#WHY AM I CURSED WITH THIS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. WHY CAN I NEVER ESCAPE THAT.

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[1ntaks]

we overlap.

☆ lee hyunjae x fem!reader — warnings: fluff; fem!reader who wears makeup, more feminine clothing, and has implied long hair that can have fingers run through it; mild miscommunication; drinking; cursing; unspecified small age gap; use of sunbae, hyung (sorry); hyunjae (deserves a warning of his own); flirting; kissing; a lil cringe ☆ 16.6k words, not proofread — author's note: writing style probably changes a lot, this took me a while to write and i am writing academically once more so that affects my writing. it also just took three months, i'm very slow. this is a stand alone work and the only expansion i'm willing to do is what i choose to write and publish, or small asks about their dynamic! thank you so much to my icon and savior @heedeungism for hyping me up and beta-reading. and also obligatory shout out to @cloudykyu sorry i sent you the draft and posted before you replied i love u so bad

You’d always known of Lee Hyunjae.

Not personally. He was popular, a distant figure you’d heard about via whispers in the comms department, a cool upperclassman that people looked up to. Smart. Handsome. You’d heard some people call him friendly and sweet. (Namely, your own friend, Sangyeon, who shared a friend group with the man. You’d never run into Hyunjae yourself despite this, preferring one-on-one hangouts with your, self-proclaimed, older brother.)

Most commonly, you heard that he was unapproachable. He didn’t go out much.

Which is why it was so surprising to see him walk into the math lab, holding a huge box of materials. It must’ve been heavy, his forearm muscles clearly straining as he maneuvered it on top of one of the linoleum tables against the wall. 

“Hey, Sangyeon,” Hyunjae pokes his head out in the hall, and you perk up at the mention of him. “Where am I putting the books?” You can’t hear the muffled reply, but you watch him walk back to the table, only to unpack textbook on top of textbook and slide them onto shelves.

You only regain your focus when a pencil jabs your side. “Ow!” You whine, whipping around to glare at Jimin. 

She smiles at you sweetly before responding, voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re drooling. Focus on pre-calc.” You huff, looking back over at Hyunjae. He is handsome, you decide, admiring the tight black shirt and his arm muscles. You can’t see much of his face, just a furrowed brow as he tries to organize the materials.

“I’m not drooling,” you reply finally, lamely, to your friend as you twist back towards the table. “I’m… admiring.”

She scoffs. “Right. Well, you can admire after you pass your exam,” she points the pencil at you before shaking her head and sighing. Rude. “Besides, we’re meeting Ryu in like an hour. Hurry up.”

Right. Ryujin had dance practice this morning and demanded to be taken out for lunch after. And you didn’t want to argue with her, ever, but especially not when she was hangry — you swore up and down that your life flashed before your eyes the one time you made that mistake in high school. You still had nightmares.

“I don’t understand any of this,” you whine, looking at the jumble of print on your worksheet. “Can I give up?” You pout at her. She shakes her head ‘no’ and keeps scribbling on her own paper, so you ignore her to lay your head down on the table and watch as Hyunjae breaks down the box. Sangyeon pops his head in and waves at you before checking the time.

“We gotta go, Jae,” 

Hyunjae hums, following Sangyeon’s eyes to where you rest. You smile, the small corners up one for strangers, and he gives a small smile back before turning back around. “Then c’mon.”

After a few beats of silence and the faint ding of the elevator, you turn back to Jimin. “So, um, what… what department is he in?”

She laughs, bright and genuine. “You, my friend,” she ruffles your hair and you whine, trying to smooth back the strands as you lean away from her. “Are helpless.”

“I can’t be curious?” She smiles at you. Smugly. Knowingly. Damn her. “Jimin!”

“Alright, alright,” she raises her hand in surrender. “He’s in comms, just like you.”

You hum, smiling softly. He was your upperclassman, technically, more than he was hers. Every department had one of those, right? It didn’t matter. He seemed to live up to the hype you’d heard — helpful, handsome… damn, what other ‘h’ adjective could you tack on?

“You already knew that.” Her words cut off your train of thought and you give a shy nod. “I know just as much about him as you do. If you want to know more about him, why don’t you just ask Sangyeon? They’re in the same friend group.”

“It’s not that easy,” you sulk, doodling roses in the upper right corner of your worksheet. In an ideal world, you’d get extra credit points for making the math prettier. “Sangy will think I’m into him.”

She levels an unimpressed stare at you and sighs, packing up quickly. “Then suffer. I don’t know.” You scrunch up your face in distaste at her words, but hold her water bottle without complaint as she finishes cleaning off your table. “Let’s go. I would kill for some pho right now.”

Her words spur you to scramble after her towards the elevator. Worries about Sangyeon’s nosiness aside, you hadn’t eaten since seven-thirty and you were almost positive that you were starting to see noises as the hunger got to you. 

Jimin told you that you were insane. You took it as a compliment.

Sangyeon invited you to his birthday party with his closest friend group. They had planned it, apparently as a surprise but he told you they were god awful at hiding it.

You were a bit hesitant, since you were awkward around new people, but you wanted to be able to celebrate his birthday with him for the first time since you’d become friends. You’d met in late November last year, when you were crying over finals. He’d never let you live it down, but you were glad it happened, as embarrassing as it was. When you’d confirmed, he’d grinned and made you pinky-promise that you wouldn’t flake on him.

So, here you were, the day before his birthday (unfortunately for him, it fell on a Monday), staring at your closet like it had personally offended you. Everything seemed too dressy or way too casual, and despite his reassurances that you could show up in pajamas and be fine, you were worried about what you were going to wear. You wanted to make a good impression on the people he cared about.

You settle on jeans and a black shirt you had definitely bought for a job interview at some point. You slip your lip tint into your bag and study yourself in the mirror. Was your eyeliner uneven? Before you can fix it, you get a text from Sangyeon lighting up your screen — telling you that the “surprise” went well and it’s at his friend’s place. 

The address comes in seconds later and you sigh. No going back now.

When you show up, you wish you had brought a jacket, the wind having bit your arms on the way over. You ring the doorbell, rocking back and forth on your feet until it swings open to a smiley face and then — “Sangyeon, your girl is here!”

“She’s like my sister!” He doesn’t even miss a beat in shutting down that teasing, appearing in the doorway a few seconds later. “Hi, Y/N-ie.”

You smile and hug him. “Hi, Sangy,” you shift closer to his side as they shut the door. “Nice to meet you…” you trail off and look at the guy who answered the door. You should know his name. Why don’t you remember? (You’d had Sangyeon give you a crash course over text last night, after you practically begged him to send you pictures with their names. But you didn’t remember seeing anyone with long, wavy black hair, so you realize the pictures must be old and practically useless.)

“Kevin!” He doesn’t seem to mind you not knowing. That eases the tightness in your chest. “You can put anything you got him over here on the table—” and with that, you’re dragged away from your friend, helplessly shooting him a wide-eyed look. “Or if it’s something we can’t see, in a closed room…”

The wiggle of his eyebrows offends you.

“Oh, god, no. He really is like my brother,” you laugh. “He found me crying over finals last year and took me under his wing.”

Kevin hums. “I knew he couldn’t pull!”

You let out a startled laugh before you can help yourself, and look over your shoulder to make sure Sangyeon didn’t hear. “Well, nice to meet you, Kevin,” you smile at him softly. “He wanted to introduce me so…” Kevin waves you away with a good-natured smile as you make your way back over to Sangyeon, where he’s talking to Hyunjae.

It stops you in your tracks. Yes, you knew they were friends, but it was different seeing him in front of you. (And that definitely wasn’t because you were shy, knowing you spent like ten minutes looking at the picture of him Sangyeon had sent, where he’s all bundled up in a winter coat and when you hold down on the live, you can hear him laughing, boyish and sweet. And it wasn’t because he was handsome either!) 

It was just weird to see a senior your whole department practically adored in a more casual setting. And everyone said he never went out, so it was just like you’d spotted a rare creature. 

That was all.

And, well, despite the rumors, Hyunjae didn’t look like he never went out. There’s a small necklace dangling on his neck and it leads your eyes down to a distressingly low V-neck, showing smooth planes of skin and muscle. His jeans fit him well, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up perfectly. It looked like he had his going-out outfit down to a T, and you feel your face burn when he looks up from his cup and waves you over. 

You hoped he didn’t see your stare.

“Hi, Y/N, right?” He smiles at you and you nod, looking at Sangyeon curiously. “He talks about you a lot. Nice to meet you, I’m Hyunjae!”

“I know,” you squeak out, wincing at how high your voice pitches and the awkwardness of it. “I mean — well, I’m also in comms… everyone looks up to you, sunbae…”

He shakes his head. “Ah, don’t call me that. I feel old.”

You nod shyly, fidgeting with your fingers. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” his smile is warm and you relax slightly. 

“Well, nice to meet you, Hyunjae,” you try out his name on your tongue. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” His brows raise. “Good things! A lot of people talk about how handsome you are…” You trail off, frowning and furrowing your brows. “Sorry, that was weird.”

Hyunjae laughs. “I don’t mind being called handsome. I think it’d be weirder if I did mind.”

Sangyeon comes back and you startle, not having realized he even left. He hands you a can of Milkis, and you realize it’s your favorite flavor. “Did you buy these for me?” 

Sangyeon smiles. “I have to have something other than coffee for you when we hang out. C’mon, you’ve got to meet everyone else.”

After a dizzying round of introductions and some chatter, you all end up sitting in a deformed circle. Eric — a math major and comms minor, he’d told you just a bit before. It was curious how you’d never run into him before — wanted to play truth or dare, and you perch anxiously on the edge of the sofa, fiddling with a pillow’s cover.

It’s hard to keep up with the laughter and noise, eyes darting back and forth as jokes and teasing jabs fly over your head, clearly based upon years of friendship and memories. When you’re finally asked, it takes a second to register that it’s directed towards you. “Um…” you look at Sangyeon and then to the guy asking you, Sunwoo, whose eyes have a devilish glint that makes you nervous. “Truth?”

“Is that a question?” he asks and you shake your head. He sighs. “I got it! Who do you think is the hottest in the room?”

You frown. You have a feeling picking dare would’ve been the same question — but with the caveat you had to kiss them. Sangyeon hands you the soju shot wordlessly, seeing how you tense up. With one last glare at Sunwoo, you take it, shuddering and wincing at the burn. 

Sangyeon gestures over at Jacob (you think it’s Jacob) and leans over to whisper a question for him into your ear. “Ask him if he actually asked his crush out for lunch like he said he would.” Your eyes widen but he urges you on.

“Jacob, truth or dare?” 

He stares at you before picking truth, which everyone must have expected by the chorus of sighs that the group lets out. “Did you actually ask out your crush like you said you would?”

His face falls. “Hyung!” He whines. It is an unfair question, you realize belatedly. If he drinks, it’s a ‘no.’ If he answers, he’ll get grilled regardless of the response.

Sorry! You mouth at him. He smiles at you, then not your fault before downing the shot.

Sangyeon cackles next to you, pleased with his orchestration of events. The game crumbles for a bit as everyone turns on a now beet-red Jacob, sinking behind the pillow he’d been holding like it can hide the blush high on his cheekbones.

“It’s not that I didn’t ask her, I just—”

They seem used to his dodging though, with Juyeon going “like you didn’t accidentally run into her after her lectures for weeks?”

A chorus of rowdy laughter. He really waited for her lecture to end? That’s cute. “Okay, so, maybe I didn’t ask her yet. Someone else drink, I didn’t have to take a shot if you’re going to press anyway.” He whines.

Sangyeon takes the penalty with a grin. 

The next person that has you in their sights is Changmin. “Truth or dare, Y/N?”

You feel like it’s risky, but you want to seem a little cool. At least, until they get to know you better. “Dare.” Changmin’s brows raise, pleased, and he whispers back and forth with Chanhee for a bit.

“Dare you to send a risky text to someone.”

You groan. “I don’t even have anyone to send a risky text to. I know like three people.”

Changmin grins. He looks a little evil and you wonder if he’s always like this. “You can send a risky text to a friend.”

You roll your eyes. “Can I send it to Sangyeon?” He’s ruled out quickly because he’s there and knows it’s not real. (Which sucks, because he wouldn’t care anyways. He knows you’re not into him and he’s not into you.) You could send it to Jimin, but you think she’d show up at your house, worried about you. And Ryujin was busy, you didn’t want to send her a weird text and confuse her when she has a big project coming up. “Give me the soju.”

They give you a bigger penalty glass and you look at the amount, a little worried. You weren’t huge on hard liquor (or any liquor, really. Only fruity cocktails were tolerable). But before you can steel your nerves, a hand brushes against yours and the glass is whisked away. Your head follows the movement before you can register what’s going on, and you watch Hyunjae down it smoothly.

His brows don’t even furrow, and he gives you a lazy smile, eyes sparkling with humor, as he sets it down on the table. “You know you owe me a favor for each one, right?” You nod. “Ask your question.”

There’s a round of cat calls and you squirm under the attention, asking Eric for a lame dare. You know his question for whoever he picks will take the eyes off you. 

You turn to Hyunjae. “Why’d you take it?”

“You looked like you might throw up just from the idea of it,” he deadpans, and you frown. “Kidding. You just didn’t seem okay with it. I’ll take them if you don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He smiles. “You do owe me a favor each time.”

Your head bobs in a nod, eyes silently tracing his features. “What kind of favor?”

He shrugs. “I’ll figure something out. Nothing weird. I’m not a creep.”

You giggle. “I didn’t imply you were. You’re awfully defensive.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, and you watch a blush crawl slowly up the back of his neck. “This is what I get for being your knight in shining armor? The first time we’ve met and you already call me weird?”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “I didn’t call you anything.”

“You implied it,” he huffs, childish and petulant.

After a few more rounds of questions, you’re exhausted. Everyone is getting more drunk — and, somehow, louder, with the exception of Sunwoo, who crashed like twenty minutes ago onto Younghoon.

“Hey, Sangy, I think I’m gonna head out.” You whisper to your friend, drawing his attention from the new game of Jenga (where they got it from, you’re not sure). 

“Okay. You think you can get home safe?”

“Mhm!” You chirp, smiling sleepily at him. “Happy birthday.”

You run into Hyunjae coming back out of one of the bedrooms. He’s changed clothes into a nice sweater, a little worn. It looks soft. 

“Heading out?” You nod. “Hey, before you go—” his voice stops your hand on the doorknob. “You don't actually think I’m weird, do you?”

Snorting, you shake your head. “No. Definitely not.” You study him a little longer, the slightly parted lips and hopeful glint in his dark eyes. “Can I get your number..? For help with school, you know. Just in case I need a really cool sunbae to be my knight in shining armor again.”

Hyunjae grins. “You got it.”

