.

“What true?” You murmured back, looking up at him through your lashes.

The man gulped, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of control he had left in his body, “What you said earlier...about never having such an experience before.”

Oh, your cheeks reddened as bright as apples, “Why do you have to bring it up again, idiot?!” You felt your voice fail you as Minho tightened his hold on you.

“So it’s true?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Yes, it’s true! What does it have to do with you, asshole?”

Minho sucked in a breath, studying your face as his eyes shone with gentle adoration and tenderness that you didn’t even know he could possess, “Can I kiss you, (name)?”

Your name. It was your name. Not sweetheart. Not kitten. Not any other petname he could give anyone that he pleased. He uttered your name. He was asking for your permission. And like a sailor drawn in by the siren’s song, you had no hope of escaping now. 

“Yes.”

Closing the gap, your lips met as the two of you finally succumbed to the growing tension that festered with every meeting, every touch of your hands, every quip thrown both ways. Minho caressed your cheek as your hands slid to his shoulders, reveling in the kiss that was such a long time coming. 

When he finally pulled away to let both of you catch your breaths, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes blown wide as he stared at you underneath him. Swallowing, he brushed the hair away from your face, his heart warming with unrestrained affection as you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away, “Can I give you that experience you’ve been lacking?” He asked, a coil of anxiety rolling in his stomach as he studied your face for every miniscule reaction.

Any inkling that you didn’t want to, any inkling that you were only going to along to please him, he’d end it all. Minho knew very well that he was walking on a tightrope of maybe losing you forever. 

But to his surprise, you didn’t look fearful or uncomfortable, only a bit uncertain, “T-this is our last night though, a-as…” you trailed off, not wanting to make those thoughts a reality, just like Minho had been actively avoiding the topic as well.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, stroking your cheek absently with his thumb, “Maybe...we can think of this as a goodbye.”

You smiled, “It’s one hell of a goodbye,” you teased, making him chuckle. It was definitely one hell of a goodbye.

“Do you want it?” Minho whispered, hovering over you, “You say the word, and I’ll back off. Promise.”

Sucking in a breath, you decided not to live by your head anymore. With Lee Minho holding you close, kissing you silly, what was there to refuse?

“I want it,” you murmured, “I want you.”

This was the right choice, you told yourself as Minho carried you to his bedroom, treating you with a delicacy and gentleness that you’ve never experienced before. It was the culmination of your feelings for him. Maybe, when the morning comes, these feelings would wash away with your bouts of pleasure. Maybe, when the morning comes, you wouldn’t be as deeply in love with him as you were now.

Right?

epilogue.

When you woke in the morning, the rays of sunlight spilling in through Minho’s dark curtains, you were almost stunned by how very wrong you were. As you turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Minho, fast asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you knew that you were not only still in love with Minho, but you were more in love with him than you were the night before. 

And boy, did that terrify you to your very core.

Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The experiment was over, right? There wasn’t a purpose that pulled you two together anymore. There wasn’t a purpose for Minho to feel any sort of attraction to you anymore. 

Too terrified to face the love of your life when he woke, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

And you ran. 

Detangling yourself from Minho as gently as possible, you slipped out of his bed, grabbing your clothes from where they’d been haphazardly discarded around the room. You changed in record time, anxious to avoid making sound or staying around until Minho woke. It was only 8:30 in the morning, though, and you knew that Minho naturally didn’t like to wake before 9:00, so you had a bit of time.

You wanted to leave as soon as you finished changing, but your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you disappear without some form of gratitude. For the night before or for the way he’d treated you the whole month, you didn’t know. But either way, you grabbed a couple of ingredients that he had in his refrigerator and fixed him a hearty breakfast before heading to the door. You only looked back once before officially steeling yourself to disappear from Lee Minho’s life, at least until you’d be able to resolve these naive and yet deep-seated feelings you had for him.

For the rest of the week, life went on as normal for you, as if your one unforgettable month with Minho had all but faded into the wind as you had hoped that night. You finished your final entry in the diary and handed it back to Jisung the day after the experiment ended. If he had questions as to why you’d disregarded the original plan to hand yours over along with Minho’s at the same time, he didn’t bring them up. 

“Did you at least have fun, (name)?” Jisung asked before you could turn around to leave. 

You hesitated, quickly realizing that the fact that you couldn’t answer the question immediately gave away your uncertainty. After a long moment of thought, you nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

You really did, though. There was no point lying to yourself about that when you were already having such a hard time pretending that your very real feelings for Minho don’t exist. 