You and Hyunjae don’t talk again after Sangyeon’s party.

Both of you were busy with exams and final projects, and, well, he never asked you for the favors you owed him. You thought you’d run back into him at some point and remind him then. It felt weird to text him out of the blue — the only message you’d sent being you saying, hi, this is Y/N! that you’d sent after the party so he could save your contact.

With a new quarter comes new classes, where you likely don’t know anyone in it and dread the inevitability of a group project with strangers.

When you walk into the classroom for your three p.m, you’re hesitant. You’d heard great things about the professor, and it was marked as a multicultural class focusing on world religions (an actual variety of religions, using texts written by scholars and actual practitioners. No long sections just discussing Christianity, which was exciting). But you didn’t know anyone there, and some of the seats were already taken fifteen minutes before it was meant to start. You didn’t want to just sit down next to someone you didn’t know, instead scanning for the emptiest section of the room before walking across the threshold.

You find an empty chair near the end of a row at the back, away from the dotting of people who’d already found their seats. It had a decent enough view of the podium and projector so you claim it, putting your bag down as you fold the pull-out desk over your knees.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You really try not to jump at the sudden noise, but the smile you see on Hyunjae’s face as you bolt up and turn around tells you that you failed. “Yeah— I mean, no. No. I don’t mind. You can…” you sigh and slap your cheeks, trying to slap some sense back into yourself. “Sorry. Yes, you can sit there.” 

Hyunjae chuckles softly and sets his backpack on the ground. “How have you been, Y/N? It’s been a bit.”

It takes a bit for you to respond, focusing on lining up your pens how you want. “Um, okay… you know, same old. Just existing.” You don’t have any fun stories to regale him with. Really, you just studied, spent time with Jimin, Ryujin, or Sangyeon — or with classmates you had become kind-of acquaintances with in preparation for a hard exam. You liked to cook for yourself and your roommate, Lily, who was nice enough and easy to live with, so you did that too.

The only thing you could remember going to solo (for fun, not for school) even semi-recently had been a play the theater department was putting on, because you didn’t have the heart to tell one of the girls you sometimes studied with that you hated Shakespeare adaptations. (She had made the props and wanted to show them off.)

Hyunjae tilts his head. “Nothing for fun?”

“Not much.” You mumble, suddenly embarrassed. ”’m a homebody.”

There’s a clamor up front as a group of friends stumble in and try to find seats together. You sigh as you watch them, a little envious. “Nothing wrong with that.” Hyunjae chuckles. “Remember those favors you owe me?”

You sit up. “Yeah!”

“I know what I want.”

“Okay..?” you trail off curiously, turning your head to look at the sparkle in his eyes.

“You have to study with me and Eric. No backing out. All semester.” He grins at you like he didn’t just completely claim a huge part of your schedule as his own. Before you can even open your mouth to whine, he shakes his head and does a shushing motion. “You owe me like five favors. This will count for all of them.”

He jerks to attention as the professor comes in and you chew on your lip. Fine. He was smart, so it couldn’t be too bad. Maybe he could give you answers for classes that he’d already taken. 

“Okay, well… I guess we need to figure out when and where we’ll meet, right?”

Hyunjae nods. “It’ll be fun.”

The three of you were free from four to six on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so that became your dedicated study time. The location? Wherever worked, in Eric’s own words. 

That Thursday, the first time you all meet, you end up at a small square table in the corner of an on campus coffee shop connected to the library. It’s always super busy, which is how you find yourself crammed against the wall and struggling to even hear what’s being said.

Eric and Hyunjae are working on homework for some math class they’re both in. You wouldn’t be of any help, even if you were in the same class, so you quietly put due dates in your planner and start on a longer reading.

You don’t know exactly how long it takes you to get through half of the article and take notes, but when you take a break to straighten your posture because of the ache in your shoulders and lower back, you find yourself getting distracted by Hyunjae and Eric bickering about the best flavors of Pepero and Pocky. 

Hyunjae is defending the honor of Pepero coated in white chocolate against Eric’s matcha green tea Pocky. Your eyes drift up to the snack stand where, sure enough, there is a box of classic Pocky right in your line of sight. 

You figure that’s how they got to the topic.

“Ready to work on comms, guys?” You ask softly, brows raising as they get more heated. Eric coughs and Hyunjae gives you a sheepish smile, head bobbing in a small nod as he pulls back out his binder. (He keeps all his classes in the same multi-subject one, and, honestly, the folder sections are stuffed comically with papers. You wonder how he can even find what he needs in there, seeing as most of the pages are dog-eared and crumpled against each other.)

“Did you finish the reading you were doing?” Hyunjae asks as he tugs out his printed lecture notes. “We can wait.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on Buddhism when there’s a riveting debate about Pocky in front of me,” you drawl, a teasing smile playing across your lips. “I’ll finish it later.”

Eric takes the lead on the study session, and you’re trying your best to follow along. (Really, you are! It’s not your fault your coffee cup is empty. Well, actually, it is, but you don’t want to go get a third one for the day when it’s five p.m.) You’re a little distracted, though, when Eric delves into coerced admissions, their legality, and the confessions of innocent people.

It was a class on legal communications. But you were tired and confused, putting your head down on the table with a whine as the two men seemingly have no difficulty parsing the laws and imagined scenarios in front of them.

“Y/N—” Hyunjae’s voice, oddly close to you. And then, a hand on your thigh. “Want help?”

You nod and sit up straight, probably a bit too quickly, looking down at the worksheet in front of you. Hyunjae’s explaining it — you’re sure he is, from the way Eric is taking notes while he talks and Hyunjae drags his pen across the words and scribbles notes in the margins for you — but you don’t even hear the words. He’s so close to you, hand warm where it rests on your leg, and he smells really good.

Why does he smell so good?

And then, with a brief glance out of the corner of your eyes, you feel your breath being taken away. He’s gorgeous, with his hair falling gently into his brows and eyes, and your throat dries as he delicately flicks it away and furrows his brows.

He’s warm, even if his hand wasn’t on your thigh, like a heater in your personal space. Not that you mind.

“Got it?”

You nod dumbly. “Um, yeah. Got it! Thanks, Hyunjae.” You smile sweetly at him and his eyes crinkle as he smiles back before sliding back to where his stuff is. Suddenly, you’re cold.

“Hyung, can we please go get food—”

“We have thirty minutes left, Eric.”

“Please?” He drags out the ‘e’, whiny and endearing. “I’ll pay.”

Hyunjae laughs loudly. “I’m holding you to that. Y/N, you coming?”

You shake your head. You had dinner plans with Ryujin. And you think that’d be good for your sanity, to hear her talk about her dance classes. “Maybe next time.”

Hyunjae was a lot more social than you expected, given his reputation within the department. On top of your study sessions twice a week, he often texted you about homework (the one time you got a frantic text from him at one a.m. asking if you saw the essay requirements posted for religions, you felt your heart stop beating for a moment. If he was struggling, how were you going to survive?). 

You weren’t necessarily close, but apparently he considered the two of you close enough that he invited you to parties sometimes as a way to get you out and meeting people (that was surprising too. You didn’t know he was into that scene, but you supposed his and Sangyeon’s friend group was big enough for everything to turn into a party). 

It was sweet he didn’t want you to rot in your dorm all the time, though. 

He’d sulk some when you turned down the invite, sending “so you hate me?” with a string of frowny faces and crying copypastas. If you disliked more than three, he’d stop whining and move on like nothing happened. 

Tonight was different. You were more than tired of looking at homework, and everyone you knew was busy. So when Hyunjae messages around seven asking if you want to go to a party (“smaller, this time! just me and sangyeon’s friends. and some girls the other guys are into and their friends. some of them are in comms, and you know all of us…”) 

You don’t tell him that’s still a lot of people. Instead, why should i?

please please please please please please please fills your screen. i’ll take you home the second you’re bored. You heart that message. Barely a second later, he’s calling you.

“Are you going to come? Please say yes. I’m not above begging.”

“I don’t know you like that, Hyunjae. Keep that to the bedroom,” you tease lightly. “I’m holding you to your promise to be my chauffeur though.”

You hear him sigh softly before laughing. “Okay, okay. But seriously, are you coming?”

You hum and look at a skirt hanging on a rack in your closet — Jimin got it for you when you went shopping last time after you eyed it for a bit. It still had the tag on since you’d never had an occasion to wear it. “I guess I could make an appearance.”

“Guess?” Hyunjae drawls, and you can practically hear the pout on his face. “Or know?”

“Pick me up and it’ll be a yes.”

“Deal.” He answers before you can even try to figure out plans. “See you in twenty.”

He showed up in exactly twenty minutes, and you were beyond grateful you hadn’t removed your makeup from the day yet. Your hair was still a little messy and you were fixing your eyeliner to be heavier when the doorbell rang.

At the house (you’re not even sure whose), Hyunjae grabs you a cocktail. You tilt your head at him curiously but accept it, wondering if the fact you’re not into other alcohol is written somewhere on your face. 

After a few awkward introductions and fifteen minutes stuck to Hyunjae’s side like a leech, you start to relax a little. Maybe it’s the cocktail, perfectly sweet, or maybe it’s the way the party really does seem small and chill compared to most on campus. You’re not really sure, but it doesn’t matter anyways, as Sunwoo ropes you into a game of beer pong with a promise he’ll drink whatever cups you two lose.

He’s laughing, boyish and charming, as you sink a cup against Eric and tell him to “suck it!” when he tries to protest his fate. Sunwoo’s arms wrap around your shoulders, clinging onto you as he gets more and more drunk (outside of the game, not just the beer in the cups. Chanhee kept mysteriously appearing with KGB and shots of soju every so often and goading Sunwoo into drinking. You have a feeling he has an ulterior motive for the night). 

You don’t mind, though, relaxing into his hold and cheering as the two of you defeat Eric (and a girl you think he might be into, from the way he smiles and comforts her. Unfortunately, you didn’t catch her name). 

“We make a good team, Sunwoo,” you giggle softly, and you feel a little warm from the alcohol. He smiles back at you, face wrinkling up happily. You squish his cheek firmly until he yelps. “Do you wanna go find Sangyeon? I think he was setting up something.”

Sunwoo starts dragging you towards the living room before the words even finish leaving your mouth, both of you giggling as you stumble down the hall. “Guys—” he announces before you’re even across the threshold, tripping over the next words as he stumbles into the room. “This is my new game buddy, Y/N.”

You nod solemnly. “We have a pact.”

It takes only a second or two of unimpressed stares for you both to start laughing again, falling into open seats in front of one of the couches, right in front of Sangyeon and a girl from comms — you think her name is Hyeri. Sangyeon helps you balance on the way down, smiling fondly when you try to whisper that “Sunwoo’s fun!” to him.

“Is he?” Sangyeon asks, smoothing out your hair. You nod eagerly and he seems content that you’re having a good time. “Well, we’re going to watch a movie. That’s also fun.”

You nod, leaning into his knee as the group bickers and figures out what to play. You’re tired now, energy drained from the amount of people around you. The blanket that hangs by your side is interesting enough, and you find yourself picking at the fluffy fibers as the noise dies down enough for the movie to be audible.

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae, sitting by a girl named Soobin. You’ve had a class with her before, and a god-awful group project to boot. She was smart and nice, and you appreciated her being a voice of reason when your other members dragged their feet on every aspect of what was due. She’s looking at Hyunjae, too, you realize, looking at the way her expression softens as she shifts a little closer to him.

A ball forms in your stomach, brows furrowing as you take in the sight. Maybe the alcohol was getting to you and that’s why you felt something turning over in your stomach, but you’re not quite sure that’s the cause as she leans and whispers something — a joke, you assume, about the scene flickering across the TV — in his ear.

Hyunjae smiles, laughs, charming as ever and nods, leans over to whisper something back before turning his attention back to the glowing screen. Sangyeon’s hand on your shoulder snaps your focus away and you sigh, a little embarrassed.

“You okay, Y/N-ie?” He asks softly, and you tilt your head up to see his eyes, soft with concern. “You can go home if you want, I know you’re not huge on parties.”

Nodding, you swallow the sudden lump in your throat before croaking out. “Yeah, Hyunjae’s my ride. I’ll ask him when we take a break for snacks or something.”

He doesn’t seem content with your answer but nods, hand sliding off you. You appreciated the way he read your tense shoulders and backed off, reading your overstimulation and reducing it. 

Sangyeon calls for a break maybe ten minutes later and whispers that you should go as he stands. You rise, eyes finding Soobin and Hyunjae again as you gather your things. 

People are quiet, asleep or filtering into the kitchen to get snacks and drinks, and you hear her — soft spoken and easy to miss, but sweet as can be — ask if “he’d like to go out sometime?” and that she thinks they get along well. You pause in your tracks, and the way Hyunjae’s smile drops, expression cold and disinterested as he rejects her, with no ambiguity, has you feeling more sick than the drinks or seeing her lean on him earlier.

Soobin looks like she might cry, but she takes it with more grace than you think you could manage — a nod, a smile, and thanking him for being honest with his rejection.

When she walks off, Hyunjae’s eyes flit to you and he raises his brows. “What’s up?”

“Just ready to go home.” You mumble, hearing the ring of him saying there’s no chance, and I’m sorry if I made you think there was. I wish you well but don’t contact me again, if this is the intent in your ears. “Did you drink?”

Hyunjae shakes his head. “Want a ride?”

“Um…” you pause. “It’s fine, actually. You were liking the movie, right?” Hyunjae nods slowly. “I’ll get an Uber. Just wanted to say bye and make sure you knew I left — I didn’t want you to worry. I’m tired.”

Hyunjae smiles at you, the normal boyish grin that you’re used to seeing. “Okay, rest well, Y/N!” and, then, you make your way out, with a wave to Sunwoo and not one more look behind you. 

A girl’s day was long overdue, so when your schedule aligns with Jimin’s and Ryujin’s for lunch, you’re dragged to a nearby Greek place that Jimin’s friend, Yizhuo, had mentioned. They were beyond excited that you didn’t back out of lunch (not that you had a tendency to do that. They just knew you had gone to a party and would be tired, hungover, or both and less willing to come because of that). 

Once you’ve placed your orders, Ryujin squints at you from where she sits across the table. “How was the party?” The ‘you look tired’ is unsaid, but you don’t feel hurt. It’s true, you were tired, having tossed and turned trying to understand Hyunjae’s sudden switch up with Soobin when he seemed so receptive to her jokes and closeness. (When you did fall asleep, it was restless, and your head was throbbing now despite taking hangover cures.)

“Fine.” Your voice is softer than normal, and somehow wavers on just one word. Jimin’s eyes narrow as you fiddle with the corner of a napkin. “I made a friend.”

You’re talking about Sunwoo. Of course, you already knew him, but it felt nice to be closer to another person in the group. You don’t say more. (Mainly because you didn’t want to think about why you were so bothered by Hyunjae rejecting Soobin — you didn’t really know her, you weren’t privy to Hyunjae’s romantic life, understandably, and he wasn’t necessarily mean, just… too firm for your tastes).

“What’s bothering you then?” Ryujin asks pointedly, and you scowl at her. “Don’t frown at me! You’re sulking.”

With a long sigh, you shake your head. “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

Jimin pats your hand, an attempt at soothing contact without pressing too far into your space. “Babe, it’s bothering you. That’s not stupid.”

Damn her.

“It’s just — you all know Hyunjae. And how we’re friends? He took me to the party, which was really nice, and this girl — Soobin, she’s super pretty and sweet, I had a project with her last semester. They were flirting, or at least being close? I guess. All night. But when she did actually ask him out, he was suddenly super cold and it just… it was weird, you know? Not how he normally is.” You pause, a little embarrassed by your rambling. “I took an Uber home.”

Silence.

“He invited me.”

Then, a knowing ohh from Ryujin and a frown on Jimin’s face. 

“You like him.” Jimin hums after a few more seconds of silence, taking a sip of her water like she didn’t just say something world-changing and earth-shattering. “And you’re worried he’d do that to you.”

“No?” Your voice is high and strained, stunned. You can’t even begin to track how she got to that conclusion, and you can’t believe she’s saying it so confidently either. “It’s just out of character for him!”

“You don’t know his character that well yet,” Ryujin cuts in, fighting back a smile. “We know you think he’s hot. Jimin told me about when you were studying in the math lab…”

You think your face might catch on fire with how hot it feels. “That doesn’t mean I like him!”

“Sure…” she laughs, and she’s so lucky you’re not at your apartment because she deserved a pillow to the face to wipe the smug smile off.

Jimin rescues you. “If you don’t like him, that’s fine. But would you be weirded out if… I don’t know, Younghoon did that to a girl?”

Shaking your head, you lean back against the chair and stretch. “But I don’t know him, really. I study with Hyunjae all the time, and I feel like I’m actually friends with him and Eric. Like, yes, it’s mainly based on school, but we’re close… for my standards. I guess it’s just weird because he seems so warm and bubbly that seeing such a quick and complete rejection was unusual.”

Ryujin hums. “Well, at least he didn’t lead her on?”

“Yeah, because making a girl almost cry is better!”

“It is…” Jimin says softly. “I mean, it’s not great, but it’s better than her getting more attached and him using her and keeping her around just for the attention.”

You hated when she was right. 

She normally was. You think you’d be used to it by now, but you still sulk and pout at her clear and concise understanding of situations.

“I hate making friends,” you whine. “Can’t I just keep you two and Sangyeon, that’s it, forever?”

Both respond with variations on no quickly, and you pout more. “So you hate me. And you don’t want to be friends.” You’re being dramatic, but you have to be. It’s somewhere in your DNA.

“You’re stuck with us,” Jimin soothes. “But you like having friends, even if getting close is hard. You’ll be happier.” She pauses, thanks the waiter as they put down your food. “Besides, hot guys always have something wrong with them. This must be his — he’s an iron wall man.”

“What the hell is an iron wall man?” Ryujin asks through a mouthful, and you throw a napkin at her for it. She sticks her tongue out at you after she’s done chewing, but you know she’ll finish her next bites before talking again.

“Guys who put up clear and obvious walls and are super hard to get close to and have the attention of,” Jimin shrugs. “Seems like he gets a lot of attention but doesn’t want it. If he rejects girls like that, it stops.”

You sigh. “Hot men do always have something wrong with them.”

“Why do you sound like you’re in mourning?”

“I’m mourning the concept of a decent boyfriend,” you whine back without a moment of pause. “Is it too much to ask for a hot and normal guy?”

Ryujin nods. “Also, Hyunjae isn’t normal.”

“You don’t even know him!” You protest quickly.

“He’s friends with Sangyeon,” Jimin points out. “He has to be a little weird.”

You end up with Ryujin and Jimin at your place, setting up an honestly ridiculous amount of blankets on the couch and floor to watch the classic Barbie movies. The three of you had raided the nearby convenience store and set up your coffee table with snacks and drinks to last the whole marathon. (The convenience store was your favorite nearby. The woman who owned it loved you, and often gave a small bag of chips or some other snack, on the house even if you said she didn’t have to and shouldn’t. Sometimes, you brought her extra food from making dinner in a Tupperware as thanks).

After rifling through your skincare, you’d found face masks that suited all three of your needs (even if you did scold Jimin for saying her skin looked dull recently, since she was literally glowing). Ryujin had found nail polish you forgot you owned, buried at the bottom of the small closet in your bathroom. She’d triumphantly showed the forest green bottle and shoved it towards you. It was what your nails would have to end up as now.

You’re maybe halfway into Princess and the Pauper when your nails finally feel dry enough to do anything without the polish shifting or chipping, so you carefully make your way to your room.

Somewhere in your desk, you’d shoved a bunch of charms and trinkets you’d bought for the two and forgotten to give to them for months. It was one of your bigger flaws, being forgetful of small things like that. You’d gotten some for Sangyeon too, but remembered to add them to his birthday present. 

Triumphantly, after five minutes of searching, you emerge and find them in their face masks. You snap a photo of them quickly despite the complaints that they “look awful!” and the threat that “if you post that, I’m blocking you.”

When you toss them at them, their threats and jokes soften. 

“But I don’t have anything to give you…” Jimin pouts, spinning the cute black cat keychain around in her fingers as she investigates the details painted on. “I feel bad.”

“You two are always here for me.” You shrug. The silent reference to lunch goes unsaid — the ‘thank you for dealing with my whining, thank you for reassuring me, and for putting up with my codependency as I try to be more social and improve’. (Of course, it wasn’t just because of the gossiping about Hyunjae. It was that they, as much as they teased and joked, wanted the best for you and knew when to stop or change their approach.)

Ryujin finally looks up from the sticker sheets you gave her, muttering curses under her breath as she struggles to pick off the smallest ones to put on her phone case. “Love you, Y/N.”

It’s weird. She doesn’t say it often. A good weird, though, sparking a warmth in your chest. “I love you, too,” you grin, pulling out your phone and swiping to the camera app. “Can you say it again?”

“I’m not giving you evidence against me.”

(By this point, as Jimin excitedly puts on Barbie in the Twelve Dancing Princesses, you’d pretty much forgotten about the Hyunjae thing. Besides, it’s not like you’d ever been asked out or done anything with a guy —maybe his approach really was the best one to reject people you were into. You didn’t know. It didn’t really matter, ultimately, and you knew he’d still be your friend just as he was before the party.)

The temperature had dropped starkly in the past few weeks, taking with it the sun. By five-thirty, it’s dark out. You’re cold and tired, and honestly, grumpy. You’d stayed up until three. Most of that was sneaking out of the dance building at two a.m. with Ryujin after helping her for a few hours, just workshopping awkward parts of a routine she had to choreograph.

The other hour was spent getting ready for bed and scrolling through Instagram until your eyes couldn’t stay awake. No one could fault you for ending up in Hyunjae’s tagged photos — he didn’t post much anyways, and a lot of them had Sangyeon. And your other new friends too. It was only natural.

By the evening, you’re tired. But you didn’t want to leave Hyunjae hanging (Eric had some club meeting), so it’s just you two, working quietly in one of the study rooms in the library. It’s cozy, with lamps newly added this semester (and thank god they were, with the room feeling so dark, cold, and unwelcoming in semesters prior without any windows), and a nice warmth compared to the way wind bit your skin when you walked over to the library.

Warm light washes over your notes and you sigh, resting your head down on the table. Your hand hurts, and this professor required handwritten assignments. It’s intended to be a short break, but the way your chin nestles and your shoulders relax is so comfortable you can’t bring yourself to get back to work, even after five minutes of silently staring at nothing. With a sigh, you shift to slump further in the chair and let your eyes drift to Hyunjae.

He’s studiously working on one of his classes — you’re not in it, and thankful for it. The printed letters on his assignment sheet alone hurt your head. His dark green sweater looks comfortable, a little large on him, and around the same color as the chipped nail polish that remains from your last girl’s night with Ryujin and Karina. His hair is darker than it was when you first met, with less sunlight adding warm blonde tones. It also seems curlier, but you’re not sure if your eyes are playing a trick on you, narrowing your focus on a stray strand that he keeps flicking out of his eyes. 

“Why are you staring at me?” Hyunjae asks without a pause in his writing. “Is there something on my clothes?”

You shoot up and slam your knee into the underside of the table, whining in pain. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjae laughs softly, fondness taking over his gaze as he leans over and moves your drink from the edge towards the center. “That sounded painful.”

“It was,” you whine. “And I wasn’t staring.” The second part is weak. You don’t even believe yourself, eyes darting away from the way the golden lamplight shimmers in his eyes now that he’s turned to face you.

His hum is disapproving. “Liar.”

You shake your head stubbornly. “I wasn’t staring at you. It was your hair.”

“Which is part of me.” Hyunjae deadpans. “Why? Does it look weird?”

“No, just… is it curly now?”

Hyunjae tilts his head. “Yeah. My hair is naturally curly.”

“Huh.” It does suit him, you decide. Not that you’d tell him. “We, um, we should finish our work.”

While you say that, Hyunjae packs up his things haphazardly in his criminally organized binder. “You look exhausted, Y/N-ie. We can call it for the night.”

YN-ie. Sangyeon called you that. And it felt good coming from him, but the familiarity and softness of Hyunjae’s voice makes your stomach turn.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You mumble, looking at the small smile on his face. Did he see you how Sangyeon did?

It comes up again when you’re walking through street food stalls with Sangyeon.

You’re holding both of your dalgona by the wooden stick as he chats to the stall owner, picking out new flavors of jeon for you to try. Somehow, the conversation drifts to the man’s kids, and Sangyeon coos at the grainy film camera pictures in the man’s camera roll. 

The fondness in both their voices is cute. How Sangyeon talks to you. How Hyunjae spoke to you in the study room.

“Hey, Y/N-ie, come on,” Sangyeon urges and you look up, accepting the rolled pancake in the small cardboard container. “What’s on your mind?”

You hum, skipping over the lines of the cobbled street, keeping count of how many you pass in eights. “Fondness.”

There’s so much of it around you. Families walking by, attempting to keep their little children in line as they scamper from sweet food stall to sweet food stall, amazed by the colors and smells of each dessert. Couples, hands locked together, wrapped in a small bubble of intimacy separating them from the throngs of people hustling and bustling by. Sangyeon, concerned about your silence.

“Are you a philosopher?”

“I try to be,” you smile softly. “Just thinking.”

“That’s what they do, isn’t it?” Sangyeon tears a piece of his jeon and hands it to you. “Think.”

“They also talk a lot.” You mumble before finishing the bite. “Ooh, what flavor is this?”

“Fondness,” Sangyeon laughs at his own joke and you scowl.

“How do you know when a guy thinks you’re like a sibling? Like you see me?”

He pauses and falters in his step before rematching his stride to yours. “Suddenly?”

“Not that suddenly.”

Sangyeon’s eyebrows raise. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Your turn to pause. With a frown, you shake your head and look away pointedly. “There isn’t one. I just want to know. You know I have no experience with any of that.”

“Keep walking.” He doesn’t even need to look at you to know, and that annoys you even more. With a huff, you catch up to him. “I can’t believe you like a guy. They grow up so fast.”

“I’ve been an adult since you met me.”

Sangyeon hums. “And you’re still a baby.”

“Can you at least answer my question?”

He ruffles your hair. “Well, you see, when a guy likes a girl—”

“Okay.” You sigh. “You’re not helpful, you know that? I’m going to keep this dalgona.” You wave his in front of his face, twirling it around. “Stop teasing me.”

“But it’s so fun, can you blame me, Y/N-ie?”

He takes pity on you, eventually. 

“If he likes you, you’ll be able to tell. It might not be certain, but his behavior will change from how it was. If he views you like I do — a little sister, a little annoying—” he yelps as you smack his shoulder. “It’s true! And as I was saying, you’d know if he saw you like that.” Sangyeon snatches his dalgona from you. “The fondness you’re thinking about would be a little exasperated.”

“So you’re sick of me.”

“No, don’t put words in my mouth and hurt your own feelings,” he cuts you off quickly. “I love you very much. But you annoy me in many ways. None of them make me want to kiss you. A guy who really likes you would want to kiss you anyways.”

You hum. “So if I want to see if he’s into me?”

“Be more open about your feelings and ease up around him. If you hint at it, he’ll probably give himself away.”

You think you’ll take his advice, falling into contemplative silence as you snap the edges around the triangle stamp in your candy. 

Ryujin had been antsy for weeks. Maybe even months.

You think her nerves paid off, if your shaky video of her performance drowned out by you cheering so loudly you can’t hear half the instrumental is anything to go by. Your throat is hoarse by the time you manage to slip backstage and jump to hug her, whisper-yelling that ‘I have flowers in my car for you!’ so she can hear you over the thrum of noise as staff and students prepare for the next set of performances.

When you spot Intak, her dance partner for the night, you compliment him too. He blushes shyly and bows, clearly delighted with the outcome of the night. 

“Seriously, Ryu, I can’t believe you’re not famous,” you lament from where you’re cuddled into her side, clinging to her waist as you rest your chin on her shoulder. “Everyone should know you.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Then you’d have to be in line to be my number one fan.”

“I already fight Karina and your other friends for the spot,” you mumble. “I can handle a little more competition if it means you succeed.”

Her giggle is so comforting, pure joy and relief as she can finally stop worrying about this performance. She’d bitched about it enough that you felt like you were preparing to dance on stage with her (not that you could’ve held a candle to her or matched Intak’s skill level). She’d complained mostly about the fact it was a duet, scowling as she realized her grades weren’t dependent on her own performance and skill, but you were able to see the respect that she had for Intak.

He’d always been a good dancer and you’d known that — having seen him on a few other performing nights, and a few dance practices Ryujin snuck you into — but the way she spoke was different.

It was probably because they were done working together, and her frustration with the assignment stopped projecting onto him.

Intak lights up as the door creaks open and you look up, tilting your head curiously as Hyunjae comes into view under a, frankly, ridiculous amount of flowers.

“Did you buy out a florist?” You ask softly and he chuckles.

“It’s for both of them. They all have tags with letters from who they’re from. I got used as a pack mule.”

“Poor baby,” you coo sarcastically, a fond smile taking over your face despite your tone. You detach from Ryujin while she and Intak look through the bouquets, watching as the smile grows on their faces until both their eyes crinkle. They deserved it.

Intak perks up after reading a message and then, suddenly, “Y/N, you should come with us as Ryu’s plus one! We were going to have a celebratory dinner.”