Speaking of Minho, you spent much of the week trying to cut him out of your life as much as possible, which was proven to be rather difficult since the two of you had such a close friend in common. You could tell that Jisung was getting a little sick of seesawing between his two best friends without knowing why the two of you were acting this way. Even back when the two of you were basically the worst of enemies, neither of you ever actively tried to avoid seeing the other.

But now, you were avoiding Minho like the plague. You avoided his school building entirely, and if you happened to see him walking down the street by some unlucky miracle, you’d bolt in a random direction and hide in a store until you were sure he was gone. 

It was a lot of effort, and you weren’t even sure if it was working, since your feelings for him seemed to grow even stronger the more you were away from him.

There was just worry that festered within your heart, this genuine concern you had over his wellbeing now that you weren’t able to check on him every day. Was he eating well? Was he skipping breakfast now that you stopped giving him your milk bread? Did he pass that exam he was worried about?

It seemed your feelings for Minho were going to need a little more than distance to disappear. 

After two weeks of moping and frustratingly obvious heart sickness on both sides, Han Jisung finally had enough with his idiotic best friends. 

You opened your door in surprise as Jisung stood at the entrance of your apartment, an unusually angry expression on his face, “U-uh, Sungie? You good?”

“Do I look good?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “How the fuck do you expect me to be good when I’ve been fucking tiptoeing between you and Minho for the past two weeks?!”

You flinched at the very mention of his name, “I’m sorry. I promise everything will go back to normal soon.”

“With the way you’re doing things, I don’t think that’s going to happen, (name),” Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly, and you finally noticed the deep eyebags he had, indicating several all nighters, “I finished writing my thesis paper.”

“Oh, congrats.”

It was easier to muster up a smile at that statement, since you were genuinely proud of Jisung for such a daring project. 

“I also read both of your notebooks.”

Fuck. That was a necessary part of writing that paper. 

You nodded, trying to keep your cool, “Okay? Did they not have enough information?”

“Forget the stupid project for one fucking moment, please,” Jisung interrupted before sighing, “At first, I thought the awkwardness came from the fact that you still hate each other, but it turns out it’s just the opposite.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jisung threw you a long look, as if silently weighing several options in his head. You could practically see his thoughts running a mile a minute, and all you could do was stand there as he finally reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar notebook.

“This--” Your eyes widened as you gazed down at the name written in Sharpie, a name that decidedly wasn’t yours, “Jisung, you can’t--”

“Yes, I know that as the operator of this experiment, giving out information that I’d originally stated was confidential is absolutely against everything that science stands for,” he said wearily, “But as your friend and Minho’s friend, this is the right thing to do.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Read it, dummy. I could tell you what’s inside, but I don’t think you’d believe me unless you saw it yourself.”

Jisung grabbed your wrist and pressed the little notebook into the palm of your hand, “I think you’ll know what to do after,” he smiled gently, his eyes filled with earnest care as he gave you a quick hug and made his way down the hall, leaving you to stand at your door holding Minho’s grey project notebook. 

With nothing else to do, you entered your apartment again and plopped down on the couch, notebook in hand. Did you even want to see it, Minho’s unadulterated truth? A part of you wasn't, but curiosity always killed the cat, and you found yourself gingerly opening the first page. 

Nothing was far from what you expected at first, since it matched quite well to your own experiences. First blatant dislike, then grudging respect, and finally, a growing fondness. You found yourself smiling as you read about how much Minho actually adored the bentos you made, even though he never made his thoughts on it entirely clear to you. 

Then, you finally made it to the last page: Day 31. You found yourself stopping short, your heart beginning to race again as your eyes scanned the first few words. 

~

lee minho: day 31 + 2 days 

action(s): last date 

notes: yeah, i know this entry is late, but i just needed some time to collect myself. 

she left in the morning before i could wake up. i can’t say i was surprised, since i told her the night could be our goodbye, but i’d hoped in some part of me that she’d stay, that we’d just carry on with the rest of the month like the ending date didn’t exist. she made me breakfast, though, so at least i know she wasn’t disappointed or upset with me about how far things went. at least i hope.

fuck, jisung, i can’t stop thinking about her. it’s been two days already and nothing i do can make me forget her. the last night just made things infinitely worse. i played with fire and im getting burned for it. i can’t get the way she felt out of my head, the way she would also look into my eyes and see me for what i am inside, not just what i look like. i miss her milk bread, i miss seeing her outside the dance studio. 

jisung, i think i love her. no fuck it, i do love her, and there’s nothing i can do anymore. she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me based on how she’d been avoiding me like the plague whenever i see her on the street. and now, i don't even know how much of what she felt, how much of what she did for me was real. did she put in so much effort because she wanted you to be happy? or was the way she hugged me, the way she spoke to me, was it all real?

it doesnt matter now. 