You try to shake your head and back away, but Hyunjae’s hand behind your back keeps you from getting to the door. You glare at him before smiling at Intak. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m nervous around people I don’t know that well. I’m not that fun.”

“That’s okay, this is how you can get to know them!” 

With the way he’s so eager and his eyes light up, something tells you he won’t take no for an answer. You begrudgingly nod, relaxing slightly as Hyunjae adds he’ll come and Ryujin mentions Jimin meeting you all at the restaurant they chose. Intak’s friends were apparently coming, too, so you mentally brace for the amount of conversation that will inevitably go on.

Most of the time you’re in the diner, you’re flattened to the booth chair and listening to the conversation around you. A lot of it is spent praising the performers of the hour, but as it dissolves into inside jokes, you feel more and more exhausted with trying to keep up. 

Hyunjae feeds you a fry at one point, dipped sneakily in Ryujin’s milkshake. That’s a highlight of your night. 

When everyone finally starts to scatter, Hyunjae walks you home. It was nice that he lived nearby, but he promised you (with his pinky and everything!) that he’d walk you home anyways, because a girl shouldn’t be walking home alone late at night, especially if she’s tired.

“Yeah, so, the project is going okay—” he’s talking about a math class. How there’s a group project in a math class, when there’s barely even numbers in the math he’s in is beyond you, but you nod anyway. “I think we’ll be able to turn it in early, which is nice. I’ll have time to do stuff.”

“It’s always nice to finish early,” you sigh, stretching your back. That booth had been stiff as a board. “I’d use it to hibernate.”

“You’re always hibernating,” he teases softly. “It’ll give me more time to talk to this girl before we go on a date, so that’s nice. I think we get along well. We’ll see.”

You perk up. “Date? I thought you didn’t like dating?”

Hyunjae laughs. “I never said that? I don’t do it often, but it’s nice to talk to a pretty girl.” You deflate a little, hoping he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t seem to, checking his phone before swiping away a notification with a small smile. “What gave you that idea?”

“Must’ve been the voices.” You hum, voice deceptively light. “They tell me things.”

“Weirdo.” Hyunjae chuckles, ruffling your hair.

“Meanie,” you poke your tongue out at him. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Mm.” Hyunjae smiles at you, obviously sleepy himself. “I’ll see you soon?”

“When do you not?”

Sangyeon figured you out. Somehow.

You almost choke on a noodle in your pho when he brings it up randomly during lunch. 

“How long have you liked Hyunjae?”

It takes a second to breathe right and you hold your palm out to him, a silent plea for him to stop. “What are you talking about?”

He smiles at you and the sparkle in his eye sends a shiver down your spine. “Well, a little birdie told me that you thought Hyunjae didn’t date anyone… and when you pair that with you whining about wanting guys to not see you like I do…”

The thing he is implying with how he trails off is, honestly, offensive.

“I don’t like him like that?” You scoff, setting down your spoon and chopsticks. “I genuinely thought he didn’t date — I mean, we all saw how he shut down Soobin when we watched movies that one time.”

Sangyeon scoffs. “Who is we?”

You frown. “Me? And Sunwoo? And everyone else there?”

“No one was paying attention to them like that, Y/N-ie. I think you were jealous.”

With a huff, you grab your phone and check your schedule. You didn’t have any excuse to leave, but you could come up with one. “I have an assignment I forgot about…”

“Liar.” Sangyeon doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s okay if you like him. Even if you don’t. That one day — that fondness shit, where you were possessed by a philosopher. Was that about him?”

With a small sigh, you nod. “Yeah. I want to be seen as an equal and a friend. Not like a baby sister. How he treats all of his friends.”

“Well, then you’ve failed already. He’s extra nice to you.”

Your shoulders drop, rounding in. “Yeah. I’m the annoying kid sister type, huh?”

Sangyeon’s smile is weirdly knowing. “I don’t think it’s like that. But I mean, hey, he doesn’t hate you. That’s enough, isn’t it?” You nod. “Just don’t get your hopes up about dating him.”

“I don’t want to date him!” You grumble and he just laughs.

Asshole.

Hyunjae did, in fact, like you — like he did all his friends, not like a little sister.

You had gotten closer to him and his friends (Sangyeon’s friends, too), enough that you would occasionally go out with Kevin and Jacob or spend time chatting with Haknyeon on the phone. It was… overwhelming, to have gone from having a small circle to so many more.

But it was nice.

Hyunjae was nice, too, as finals crept closer. At study sessions, he’d buy your coffee (since you predictably got the same order every time) before you even arrived, and tell Eric to shut up if he laughed at it.

You even wore his hoodie a few nights, when the two of you were staying until the library closed. They were large and comfortable, and you had been tempted to keep them when you saw them in your room the next morning, still smelling of his cologne. 

It took great effort to wash and return them, but you did it with a smile (and when Hyunjae said you didn’t have to wash them, you’d jokingly called him a creep for wanting to wear something you had worn without cleaning it. The wide-eyed, red-cheeked look he had after was priceless). 

Even more nice was how much more often you talked. It felt like you had graduated from school friend to real friend, often seeing texts from random hours (one time, a heinous 4:52 a.m.) sending you memes and Tiktoks and whatever thought happened to cross his mind he thought you’d enjoy.

Apparently, you seemed like a girl who enjoyed the dad jokes he found and screenshotted from the depths of the internet, grainy and hard to read. You didn’t enjoy them. But you hearted each one he sent you and would take the fact you hated them to your grave.

The one that got your hopes up — that maybe, somehow, you are special to him, like Sangyeon implied, when he said Hyunjae was extra nice to you — was after a hard test you’d been dreading and complaining about.

Hyunjae showed up with your favorite coffee and a hug, letting you vent and complain, voice muffled into the fabric of his sweater. The embarrassment you felt seeing a hint of makeup on his shoulder was quickly squashed when he laughed and said “huh, a mini Y/N for my day. Score!” with a voice so light, you thought you misheard him.

“I’m sure you did great,” he whispers, more sincerely and sweetly, moving a stray hair away from and off your temples. “You’re really smart, you know that?”

“Not compared to you,” you mumble, chest still tight with anxiety.

“Yes, compared to me,” Hyunjae hums, grabbing your bag and walking you towards the dining hall. “In many ways I am not.”

It’s so real and you know he means it. “You don’t need to comfort me, I’m not a baby…”

“I want to.”

God, he was so sweet. 

“Thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine, a little awed by his kindness.

“Don’t thank me for the bare minimum,” he scolds. “You should thank me for being really hot and sexy.”

You scoff. “Please shut up.”

And there was normal Hyunjae again, the you-specific extra kindness melting away.

It’s when you realize you don’t want anyone else getting that sweetness that you get that you realize you do, in fact, like Hyunjae. One could even say you have a crush.

You’re in a cute little black dress, makeup and hair done, wearing some jewelry that Ryujin just got you, and you’re tipsy.

Chanhee had been feeding you KGB and soju shots like he had to Sunwoo when the two of you were beer pong buddies and got close, and your face is warm, and everything is a little blurry and the world spins a little around you.

Or maybe the world is spinning around Hyunjae. 

You think it should. He’s so stunning, and you spend some time looking at his dark curly hair — worn natural, for once, pretty where it lands on his brow, eyes sparkling and bright as he laughs and chats with the people he stands with. Even the way he holds the red solo cup is pretty, and you stare at the new bracelet on his wrist curiously — where did he get it? you wonder, but the thought vanishes as quickly as you had it when he smiles and waves at you.

You wave back, smiling too. And then your eyes drop to the rest of his outfit, and the amount of skin his shirt showing is, honestly, criminal. It’s like you took another shot, the way heat pours through you as you study the necklace that leads your eyes to his collarbones perfectly. 

How planned. How scandalous.

Jimin finds you maybe ten minutes later, glued to your spot and swaying, staring at Hyunjae and the conversation across the room with big, wide eyes. “Babe, how much did you have?” She asks softly, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Dunno, ask Chanhee,” you mumble, words slurred as you smile at her.

She grabs your arm and you stumble, letting yourself be dragged outside. The night air is cold and welcome on your heated skin. “Stay here. I’ll find Ryujin and we’ll go back to yours, okay? No more drinks.”

You pout at her but nod, sitting down on the stair to the deck. The sky is pretty, stars twinkling overhead. It doesn’t take long before your eyes flutter shut, though, letting all the overwhelming things around you fade away.

It’s cold now that you’ve been outside for a few minutes, your dress too thin for respite, and your jacket draped on your chair back at home (because “I don’t need it, Ryu, I’ll be fine!”). 

You jump when Hyunjae calls your name and settles next to you, but the warmth he radiates is comforting. His thigh rests against yours and even through his pants, it warms where you have goosebumps.

Shuddering, you tilt your head at him. “Hi.” Your voice is soft and small, a little giggle slipping out as you look at him.

“Hi,” he echoes, squinting. “Are you getting sick? You’re shivering.” The concern in his voice is cute, but you wish he was drunk enough to be staring at you like you hung the moon up next to the stars overhead. 

You think you’re probably looking at him like that.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, smile playing on your lips for no reason. “I feel great, honestly.”

Hyunjae’s brows furrow. “How much did you have to drink?”

You hum, looking at your fingers as if they’ll tell you. “Chanhee gave them to me. So a lot, I think.” You wonder if Hyunjae even heard you from the silence that follows, but you just settle against him, leaning into his side. He’s big and firm next to you, and he blocks the wind, and god, he smells good.

But he stiffens how he never has before from your proximity.

Oh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, belatedly realizing you complimented his cologne out loud. Your hand slips off his leg — you’re not sure when it ended up there, honestly. “I’m out of it.”

“I know,” his voice is a little tense and your eyes sting suddenly. “I’ll call you an uber. You’re really drunk, Y/N-ie.”

It’s like someone poured ice water over you. “No, ‘s okay,” you can’t bear to look at him, suddenly terrified his eyes will be like they were when he rejected Soobin. “Jimin is getting me home.”

Hyunjae doesn’t move. But you don’t speak and neither does he.

The only goodbye you get is a small and stiff smile and a nod to Jimin as she loops your arm over her shoulder and brings you to the front.

For a week and a half, you manage to avoid Hyunjae and sulk.

It really does feel like the world is ending, having realized you have a crush on him and he, clearly, did not reciprocate. But he was your friend and you couldn’t avoid him forever, as much as it stung to see him while you were nursing your feelings.

Case in point, when he and Eric show up on your doorstep unannounced on a Tuesday. 

“Why are you here?” You grumble, arms crossed. Thankfully, Lily was out so you wouldn’t have to worry about them disturbing her.

”To study,” Eric grins at you, boyish and charming. “You haven’t been coming! So we came to you.”

You sigh heavily. “Come on in, then.”

Honestly, you are a little miffed. But you’re touched, too, knowing they care and were worried enough to show up and pull you out of whatever sulky mood you were in. Hyunjae mouths ‘you okay?’ at you, so you know the main reason was concern if you were okay, not studying for the legal communications final.

But it’s perfectly fine, and Eric makes ramen (you’d have to buy more for your pantry, since using six packets for the three of you was, in your opinion, excessive).

Hyunjae doesn’t seem to remember the party. Or if he does, he has the decency to not embarrass you. You’re not sure which you’d prefer.

After that day and how awkward you felt, you stopped avoiding them and everything seemed… normal.

Studying, hang-outs with their friend group (yours, now, too you supposed), conversations that were just you and Hyunjae on the quad — studying, doom scrolling, eating, really whatever struck your fancy that day. 

The most memorable one was an oddly warm day for the fact it was November, with the sun out and not behind clouds. The two of you were capitalizing on the small bit of warmth and vitamin D, lounging on a far too small towel and chatting.

Hyunjae was done with his work, so he was scrolling Tiktok while you lamented over the article you were reading. He had the answers too, having done this class the semester prior, but your pride refused his help. 

Instead, he settled for resting with his head next to your knee, sprawled out as he watched (what you hoped were) animal videos. Your train of thought is interrupted when he shows you one — his screen blocking your vision of your messily annotated print-out and you focus instead on the pout on his face.

“Watch!”

So you do, giving the appropriate horrified gasp when the cat in the video (Waffle) smacked the dog of the house (Maple) for daring to lay down in its own bed. 

“Isn’t it so mean?” Hyunjae laments as the video loops, and he mutes it quickly. “What did the poor doggie do?”

You hum. “Exist, probably. Cats are assholes.”

“Cute assholes,” Hyunjae nods sagely, the pout still stuck on his face. “Why are they like that?”

You chuckle, shoving your work to the side and stretching out slowly. “We let ‘em get away with it.”

“Who is we?”

“People who have them. And who are liked by their family dog.”

His offended gasp makes you chuckle. “Take that back!” Hyunjae whines, jostling your shoulder. “I am so nice to him.”

“And he still doesn’t like you…” you trail off, trying to hide your grin and failing. “It’s okay. Everyone has something wrong with them.”

Hyunjae shakes his head. “I’m perfect.”

“Add big ego to the cons list.”

Work forgotten, the two of you bantered and laughed until it got too cold to stay outside, and your heart was so fond and you were so into him. It was enough to be his friend, though, to bask in some of the light and love he had.

The weather is too cold for studying on the quad, and the library coffee shop is always packed to a level that is claustrophobic. Naturally, without any real discussion, the study group moved to Hyunjae (and Haknyeon)’s apartment.

It was a nice place, and you realize it’s where Sangyeon’s surprise birthday party was held. Hyunjae mentions another roommate, but apparently he doesn’t care if people are over and spends most of his time at his girlfriend’s place.

It’s how you find yourself, a week before winter break, stressed out of your mind as you sit cross legged on Hyunjae’s bed. Eric had left for some dinner plans a few hours ago and Haknyeon needed the living room.

Hyunjae’s room is nice, and shockingly clean. He has pictures of friends and family scattered about, a neutral and green color scheme, and an expensive looking gaming setup he now sits at while you work. He had finished all his work already, so you’re left struggling with your math homework alone. 

Your eyes are tired and his comforter is soft. You don’t even remember falling asleep (it’s impressive you did, since he had been bickering with whoever he was playing with on the mic). When you wake up, it’s dark. Your homework and pens are scattered next to you and you hear Hyunjae humming along to soft music.

When a wet wipe touches your cheek, it wakes you up enough to look at him and try to sit up. “Sorry,” you mumble, staring at the makeup wipe in his hand curiously. You don’t think you want to know why he has them. His touch is gentle and soft, and he carefully wipes off your base makeup. “What time is it?”

Hyunjae smiles, booping your nose as he wipes off the last of your foundation. “One,” and then he’s quiet again, wiping away your eye makeup carefully, only speaking to tell you to open or close your eyes.

You sit up quickly and try to gather your things clumsily, crumpling the worksheet some as you do. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I’ll head home.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjae soothes, one hand grabbing your shoulder as he holds you down. “Just stay for the night, I don’t feel okay letting you walk home at this hour.” He brushes your hair back and smiles again, and the flickering fondness and light in his eyes has your heart racing. 

His proximity is nerve-wracking, and you wonder if he might kiss you, this close, this fucking pretty, smelling as good as he does. He doesn’t. “Are you hungry?”

You nod shyly.

“I’ll make something. You can pack your things but don’t you dare slip out and go home,” his tone is light but you know he means it so you agree and quietly gather your things while you hear movement in their kitchen.

He comes back a bit later with chapagetti, and your stomach rumbles at the sight. Once you’re finished eating, he hands you his unlocked laptop and says “pick any of the ghibli movies I have saved.” Then gone again, to do the dishes.

You settle on Princess Mononoke and really try not to stare while Hyunjae tugs off his shirt and changes into a different one. You fail miserably, burning the sight of his back muscles flexing and rippling into your brain. He gives you a toothbrush and you get ready quickly before awkwardly perching on the side of his bed, suddenly nervous when he’s dressed down and laying there. 

It’s too domestic, for you to be friends and do this.

“I don’t bite. Come on.” He pats the bed and you quietly crawl in, holding your breath every time his hand or arm brushes against you as he settles the screen where you can both see it.

Light from the window wakes you in the morning. Somehow, you curled into him in your sleep, coming to with a steady heartbeat thrumming under your head and your limbs curling around him.

Fuck, you were screwed, heart skipping a beat from the proximity. You study the gentleness to his features, the fluttering of his eyelashes as the light shifts higher, and you know your time is limited. 

But god, you wanted to stay like this.

Over winter break, you were practically always on a call with Hyunjae or texting. You feared how your phone bill was going to look, but the financial repercussions couldn’t tear you off — it wasn’t even that interesting, mostly silence or small jokes and conversations as you two went about your day, too far apart to spend it together.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world, heart fluttering any time he changed it to a facetime, or when he sent a picture of a snowman he made, saying it was you. (When you asked why it was you, he said it was because it was cute, as if it was obvious as the weather that that was the reason. You might’ve screenshotted it and saved it to a folder, simply titled with the blue heart emoji, which is just dedicated to Hyunjae. It’s filled with texts, facetime photos, and that one photo Sangyeon had sent you so many months back — the live photo of him in the snow, laughing. Who could blame you?)

Back in person, it feels like your dynamic has shifted. It's weird, a good weird, with you more on his side than Sangyeon, Ryujin, or Jimin’s — where the first person you think to tell news to is him, and vice versa, where he shares updates with you before anyone.

Part of you wonders if he likes you back, but you don’t dare press it or test the waters in case you lose his friendship. Selfishly, you liked him too much to picture a life without him in it and would have him any way you could get him.

Halfway through the first week of the next quarter, when everyone is back on campus, you all have a get together at Kevin’s. Initially, it was meant to be you helping him learn how to bake, but with everyone trying to make plans, it just became a drop-in and hangout.

You spend most of it in the kitchen with Kevin.

“Kev, oh my god,” you gasp, a little stunned. “That is so much sugar.”

“They’re meant to be sweet!”

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to use four cups of sugar…” the mountain of plain granulated sugar on top of the butter in the mixer hurts your heart. “Do we have more butter?”

Kevin pouts. “Yeah. Did I fuck up?”

“Not enough that we can’t fix it,”

Haknyeon pipes up from where he sits at the island, spinning on the bar stool. “Do not bring those cookies near me when they’re done.”

“I’ll force feed them to you,” Kevin scoffs grumpily, handing you two more sticks of butter per your request. “Shut up.” Haknyeon raises his hands in surrender but mouths ‘crazy’ to you once Kevin turns his back to him.

You snicker and help Kevin fix the dough, praying it will turn out alright despite his “measuring sucks” approach and the fear it instills in your heart.

Hyunjae shows up at some point — you think it might’ve been when Kevin asked if you had to hit ‘start’ for the oven to start preheating. In his own apartment. He’s quiet for the most part, chatting quietly with Younghoon and Changmin.

The first time he speaks up is when the cookies are finally baking and you have a break. “Hi, Y/N-ie,” you hear him croon and you make your way over, smiling at him. It’s tired but genuine, and he hugs you quickly. “Free?”

“For now,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Who knew it was such a chore to bake?”

Hyunjae shrugs, keeping his hand by yours. The brush of his fingers on your wrist startles you slightly, and you look over to Sangyeon on the couch — he must feel your eyes on him, because he turns around and studies you two suspiciously. Your phone buzzes.

‘You two seem close’ is what you manage to read, eyes flicking back up in time to see Sangyeon wiggle his brows. You scowl and turn your attention back to Younghoon and Changmin’s stories until Kevin drags you away when the timer goes off.

They’re surprisingly tasty. A little bit bitter from a heavy-handed pour of vanilla extract, but you drizzle some melted chocolate over top and deem them “good enough!” for Kevin to call everyone who wanted some in.

Hyunjae doesn’t move so you go to him with a cookie, and he studies it carefully, hesitantly. “Are you poisoning me?”

“If anyone is, it’s Kevin,” you laugh. “And no. I tried them first. They’re pretty good.”

He scrunches up his nose. “I don’t believe you.”

“Damn. Got so close to killing you by cookie,” you play up a sigh. “Time for Plan E.”

“What were the other four?” Hyunjae laughs, and he takes a bite of the cookie anyways. 

“Well, the cookie was Plan D but I’m too good at baking,” you giggle, leaning your head on top of his. “The others are secrets.”

“I’ll have to keep my guard up then.”It’s not until later you check your messages, and see one from Hak — Hyunjae hates cookies. What did you threaten to get him to eat one? — that you think he may like you back.

And, of course, you have to test your theory. Haknyeon’s theory. God’s?

It doesn’t matter, not really. Hyunjae has an exam early in the semester, and he’d been stressed about it for days (“It’s going to ruin my GPA! What if I can’t call myself an academic weapon anymore?” and then: “Hyung, you aren’t one anyways.” You never knew Eric was a liar). 

You make a picnic basket that morning, and your face burns with heat when Lily asks you what it’s for. You stumble over a high-pitched “nothing!” and her laughter had been ringing in your head since.

Sandwiches, cookies (of course. This was Plan E — the E stood for ‘eating this means he likes me, because I want to think he does’), his favorite Milkis since you had gotten him hooked on them, and a bunch of cut up fruit. 

He looks exhausted when he walks out of the building, sighing and eyes heavy. He does his best to match your energy when you run up, but he can’t. It’s alright.

“Hyunjae!” you smile, and he smiles back, bemused, looking at the basket. “I made lunch.”

Hyunjae’s smile becomes a genuine grin. “For lil’ ol’ me?”

“Yeah,” you hum, and walk slowly towards the willow tree on the quad, making sure he’s following you. “You had a hard exam. Why not?”

“You’re sweet,” Hyunjae chuckles, and you watch the way he stumbles over his own feet when he speeds up seeing that you set up a blanket too. “Can we watch movies?”

You sigh, knowing exactly what he’ll pick. “Get your laptop out.”

His giddiness is childish and adorable, and your heart races watching how at home he gets in your presence, how quickly he does so, as he pulls up Howl’s Moving Castle for what must be the thirtieth time. 

He enjoys the food, and you quietly observe him — you’re sure it’s creepy, how your eyes dart around his face and watch him, but you will write it off as making sure he’s not too out of it from the all-nighter he did. If he asks.

And you do notice that he avoids the cookies.

“Jae?”

“Yeah?” He asks, after a startled pause. You wonder what caused it.

“Are the cookies any good? I tried a new recipe.”

He takes the bait, eating one. “They’re delicious.” He sounds genuine, but the way he tries to gulp water when you pointedly look away tells you everything you need to know.

Jimin was right. There is something wrong with every hot guy — how on earth could someone hate cookies? 

“Don’t you hate cookies?”

He hums, looking up from where he’s pillowed his head on his sweatshirt. “Just—” he clears his throat. “Just bad ones.” The lie falls flat, and he knows it too.

“So mine are an exception?”

Without missing a beat — “always.”

Nothing really happens after that picnic.

You still think he’s one of the most beautiful people on the planet, so handsome your heart aches when you look at him. But you think you might end up moving on from your crush — not because you don’t want him, you do, but because you think he’ll never make a move. And you know you won’t.

But your resolve is destroyed at a pool party (one he convinced you to go to by begging on call for thirty minutes while you failed to make progress on an essay).

He’s shirtless. That alone is enough for your skin to feel hot when you look at him, but any thoughts of ‘do I actually have a crush or do I just like his attention?’ are dissolved when (and, yes, you do definitely have a crush on him still) you see him laughing and smiling when a girl named Dahyun talks to him.

He’s in the pool, hair curly and dripping water he keeps wiping away, and god, that makes his muscles flex. He looks beautiful in the golden hour light. You know Dahyun notices too, by the way her lashes flutter and she wades a little closer. It makes you feel sick.

Trying to distract yourself from the jealousy that twists and churns in your stomach, you go inside and raid the cooler for a shitty beer. It’s disgusting and cheap, but the alcohol is something else to focus on. You grab a second to hand Sunwoo, who had been setting up at the table next to yours.

“Damn,” he whistles playfully, a small smirk on his lips when you hand him the beer. “A pretty girl getting me a beer? I must be in heaven.”

“Maybe if you saved all your game for the girl you actually liked,” you laugh when he scowls at you. “But thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.”

It’s a silly bit that started a few parties back (you honestly don’t remember when), where you’d hype one another up. Juyeon had asked one time — you think he was concerned — if you actually had a crush on Sunwoo. You didn’t, but apparently it seemed real.

Which is why it was all the weirder when you feel a wet hand grab your shoulder. You glance up and sideways, trying to meet Hyunjae’s gaze. It’s trained on Sunwoo and he squints, frowns, before smiling at you and murmuring a quiet “hi.”

The air feels charged. Sunwoo shifts anxiously and eyes the two of you, and you think you see him sigh in relief when Eric calls him over for something. 

“Hi, Jae,” you whisper softly, turning to fully face him. His expression is unreadable. “You okay? Headed out?”

Hyunjae shakes his head, and you flinch back at the small bit of water landing on you with a playful pout. “We’re gonna play Marco Polo. Wanna join?” It takes one glance at Dahyun, whose attention is still trained on Hyunjae, before you nod in agreement.

You hold onto his arm for balance as you pull off your cover up. “Let’s go,”

Hyunjae slips on the wet tile in his hurry to follow you, and you giggle at the shock on his face as he catches himself. The water is cold, but you dip under and get your hair wet to acclimate and twirl to face him, beaming. 

“C’mon, Jae, we gotta win,”

Sunwoo and Changmin keep bringing you drinks in between rounds, and you definitely have a buzz by the time the sun has finished setting and the game fizzles out as people head home.

You’re shivering while you pack up your things, and your teeth chatter when you try to say something to Hyunjae — your ride this time.

He laughs and wraps your towel around you tightly, using the fabric to tug you towards him. He’s too strong for his own good, and the warmth of his bare chest against you has you speechless. “Want help drying your hair?”

You nod dumbly, and let him spin you to face away. Your back is against his chest, and you shiver again as he tugs the towel away again. You really hope he’ll think it’s from the wind, and not every nerve of yours lighting up as his back presses against you and he carefully towel dries your hair with a touch so gentle it feels practiced.

It’s quiet, with just the buzz of bugs and chatter somewhere inside to fill the air. It feels heavier and more intimate without noise, and you’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand or skin against yours.

“Jae?” you ask, barely above a whisper. 

The toweling pauses. “Yeah?”

You don’t have the courage to ask him what you want, and you don’t want to lose the warmth of him behind you, basking in his attention and the buzz you have going. “Nothing,” you mumble, letting him spin you around to check if your hairline is dry enough. Your eyes flutter open when his hands pull away, and you know your gaze lingers on his lips for several beats too long. 

Hyunjae puts up your towel, hands you your cover up, and smiles. “Homeward?”

“Homeward.” 

‘help with hyunjae sos’ is what Haknyeon’s message reads when you look at it at eight p.m. on a Monday. You reply, simply, with ‘???’

‘he’s forcing me to do math :( make him stop.’ You react with haha, and head over to their apartment after gathering your homework — you figured you could study with Hyunjae and that’s what Haknyeon was getting at.

You don’t find Hyunjae chasing Haknyeon with a packet of his terrible math class homework. When Haknyeon answers the door alone, he says “in his room” before you can even ask the question.

Frowning, you make your way over and knock on his open door. He’s sitting at his desk, head in his hands, and he jumps at the sound. There’s tear stains on his cheeks and you can feel your heart break a little looking at how he’s curled in on himself.

And you feel like a shitty friend. You’ve always thought he had everything together and never really struggled, and you never questioned that perception. “Oh, Jae, sweetheart,” you coo softly, the pet name barely registering before it slips out. He welcomes your hug, melting into your arms with soft, broken sobs and shaky breaths as all he can get out.

You trail your fingers over his back and soothingly rub over the fabric of his t-shirt until his breathing slows and gets more normal. When you try to pull back, his fingers clutch at you and you stop in your tracks. 

“Let’s work on it together, okay?” You offer softly. You know you’re not much help with math, but it’s at least something to offer it. Even if you end up just being a good distraction. 

Hyunjae shakes his head. “‘M done. I… I can’t.”

“Okay,” you soothe, brushing a hand through his hair and tilting his head up so you can meet his eyes, glassy and tired. “Then let’s watch some movies. You get ready for bed, I’ll set it up.”

And he smiles for the first time since you got there.

By the time he feels better, it’s too late for you to get home, and he doesn’t need to say much to convince you to stay over (you like being near him, but this also doubles as making sure he’s truly and genuinely okay).

“Is it okay if I shower and use your shampoo and stuff?” You ask softly.

Hyunjae smiles. “Yeah. Here, you can have some clothes too.” He tosses sweats and a shirt and you pull at the fabric.

“I don’t know if it’ll fit, Jae,”

“It’s big on me. It’ll fit.”

He was right. Honestly, you look ridiculous in it, drowning in fabric. You should’ve expected that, considering how muscular he is. 

When you finally begin drifting off, his arms are wrapped around your waist and his breath tickles the skin of your neck. It’s that way when you wake up, too, and it takes Herculean effort to climb out of his embrace (instead of remaining snuggled into him).

After waking up enough, you decide to start making breakfast for you, him, and Haknyeon — french toast, thank god they had ingredients in their fridge and pantry (Eric’s still haunts you). You make coffee as well, humming songs stuck in your head as you work.

The clink of a mug catches your attention, and then your mouth is dry.