~

By the time you made it to the end of the page, your eyes were filled with tears and your vision blurred over. Minho...he loved you? Had you been so absorbed with wallowing in your own misery that you failed to realize that your actions were hurting him? 

Panic filled your very being, and as Jisung had predicted, you knew exactly what you had to do. You had to make amends, apologize for your actions, and at the very least, express your own feelings to him directly, even if it was too little too late. 

With the notebook clutched tightly in your hand, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door, still putting on your boots as you hopped to the elevator. Which bus did you have to take to get to his apartment? First the #2 and then transfer over to #13...right.

You bolted out of the lobby, feeling the rush of cold air seep through your bones, but you hardly found it in yourself to care. You ran to the bus station, anxiously shuffling on either feet as you waited for the next #2 line bus to arrive. When the bus finally arrived, you were already standing at the edge of the sidewalk, too jittery to sit. The doors slid open, and before you could barge inside, your jaw went slack as a familiar figure stepped out of the bus, his own eyes widened as they caught yours. 

What was most interesting, however, was the familiar grey notebook that he clutched in his hand, one that was painfully identical to the one you were holding. 

The two of you stood in an awed silence as Minho got off the steps, and the bus drove away. Immediately, you felt a wave of concern as you looked him over from a distance. Did he lose weight? Was he getting enough sleep?

In the end, Minho was the one who spoke first, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Judging by the notebook in your hand, I’m assuming that Jisung fucked us both over?”

“Y-yeah, sort of,” you answered, surprised that your voice didn’t completely fail you in such an important moment. 

Minho seemed to wait for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he spoke again, “Um, I read it. Your diary entries.”

That wasn’t a surprise, of course, see that you read his, but you couldn’t stop the wave of flushed embarrassment from washing over you as you thought about all the embarrassing things  you wrote about him, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking sheepish, “Do you really think I sound like an angel when I sing?”

Oh, if you could hide yourself six feet under, you would have. But you could nod shamefully, “Yeah.”

“Do you really like it when I cuddle with you and pull you onto my lap?” 

Was this your punishment for not being honest upfront? “Y-yes! Now can you please shut up--”

“Do you really love me?” 

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you finally looked up to stare at Minho, whose face was unreadable as always. He held up the notebook and repeated his question when you couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up an answer, “You said in your final entry that you were in love with me, that you loved every part of me inside and out, and that our final night together just made everything so much more real. Is it true?”

Your eyes filled with pain as you choked out softly, “What will you do…if it is?”

Minho’s expression didn’t seem to change, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to return to their usual sparkle just a little bit, “If it is true, then I’d call you an idiot for ghosting me.”

“R-right--”

“And then I’d walk over to where you’re standing. I’d wrap my arms around your waist like the way you love, and I’d kiss you silly. I’d tell you that I’m totally and completely in love with you, as you probably already know from my diary entires, and I’d ask you to be my real girlfriend,” Minho spoke, his voice filled with meaning as his grip on your notebook tightened, “Now tell me, is it true?”

You couldn’t even remember how to breathe as you stared at him, the cold winter wind making his cheeks so delightfully rosy that all you wanted to do was to kiss them gently and warm them up with your mittens. And as he gazed at you, the sincerity pouring out of his posture, his words, and his eyes, there was no way you could continue lying to yourself. 

“It is true,” you said, your eyes filling with unshed tears as you gripped at his notebook, “I’m in love with you, Lee Minho, and it’s tearing me apart just like it’s tearing you apart. I want to love you for real, I want to date you for real, I want us to be real.”

Minho took three large steps forward before he was right in front of you and his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist like he’d promised, and yours cupped his cheek as he kissed you with unrestrained fervor. 

Wow, he really did kiss you silly.

“No more rules, no more of this social experiment bullshit,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “Do you want to be my real girlfriend, (name)?”

What was there to refuse? 

.

the enemies to lovers project: [success]