Hyunjae. Shirtless. It takes a few seconds for you to even register that he’s showered, curls having droplets trail down his toned torso. You stare shamelessly at one that rolls down into his sweats, looking at the light that catches on his bare skin. 

“Um,” you clear your throat and take a big sip of coffee, face on fire. “What classes do you have today?” 

Hyunjae sighs softly, happily. “Just a senior seminar. My other one got cancelled.” If he noticed how pitchy and weird you sounded asking the question, he doesn’t say anything.

Haknyeon seems too tired to comment on the way you stare at Hyunjae all morning. Or maybe he’s grateful enough for the food that he chooses to be kind and keep his mouth shut.

It feels like it’s been years since you hung out with just Ryujin and Jimin. And with the somersaults your heart does every time you see Hyunjae, it was also far overdue. It takes well over an hour to explain your crush and every little thing you’ve read into (and hoped meant him liking you too), because you kept getting derailed and telling mini-stories.

Neither of them mind, though Ryujin does comment that she needed popcorn to get into your rant (honestly, you think it would’ve added to the experience if she had it).

“I’m… I don’t know, it just feels like I’m in limbo, you know?” You finally start wrapping it up. “I like him so much. But I’m terrified of ruining what we already have, and I don’t know how to read him. I can’t.”

Jimin nods. “There is something wrong with every hot man.”

“I know!” you whine. “You’ve said. He doesn’t like cookies. Surely he’s not afraid of commitment too.”

Ryujin snorts. “He could so be afraid of commitment.”

“Not helpful,” Jimin chides. Then, to you, “she’s joking.”

After being jabbed in the side, Ryujin sighs and nods. “I mean, it sounds like he likes you, yeah. Why else would he glare at Sunwoo?”

“Because he thought his friend was being weird and hitting on me?”

“And why would a friend care about that?” Jimin asks.

“Because he’s a good person?”

Ryujin groans. “Because he’s jealous. Girl, please open your eyes.”

You blink at her. “They’re open.” You can feel the cussing out she wants to give you bubbling up, so you quickly apologize. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just… do I go for it?”

“Yes.” and, then, “if you feel ready for it.”

Ryujin snatches your phone off the couch and you see her screen light up with a message from you: Y/N shared a contact: jae 💙🪻. “Thank me later,” 

You watch her quickly type a text, and you feel your heart sink. “Ryujin!” 

She grins. “Trust me.”

“What did you say? Seriously, this is so not cool.”

Jimin watches the two of you like a tennis match as you pick up a pillow and whack the other girl, chasing her around and around your living room until the two of you topple over, breathless. And she still refuses to tell you what she said.

But it gets defused and forgotten about by the time you all make Ghirardelli box brownies, eating them with a scoop of vanilla ice cream as you begin gossiping about their crushes and life updates.

By midnight, all the brownies are gone and you’re practically starving. You hadn’t refilled your pantry since Eric’s latest raid, so with several reassurances that “yes, I’ll be safe” and a resharing of your location with Ryujin and Jimin, you go to the nearby convenience store.

The one owned by the woman who loved you (and you, her).

You’re pondering what Selection ice cream to get for you and Lily to have in the freezer when you hear the door chime and running footsteps.

“Is it true?” Hyunjae asks, forgoing even a ‘hi.’ He’s breathless, sounding and looking almost frantic. His bag is half unzipped, clutched in his right hand. “Is it true?” He asks again, softly, hand grabbing your wrist.

“Is what true? Elaborate, Jae.” You zip up his bag and look at him curiously, watch his heaving chest as he catches his breath. “I thought you were studying in the library for another hour.”

“I was. I…” Hyunjae takes a moment. “Do you not know what Ryujin sent?”

Your heart skips a beat. “No, just that she texted you. She refused to let me see it.”

Hyunjae takes a deep breath and — his hands are shaking as he draws his phone out of his pocket. Your frown deepens, and you watch him unlock it and navigate to the two messages in the conversation.

‘Y/N has a crush on you, do something about it’ and ‘she’s at the convenience store a block away now, you can catch her if you hurry’.

You swallow, suddenly wanting to look anywhere but at him. But you can’t help it, can’t help yourself as you look at him and the softness to his lips and eyes, the sharpness of his bone structure, the delicacy of his features. Even the mole on his nose catches and hooks your attention. 

You couldn’t say you didn’t have a crush on him. You did. God, you did. But it’s so hard to just say it. “Depends,” you chuckle, forcing bravado and a confident front. “What are you gonna do about it, if it is?” 

Don’t reject me runs through your head like a prayer.

“Y/N,” Hyunjae says, eyes softening. His voice is equally soft, warm and gentle. There’s a desperation and rawness to it too, and your heart speeds up in anticipation despite your fears. “Is it true?”

You swallow. No turning back. A soft nod.

Hyunjae’s entire body relaxes. “Say it.”

“It’s true,” you whisper.

“Good,” he steps closer, and your pulse thrums with excitement as his hand slides up the back of your neck and his thumb rubs over your cheek, lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

His bag falls — and then his mouth is on yours, and his other hand holds your hip as he tugs you into him. His head tilts and matches your rhythm as if it was his own, as natural as breathing. The world spins as you lean into him, gently curling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He smells good, and he’s warm, and he’s soft, and he’s kind, and he’s kissing you until you have to pull back slightly, breathless. You leave your forehead against his, and you swear you could count stars in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he whispers softly and you nod, “I like you too. So much.”

You initiate this time, softer and slower. He melts into you, weakens against you — sighing when you pull away as he quietly chases your lips for a beat longer before his eyes flutter open again.

His hand laces with yours, wordless. It’s like he can’t find them, mouth still slightly parted as he studies you — and you, him, admiring the red flush high on his cheekbones and the slight sheen on your lipgloss on his mouth.

“I think I’m done studying for the night,” is what he manages after a few minutes.

“Yeah?” It comes out as a small, amused huff. 

“Yeah,” he repeats. “I have something much more important to do.”

“Care to share?”

Hyunjae blushes. “I have to ask the girl I like to be mine.”

— thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, consider replying, reblogging, sending an ask, or in some way telling me your fav parts!

[feeonajax]

SESSION 5 DOODLES (SPOILERS)!!!!!!!!

aaaand some zooms!:

(desc. from top left to bottom right: joel getting slippery from the quizbot, lizzie just generally being scared of the quizbot, the BAMBOOZLERS!!!, mumbo. , joel doing his 7 block jump and just cleo being there)

drew these all last night after joel posted bc i forced myself to wait for joel’s before getting spoiled 😭

[hopeswriting]

imagine you're luce, and you're born the heir to a mafia family. you're mafia-born, and so of course also mafia-raised, and then also a donna-to-be. you're raised to be able to take on the role, to be good and capable at it, are taught to make one of your core beliefs about how the many must come before the few, because the family must always come first. you're going to be the donna, of course you must always prioritize the family above all else, it's your foremost and most important duty.

if caring about the few too comes at the price of the many, comes at the price of the family, is it even worth it? if the happiness gained from it comes at the price of a greater suffering for others, is there even any meaning to it, even if it's your happiness we're talking about? you understand, don't you?

you're not sure if you do, but you care about your family, love it, want to do right by it once you become their donna, so you nod, listen and learn.

(you don't have to be taught the pain and loss and guilt and anger and bitterness is a fair price to pay for the pain you decide has to be inflicted and the sacrifices you decide must be made, including by yourself. it's the least you could do, even.)

imagine you're luce, and the gift of foresight runs through your blood.

you would not call it a gift. you did not ask for it either. and you'll never come to see it as something wanted by you.

you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course it's exactly the way you wanted it to go. you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course you didn't care to try hard enough to change it. you saw the future before the shape of it had yet to be breathed into existence, and who's to say it didn't come into existence only because you saw it happen? you saw the future, and it happened worse than it had to for it.

you can see the future, but you still can't make it anything else than what it was always going to be. you can even make the visions happen at your will, but you still have no say on what you see or how much you see. you still can only be the witness of it before anyone else can.

it does mean double and longer the happiness sometimes, means relief and gratefulness and hope beyond words, and it'd be cruel of you to voice out loud your feelings for others to hear the many more times it means something else.

you can see the future, and it doesn't make it any kinder on you than on anyone else, does not give you any more power or control over it than anyone else, but at least you can see the future. you're given the time to make peace with it, to brace yourself for it, to bargain with it, to plead and beg and fight against it however desperately and hopelessly, even if in the end it still happens exactly as you saw it would.

(you can see the future, and it still doesn't hurt you any less than anyone else when it happens, but you don't expect anymore for anyone to hold you any less responsible for it anyway. it would be nice for someone to do it one day, but you understand.)

you can see the future, and you decide it's a kindness to both yourself and others to keep it for yourself as much as possible whenever you can.

imagine you're luce, and your family has this set of rings they've looked after and protected for as long as your family has existed. they're one set of three of the most important artifacts in the world, ones that help in safeguarding its existence and balance. they're duty, the very first one and the most important one your family was created for.

the pacifier around your mother's neck is duty too, and the most important and powerful artifact among twenty-one in safeguarding the world and its balance. it's been passed down in your family too, from mother to daughter. it's duty, but less tied to your family and much more to the blood running through your veins. it's a curse, in fact, as it demands heavy sacrifices the rings don't, and one that can only be tied to the blood running through your veins.

(your mother looks at you as if expecting some kind of reaction from you, and you can only wonder at which point you weren't supposed to see it as a given. duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for a long time now. is it even duty if it doesn't require any sacrifices from you?)

imagine you're luce, and your mother dies for duty. she's the donna, and so she dies for your family. she's the sky arcobaleno, and so she dies for the world. she's your mother, but she dies anyway, doesn't fight it either, even knowing she will leave you behind, even knowing she won't ever get to see what you look like all grown-up.

everywhere you look, duty stares back at you, from your mother and the pacifier around her neck, her love for your family and the life she gives up for it, her love for you and how she dies anyway while you're still only a child. duty, from your family members and how they die for you and kill for you, how they do both at your command, how their lives are in the palms of your hands and how they weigh only as much as you allow them to at a time. duty, from the knowledge your foresight gives you and the shackles tied to the blood running through your veins.

your mother's only duty while she lives too. she loves you, but she'd have had to give birth to you anyway even if she didn't. she loves you, but she still gave birth to you even knowing the kind of life you'd have to live, the kind of hands you'd inevitably end up with, the burdens she'd have to lay on your shoulders, passing them down from her own. because she loves you, she finds the resolve to raise you to be able to face all of it head-on and come out on top, but she'd have had to raise you much the same way anyway even if she didn't.

(she doesn't die for you, doesn't fight to be able to keep living with you, and this, too, is your mother surrendering to duty one last time.)

(you're so sick of it, so angry at it, so hateful and resentful against it. you're so stifled by it to the point you've stopped being able to breathe for a long time now. or you would have been if they had taught you how to face duty in this way too.

it's for the better they didn't. a silver lining, sparing you pain that isn't necessary for you to go through. everyone you turn to only teaches you how to keep holding your breath longer, and you listen and learn, obedient and dutiful as you've ever been.

you're grateful for it too. really, you are.)

everywhere you look, there's no room for you to so much as question any of it, let alone anything more. duty is commendable, something you ought to look up to and strive towards, strive to achieve. duty is the right thing to do. of course it is.

(you exhale a breath of relief that shakes you down to your very core.

thank god, it's at least the right thing to do.

you're grateful for it beyond words. really, you are.)

imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know the choice you'll make when climbing that mountain, when standing on top of it, when waiting for a bright light to shine down on you from above. you know the choice you'll make then, even when pregnant with your daughter.

it doesn't matter since how long you knew, be it years, months, days, hours or minutes before. all that matters is that before you can even contemplate the idea of making another choice and all its implications and possible consequences, before the thought can even come alive in your mind, you already know the choice you'll make.

(you can see the future, but just because you already saw it, it doesn't mean it's now set in stone.

you can see the future, but just because you're given the chance to fight to change it, it doesn't mean it still won't happen every bit like you saw it.

it doesn't mean it can't still happen even worse than how you first saw it happen because you fought to change it, no matter how already dreadful it originally was.)

imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know they'll be others with you standing on top of that mountain. you're the only one who'll know it before it happens.

(because you can see the future.

and oh, you did not ask for it.)

they're strangers, people you don't owe anything to. adults who choose to show up at the first meeting, and to show up to every following mission after that. the chosen seven, whose ambitions and prides lead them to walk the path of the seven strongest too once laid down in front of them.

you don't force their hands in making any of those choices for them. you're not responsible for any of them.

you become coworkers then, accomplices, your hands stained in blood to various extent, but now dipping in the same pool of blood as you strive towards the same goal together. you have each other's backs, learn each other's strengths and weaknesses, learn each other's personalities, likes and dislikes. you keep having to spend more time together as the missions keep coming your way.

inevitably, you come to care about them. even more damning, they come to care about you in return. enough so they'll look after your daughter even after what'll happen on top of that mountain. enough so they'll look after your granddaughter too, warmly and fondly enough she'll call one of them uncle.

you're still the only one who knows they'll stand together with you on top of that mountain, not knowing what'll happen on it like you do.

and you do care about them, you swear you do. really, you do.

(you care about them the same way your mother cared about you, and how she still raised you to have steel in you and be made of sharp edges you know how to use. you care about them the same way you care about your family, and how you still send them to their deaths as needed so the rest of your family you care about just the same can keep on living longer and safely. this is the only way you've had the chance to learn how to care and love.

duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for as long as you can remember. it doesn't matter at which point sacrifices came to mean love to you too.

and most of all, you love your daughter more than anything else in the world.)

imagine you're luce, and this is who you are. this is who you've been raised to be, the only way you've been given room to grow up to be. this is the life you've lived and the kind of life that has shaped you as the person you are now. this is what you've been taught and told is the best version of yourself you could have grown up to be. this is who you ended up being by what you've been taught and told are all the right choices to make.

you're still the only one who knows what is about to happen on top of that mountain. it hasn't happened yet. the fate of the world hangs on what'll happen on top of that mountain, the same world you'll have to give birth to your daughter in. the same daughter you're currently pregnant with.

now imagine you're luce, look me in the eye and tell me you'd know how to even form the thought of the possibility of there being any other choice to make. look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't look at the only choice in front of you, and know deep in your bones it's the only right choice to make. that it is right of you to make it. because it simply has to be.

(imagine you're luce, and you're not doomed by the narrative. of course, you're not.

why would you need to be when the narrative has painstakingly shaped you all your life to become its perfect, faithful and dutiful sacrificial lamb?

and then, imagine you're luce, and you're even grateful for it, so, so very grateful it held up its end of the bargain too.

truly, you are.)

[mars-ipan]

more solo magma doodles. this time featuring fortune, the very original and not-at-all-based-on-anything tiefling paladin i'm going to be playing in a new campaign this summer :]

[whatifitis]

♡ Cursing The Daylight - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando hates knowing you never sleep well so when he believes he's figured out why, he makes it his mission to save his sleepy girlfriend from sleep deprivation.

Author's note: A little blurb thing I wrote at 2 am. I tried my best 😭

WC: 1045

CW: Lando being a bit dumb and the sweetest person ever, fluff

You were currently cursing the daylight, watching as a blue bird flew past your window.

Fucker 

It was yet another sleepless night in your apartment. You continued to stare at your alarm clock, waiting for it to go off, a little reminder that if you were capable of sleeping properly, you’d still have 5 more minutes of sleep. 

For most of your life, especially in recent years, you’ve never been able to get a full night's rest. You’d always end up tossing and turning for hours, as well as waking up about 7 times a night. Every day you would feel irritated and restless due to your lack of sleep. 

However, whenever you slept over at your boyfriend's house, you always managed to get a good night's sleep. You and your boyfriend, Lando, have been together for about 5 months. The first night you two had spent together, was the first time you’d been able to sleep well. You woke up bright and early and you felt amazing, like nothing could stop you. 

Over the course of your relationship, Lando came to be aware of your inability to sleep well most nights. Whenever you would sleep in your own apartment, Lando would receive mass amounts of texts from you, all about how you slept terribly and that you either needed a nap or many coffees. 

Lando, being the ever so lovely person he is, picked up on something. The only times you would get a good night's sleep, waking up and not needing to complain about anything and everything, was when you slept at his place. 

The mattress! The boy thought, she sleeps better at mine cause my mattress is fucking mint. 

Upon realizing this, Lando goes and orders the same exact mattress he has, and has it sent to yours. He thought it’d be a nice surprise for you so that you can get a goodnight sleep every night. Another plus would be that you guys are coming up on your 6 month anniversary, this counts as a gift right?, thinks Lando. 

The day Lando gets an email stating that the mattress was out for delivery, he books it to your place, wanting to be there to see your reaction to his gift and so that he could help you bring it in and set it up. 

Lando arrives at your apartment, greeted by you with a massive smile and sparkling eyes. He wastes no time in pulling you to him by your hips and wrapping his arms around your torso. As you wrap your arms around his neck you say, “As much as I love seeing you, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up later tonight for movie night.”

As Lando pulls away to look at you, the postman has just arrived. “That’s why.” he says, smiling cheekily and pointing to the truck behind him. 

The both of you watch as the postman begins to unload the mattress from the vehicle, before Lando jumps in and helps the man drag the mattress to the door of your apartment. 

Whilst Lando and the man bring the mattress into your apartment, you stand there dumbfounded. 

What the actual fuck is going on? The only thing I’ve ordered to my apartment is a new book and I don’t think the book is that big? Wait, did I order the right thing?!

As soon as the box is in your living area, you confront Lando, “Lan, my love, my gorgeous boy… what the fuck?” you ask, pointing at the big ass box in your living area. 

Your Lan stands there next to the box, all but swaying as he stands and gives you the biggest smile he could plaster on his face. 

The cheeky fuck. 

“It’s a mattress!” he says as he poses next to it, adding a pose for effect. 

“A mattress?” you ask.

“A mattress.” 

After a moment of silence, where you contemplated whether to strangle him or take his credit card away from him, you ask “Why?”

“Cause, you’re always tired and you never sleep well unless you’re at my place. So I figured out why! It’s because you find my mattress to feel so much better and comfier. I even ordered the same bed sheets I have, but I got yours in green since it’s your favorite color. They should be here tomorrow though so for tonight you can spend the night with me or we can use your old sheets.” he proposes, smiling so wide it makes your heart melt from the sweetness that you don’t deserve. 

He gets you the same mattress he has in his home, for your home. 

“I sleep better at yours because you’re there. Not because of the mattress, you muppet!” you exclaim. 

You watch as Lando’s face immediately drops, “what?” he asks. He’s truly been stunned with this information, “What’d you mean it’s not because of the mattress? You mean to tell me I haven’t helped solve your sleeping issues?! I thought I was smarter than all the doctors you’ve seen for this issue!”

You can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend's statement. 

“Gorgeous, you thought that of all the doctors I’ve seen… that none of them have thought that I was sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress?” 

Lando just stood there silent, blankly staring at a wall, likely contemplating all his life choices. 

“Fuck. So, do you not want the mattress? Seems like a hassle to return.” he states as he scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he’s going to return the heavy ass box. “Wait, you sleep better when you’re around me?” he looks at you, somewhat shocked. 

You walk up to him, taking his hands in yours and making him look you in the eyes, “Gorgeous, in the time we’ve been together, we’ve slept on couches and several different mattresses. And I always sleep well no matter where or what we are sleeping on. I sleep better because I’m with you, I feel safe with you.”

“Oh… oh!” he giggles a bit. Red starts to lightly color his face, he’s blushing, “That’s nice.”

You don’t think you’ve met anyone more awkward than this man, but you love him because of that, not in spite of it. 

[gayfrasier]

Cuddy reads Allende I LOOOVVVVEEEE HERRRRR

[chaoticwriting]

THE FATHER 2

Part 1

After the last incident, Danny totally expects the public to be afraid of him or even persecute him for killing the Joker. He did kill in front of a live stream after all. What he doesn't expect is the public giving their full support to him. Almost every single news media paints him in a good light, saying he is just protecting his children and bringing up all his previous charity.

However, there is one big problem Danny doesn't foresee. Danny doesn't even know about the problem because his children are the one that are suffering from it.

-Gotham Academy-

Emma: *Slamming her phone on the table* For the love of god, stop making thirst trap of my dad. He is too old for some of you (He is 20).

Becky: I know right. This is like the sixth thirst trap video that I see of dad.

Carl: I hate this so much. My crush just accepted my confession but on the condition I will introduce her to dad.

Larry: And you agree?

Carl: What? No! Of course not.

Emma: Ugghhh, this is the worst. Maybe we should ask Uncle Tucker to remove all of Dad's thirst trap online. I'm so done with this.

Larry: I don't know. This is the first time girls decide to talk to me voluntarily. I really am enjoying this attention.

Carl: You're happy now until one of the girls decides to confess to you and just as you thought because she likes you, it is because she has a crush on dad.

Larry: I know you just experienced it but you don't need to curse me like that.

Carl: Hmph.

Larry: Hey, has anyone seen Colin? I haven't seen him since last night.

Becky: *Whispersing* Don't you hear? Colin got shot after he went to patrol the night before yesterday. Dad grounds him cause he tries to sneak out injured last night.

Carl: Oof. Colin really doesn't learn does he? Dad has super sense. He literally can't sneak out.

Larry: Yeah. I don't even know why he wants to be a vigilante so much. I guess he is just kind of something. Couldn't be me to be honest.

Emma: Of course he is not like you. You are not even capable of waking up by yourself in the morning.

*Riiiinngggg*

Becky: Well that is our break then. Let's go to class.

Larry: Eh, it's not like Miss Brown gonna scold me if I am a little late anyway. She has been trying to get Dad's number from me for a while now.

Carl: Does dad even have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend? Hell, a partner? I never saw him gone on a date once so far.

Emma: Chances are probably super low. Like to say he is dense is an understatement. A woman tried to flirt with him once but he just replied to all the flirting with the straightest face possible.

The rest: *Giggles*

-Gotham Libraries-

Contrary to what his kids have been believing in, he actually knows when someone is flirting with him. It's just that he takes note from the dense anime protagonist and uses it in daily life whenever he is not interested in a person flirting with him. Which is like daily.

But here is the problem. He can respond to a flirt very easily. He learns a lot of that from when he was dating Sam. But he never actually flirts with someone first. And he isn't sure just how to approach the problem.

Having decided that he has stayed long enough, Danny picks a random book from the space section and brings it to the checkout table.

Danny: Hey Barbara.

Barbara: Hey Danny. Borrowing another book?

Danny: Yeah. I just finished the previous one last night. It is a good book. Thanks for the recommendation.

Barbara: You're welcome. How's the kids doing? Still causing trouble for you?

Danny: It's the same shenanigans everyday. Going to lectures, doing paperwork, taking care of the kids. What about you?

Barbara: It's the same with me. Barely any people come to the library these days. Usually it's only either you or my friends.

Danny: Oh. Errmm, Barbara.

Barbara: Yes?

Danny: Would you be free this weekend?

Barbara: Are you asking me on a date?

Danny: Depends. If it is, what would you say?

Barbara: Hmmm, let me think.

Danny fidgets as Barbara taps her finger on the counter. Barbara loves to tease Danny since he is so cute when he is nervous.

Barbara: I think I am free this weekend. So I am available for a date.

Danny's face beams a smile as he hears that.

Danny: So is that a yes?

Barbara: What do you think, big guy?

Danny: Then I will come pick you up at your apartment then?

Barbara: Come pick me up at my dad's house. I will be ready at 5.

Danny: Okay. Have a good day.

Barbara: You too.

Danny then walks out of the library, skipping a little. He has been gathering courage to ask Barbara out on a date for a long time now. They first met when Danny first borrowed a book from a library. It's nothing crazy. Just interaction between two people. But after meeting up a few more times, Danny realizes that he might have a crush on her. After getting convinced by Tucker and Sam, Danny decided that today is the day he asks her out. And he succeeded.

Now, it is just to make sure that the date goes well.

-Clocktower-

Batman: That's it for tonight. Everyone returns back to the cave.

Black Bat/Spoiler/Red Robin: Roger.

Oracle: Hey, B. Can I have a day off this weekend?

Batman: Why?

Oracle: I have a date that night.

Spoiler: You are dating someone?

Oracle: It's not official yet. He only just asks me out on a date this morning.

Batman: Yes. Keep your comms up. In case a breakout happens your way.

Oracle: Okay.

Red Robin: Who are you going on a date with?

Oracle: Danny.

Spoiler: As in that Danny?

Oracle: Yes.

Spoiler: Oh wow! You work fast. How do you know him?

Oracle: He always comes to the library to borrow books. I met him long before he became famous so it is not so hard to talk with him.

Black Bat: Is he nice?

Oracle: He is very nice. It's very hard to even make him mad. The only time I remember him being in a slightly bad mood is at Christmas. He doesn't like it apparently. Wait, Hood is entering the line.

Red Hood: Oracle, you betray me!

Oracle: Tough luck loser. How do you know anyway?

Red Robin: I told him just now.

Red Hood: Yeah! You dare ask him out on a date first before me? I will remember this.

Oracle: He is the one that actually asks me out. We are going on an official date this weekend. I'll take a very nice picture of us together so that you can see from afar.

Red Hood: But your status still isn't official yet. I still have a chance.

Oracle: Over my dead body.

Red Hood: Oh, I will.

Spoiler: Errr, guys. What is happening?

Red Robin: They have a bet on who will get to date Danny first. Apparently Hood gets a massive crush on this guy after what happens in the livestream. Oracle gets the news and they quarrel a little bit. After that I propose a competition between the two.

Spoiler: But both of you don't know that Oracle is already close with Danny. Girl, that's dirty.

Oracle: All is fair in love and war.

Batman: What is his background?

Red Robin: As far as I can see, he is pretty clean. There is even what I suspect some vigilante works that he might have done because he is related to the disbandment of GIW that were supported by both his parents and his godfather. But after some digging into the old GIW files, there are traces of Danny and his friends helping the local ghost hero fighting either other ghosts or the agents themselves. There was also the unexplained money that he suddenly had early on in his career as CEO but so far, it doesn't seem like anything bad.

Robin: Hmmm.

Red Robin: What is it brat?

Robin: I feel like his face is very familiar.

Batman: Explain.

Robin: I need to confirm this with mother. But I am fairly certain that his ancestors have connections with the Al Ghul.

Red Robin: As in blood related?

Robin: No. But there is a book that mother finds about a man who has a very similar appearance to him. The book tells the tale of a kind immortal who spends his lives helping others while learning stuff from them.

Spoiler: A cult of assassins teach young children to be kind?

Robin: Shut it, Brown. I am not finished. The part of the story that interests me is the tale called The Beheader of Demon.

Spoiler: I take it back. That sounds like something a cult of assassins will teach young children.

Robin: The tale tells a story of the immortal meeting a demon who kills people just to find immortality. When the demon finds out that the immortal is well, immortal, he pursues the immortal, trying to kill him and forces the immortal to give away his immortality to him.

Red Robin: What happened next?

Robin: The Demon's head is severed and the Demon's subordinates run away bringing the Demon's body to the pool of revival.

Spoiler: So is this a true story?

Robin: Mother confirms it is a true story. I do not know whether he is a true immortal or not. However, I do know that his ancestors or maybe even him, is good enough to beat grandfather even if he has backup.

Red Hood: What about the other tales?

Robin: There is nothing of note. Some mention of the immortal's supernatural ability, like summoning the dead or the ability to move mountains and divert rivers.

Red Robin: That is not something to take note of?

Robin: No. Because in those stories, the only consistent thing about him is that he is kind. Never harm someone unless provoked.

Batman: Compile all the tales into a file. Red Robin, lists out all the possible powers of target.

Oracle: Oh wow. My date is now a target. How could this get better?

Red Hood: If he is really dangerous, I volunteer to stalk monitor them while they are on the date.

Oracle & Batman: No!

Red Hood: Tsk! Party pooper.

Batman: Red Robin and Spoiler, follow them. Priority is keeping Oracle safe.

Red Robin & Spoiler: *High five* Let's go.

Oracle: Ugghhh, you all better don't mess with my date. Or else I'll make sure you regret it.

Part 3

[halsteadlover]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞��𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Lando Norris x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: Lando and his obsession with TikTok trends almost got him in trouble.

• Warnings: none, just few curse words I think lol.

• Word count: 776.

• A/N: I know, I know I’m just posting fics based on trends but this is the last one I promise 😭

“Got it babe? On the count of three make an ugly face.” Lando stated after setting up his phone and press record. He was standing behind you, his girlfriend, his hands resting on your shoulders as you sat while putting on your makeup.

You looked at him skeptically through the phone’s camera, with a confused look on your face. He was trying to hold back his laughter, already imagining your reaction.

“Why?”

“It’s just a game,” he replied, leaving a kiss above your hair. “Okay on my three. One, two… Baby! I said on my three!”

You frowned, continuing to look at your boyfriend through the phone and he suppressed another laugh, knowing by your face you were already getting upset even though you hadn’t said a word about it yet.

“Babe come on you can do it. Again. One… Oh c’mon why do you keep doing it before my three?!” he exclaimed and you didn’t answer again but he immediately noticed how your expression shifted from confusion to sadness, your lips slightly curved downwards.

“What?” you sadly whispered as you turned your head towards him. “What do you mean? Am I ugly?”

Lando felt his heart break at the sight of your tear-filled eyes as you looked at him with that broken expression, almost making him kneel on the floor. “Oh no, no, no, no, my love, oh my god,” he babbled, immediately hugging you from behind and leaving numerous kisses at the top of your head.

He pulled away after a while and turned the chair so that you were face to face with him. He knelt down and cupped your face with his hands as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. “I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me. I just wanted to make a stupid trend, please don’t cry. You’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, you’re beautiful beyond belief please… I’m so sorry.”

He kissed your forehead, then your cheeks, your lips. “Please forgive me, oh baby I love you so much. I hate seeing you like this, I hate doing this to you. I swear to god I will never follow any stupid trends again… Fucking TikTok.”

“Can you cook my favorite dish tonight please?” you asked in a low voice.

“Of course baby, yes, whatever you want, I would buy you the moon if it made you happy. Please don’t cry, I’m so sorry.”

A bright smile appeared on your lips and you kissed him. “Thank you darling, I love you so much too.”

Lando let out a sigh relieved, even though you were just making fun of him. “You little… I thought I made you cry. Don’t ever do this to me again please, I though I was having a heart attack.”

You giggled and threw your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. “I’m sorry love, but you deserved it.”

He kissed your neck. “Yeah I do… God I’m never watching TikTok again in my life.”

You laughed and he pulled away from you, cupping your face with his hands again. “You sure you’re okay? You know it was just for a video right? You’re… To say you’re breathtakingly beautiful is an understatement and I’m not even kidding. There’s no word I could use that would even begin to describe how gorgeous I think you are. You’re so fucking perfect baby and I don’t want you to doubt that for even a second.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay love,” you stroked his hair, brushing it off his forehead and smiling gently. “I was just messing with you, I know it’s just a trend since I’ve seen it a million times. I’m on social media too you know.”

He nodded. “Yeah I know, I know, I just didn’t consider the fact I could hurt your feelings and seeing you with that sad expression broke my heart, even if it was just a joke, I want to make sure you know I’m totally crazy about you and you’re perfect, okay?”

You laughed again and nodded before kissing him. “I’m really okay, I promise baby.”

“Seriously, I worship the ground you walk on, I would lick any surface you sit on, that’s how desperate I’m for you.”

“Ew Lando! You’re disgusting!” You exclaimed, loudly chuckling and playfully shoving him away, making him burst out laughing.

“Okay you’re laughing so I guess it’s really fine, but don’t think I’m joking baby,” he retorted as he stood up and stopped the recording and you fake gagged. “But what do you think about the dinner I promised you now?”

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @klovesreading, @firetruckstuckley, @23victoria, @buckybarnessweetheart, @fanaticlove16, @ajordan2020, @multi-fandom-lover7667, @emryb, @waywardhunter95, @luftmenzch

Lando Norris tag list: @halsteadbrasil, @bwormie, @sprayberrythings, @mynameisangeloflife, @lunepoesie, @earlgreyflowers, @bubu40777168, @hiireadstuff, @lilithhs-world, @yujnrq, @bountychanti, @aurora-maria, @decafmickey, @hallo2308

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[flowerisevil]

Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen reader where she is Rhaenyra’s sister and daughter of Viserys and Aemma, she is pregnant when they visit King’s Landing and she has the baby so Alicent calls her as she does with Rhaenyra and Gwayne gets furious about it even more when Alicent insinuates that their son is not Targaryen so from then on he is team black.

Devotion

Gwayne Hightower X female reader Targaryen

A/N: I hope its okay that I use an original female character and i don't if i understand your request right but yeah here it is I hope you enjoy. Happy reading mwa!

Disclaimer: grammatical/typographical errors ahead, englisn is not my first language.

Warning: mention of blood, child birth, cursing, and no use of Y/N. Please tell me if I miss anything.

//

The married couple returned in Kings Landing from Oldtown for the King's funeral, the second born princess Targaryen along side her husband and her growing belly arrived at King's Landing, the princess was expecting to see her elder sister Rhaenyra only to hear that she had already departed with her family to Dragonstone.

"Your sister s-she is rather not very pleased to be here" the Queen explained of her sister's departure with her new husband Daemon.

"How is your pregnancy daughter?" Alicent asked, changing the topic.

The princess rub her belly as she smiled "It is great though a bit struggle happens"

Gwayne her husband held her hand that was caressing her stomach, as he joined their conversation "My wife pregnancy is very delicate, it is her first pregnancy and the maesters said her body needs a lot of rest"

Otto nodded in acknowledgement "I am happy for the both of you, you seem to grow fond of each other"

The couple smiled, they did indeed. "We truly did and Daeron in Oldtown is one of our witnesses" Gwayne chuckles, the poor boy was tired seeing the two couple always on each other like what a newlywed partners would do.

Alicent sighs at the mention of her youngest son "and how is he? Daeron?"

"He is doing good, a boy full of wit, a good sword fighter" the princess explained ".....he is very kind your grace, a soft hearted child, his heart has a space for animals" she added, her youngest half brother was a great boy, far away from them. He is a chivalrous boy.

"I should talk to the both of you outside, may I?" Alicent turned to them, the couple simply nodded as all of them walked outside the chamber.

"I wish for your wife to give birth here in Red Keep" Alicent said, the princess frowned but before she could give reaction her husband spoke first.

"I wish my child to be born in Oldtown, why you must decision for that?"

Alicent looks resigned to her brother's fire backs.

"It is an order from your Queen" was all the Queen say before she entered the room, shutting the door before them.

Gwayne's clenched fist softened as she caress it. "We shall give it to them for now Gwayne, there's nothing we could lose for giving them a small favor"

Gwayne rolled his eyes "Oh please that is my sister, and I am a Hightower I know how one thinks"

Gwayne was never unknown to the small resentment his sister Queen had for his wife, even before Alicent was a young lady she had always envied the younger princess, the princess was smarter, kind, beautiful, she was like a glowing light walking through the halls of the Keep, everyone pleased her, and when she was on the right age for marriage she was married to him, the heir to Oldtown and a knight. She had the life his sister was deprived of.

And he knew Alicent has some plans behind this little show of hers.

And he was not wrong.

His wife give her the favor, she gave birth between the walls of Red Keep, her screams and groaned echoed all over the Keep, they can hear her dragon Silverwing roaring for her rider.

"Lord Gwayne you shall not enter, you should be somewhere else or perhaps on the training grou-" the servants shuts when his collar was tigtly gripped.

His wife birth was no jest, the Maesters had informed them before her birth that her body was weak, and she might be carrying a boy for having such a hard labor.

"Don't you understand my wife's condition? She needs me, let me in" Gwayne scowled but his request was denied as the servants pulled him away from the room.

One of the Maesters came out, his face full of worry "My Lord, the princess"

"How is my wife?"

"The princess...she is trying her best my Lord but I must be honest with you, I have both a good and bad message to deliver" the Maester exhales before he continued. "The good one is that the princess is able to push half of the babe's body"

Gwayne wanted to smile, he will finally have an heir and child that he had hope would taken the look after his beautiful wife but knowing that the news has a bad new to come, he can't help but worry for his princess.

"And what is the other one?"

"The babe was rather in an unfortunate position, in birth the head of the babe should be the first thing to come out but in her condition it is unfortunately the other way around"

"You mean my baby's head is still stuck inside of her?"

The Maester nodded "and it is quite dangerous my Lord, we might lose the babe"

Gwayne nodded but frustration covered his face, what would happen to his wife and child?

"Unless my Lord you wish to cut open the princess to save-" the Maester wasn't able to finish his words as he stumble on the ground from Gwayne's singld punch.

"You will do no such thing, what you will do is save my wife from that horrible state whatever it takes, my wife shall come out of that room fine and alive, you hear me?" He command, his knuckled has some blood stained from punching the man.

The Maester nodded and walked back inside the room, Gwayne sat on the cold floor, they will have to save his wife one way or another.

"Your father wish to see you Ser Gwayne" one of the guard approached him and spoke.

"I do not wish to leave my wif-"

"The Lord Hand wants me to tell you it is urgent" the guard continued, Gwayne groaned out of frustration, slowly standing up and walked to his father's office.

On the other hand the princess was lie down on the bed, blood was everywhere.

"Your grace, another push please you are doing well" one of the midwives encourage. Another scream filled the room, stained tears on her cheeks.

The nursemaid and midwives encourage her more, as she continued pushing out the babe inside her, her situation was hard to watch, as they looked at her filled with concern for the princess, she looked tired and breathless. Some of her handmaidens that was present was tearing seeing their princess crying out from pain.

Another scream filled the room once again.

"It is a boy!" The Maester finally announced. Holding a baby boy on its hands, the room filled with cheer as they ran to the princess, immediately handing her help, some wash their sweat, some clean her up.

She smiled as she saw her son being washed and wrapped, she was still shaking but she insisted to hold her child. A boy...an heir for her husband.

The cheering stop as they all looked at the door opening revealing a concerned servant "M-my princess...the Queen s-she uh"

"What of the Queen? Speak clearly"

"She said that she wish to see her grandchild, and you aswell, she wish for you to deliver her grandchild to her" the servants finished, murmurs, shock gaps and whispers filled the room, looking concerned for the princess.

The princess sigh, so this why she wants her to stay here? To have something to play with?

She stood up, legs shaking, her whole was is shaking rather, the nursemaids guide her to carry her newborn son.

"Princess....you're body is still trembling, you shall not walked around the castle or els-"

"Who are we to deprive the Queen a sight of her grandchild" she smiled weakly, as she embrace her son and start walking through the Halls, her whole full of sweat and blood still dripping on her legs.

The news arrived Gwayne's ear, one of his men bargen inside his father's office sending the news of his wife's succesful delivery, Gwayne stood up and left the room fast, his knight walk fast closely to him.

"But my Lord the princess has already left her delivery room, the servants said she immediately left as soon as she gave birth" his man informed.

Gwayne stopped his footsteps.

"They said her Grace had asked for your wife's immediate presence after her birth"

That mad woman. Gwayne was so done of his sister, she is nothing but a horrible Queen, he let her and their father do whatever they have wanted in this castle, corrupting the King, ruining the life of his wife's older sister but he would not let him take advantage of his wife's kind nature.

Gwayne ran as soon as he saw her walking through the halls, his mouth opened but no words came out as he saw her state. Trembling, body covered of sweats and bloodstains, her dress was not very appropriate to see, and his fist clenched as he saw the path of blood dropping from her legs as she walk. Was this is the sigh his Queen sister wish to see?

She wasn't suppose to even raise a finger after her horrifying birth but now she is walking around carrying their babe. He ran to them and cautiously held her back.

"My wife, where are you going?" He tried to sound calm to not show any hint of frustration and anger on his voice.

"Oh ask your dear sister, my love s-she wish to see our child" her voice was hoarse it sounded to frail almost like a whisper from all the screaming she made.

His jaw clenched, he looked at his men and ordered him to bring a nursemaid as soon as the nurse came he told her to carry their child inside the room.

"Gwayne but the Queen-"

"I would have the talk with her, you shall not worry she will be able to see our child when the right time has come, and that right time is when you finally have a rest and sleep" his voice was soft but full of authority, he slowly lower himself to carry her in bridal style.

His eyes cannot lie and his wife can see it, she see right through him. The anger she can almost see what she is plotting inside his head.

The princess lean on his chest. "Do not let anger took over you Gwayne, talk to her nicely"

Oh he would definitely do have a nice talk with his cunt sister.

"Please Gwayne, I would not wish you to be in trouble"

"She took advantage of you darling, how do you wish me to react when I see you trembling as blood drip from your legs walking through this long fucking halls of castle nothing but fragile? Do you wish for me to celebrate?" Gwayne sarcastically spoke, he hated her wife for being a too much proper but he also loved her the same way.

"I kinda wish you do, I gave you a boy. An heir" she smiled, her eyes sparkles as she look over the maid who was carrying their child, Gwayne smiled looking over the babe.

"I am happy more than happy actually, but I would not want to put you in that situation again"

"It is normal state they said"

"Still I would not want to risk you again, I am happy with you no matter with heir or none but now I have a young version of you, I would have more very reason to go home and wake up everyday"

She was his life, she made him whole, losing her would be a big tragedy to him, the day he vowed to her that he will love her with all he can offer, he did not just love her, he stayed and place his faithfulness to her.

As he slowly placed his wife om their chamber, he send her handmaidens and Maester to look after her, clean her and check if she need something to be mend.

He barged inside the council room knowing they will be their, the members looked at him, Otto spoke first breaking the silence.

"My son, as far as I remember you do not have a seat in this room to attend to"

Gwayne scoffs, as he eyed for his sister. "Is this your plan? Why you wanted my wife to give birth here? To make her suffer?"

"It is the King's dying wish"

"Oh I believe is it? Just like how his dying wish is to fucking crown Aegon as his heir, despite your son being brainless smug"

"To say that such thing to the prince is treason, what is it that makes you so angry Gwayne?" Otto tap his son shoulder but he immediately pull back.

"Your Queen, made my wife walk through the halls right after she gave birth to our child, have I not told you that her pregnancy is risky? Yet you made her walk instead of giving her the time to regain her energy"

Alicent snapped a look at him, the two children of Otto Hightower faced each other. "I wish to not harm her, I simply wish to see her and my grandchil-"

"Is that really it? Or perhaps you are so envious of seeing my wife live the life you wished you had?"

A deafening silence filled them, the members each switch looks between the Queen and Gwayne Hightower.

"You shall not touch my wife anymore and so is our child, we will leave here as soon as she recover" Gwayne discussed. Otto approached his son.

"What about your army? we need them incase Rhaenyra declares war after we declare Aegon as King" Otto explained.

Gwayne chuckles, the audacity of his father to think that he will give him his army.

He did not answer them instead walked out the room, he will make sure what they did to the princess will be delivered to the future Queen Rhaenyra.

//

She arrived at the chamber, she was welcomed by the sight of his beautiful wife holding their child, he slowly walked to them sitting on the edge of bed beside his wife.

"We will leave here tomorrow, I can and will not go another days with those cunts around you and our son" Gwayne spoke, caressing his wife's silver white hair, he sighed as he continued to reveal another thing.

"They plan to make Aegon King"

The princess turned her face to him, her face was confused hoping she heard him wrong.

"They know Rhaenyra is the heir, the future Queen of the realm our father made it known before he died, he declared her as his heir" she explained, she and Gwayne were both there as she was declared the rightful heir to the throne.

"I know but those two said it was the dying King's wish, I do not believe."

"We shall go to Dragonstone and send words to Rhaenyra..." She trailed, something in her was nervous what if Gwayne would not side with her?

"Yes we must, as soon as possible my love and make it clear to your sister that we bend our knee for her" Gwayne leaned his forehead to hers, his gaze moves to their son.

The boy had her eyes, lilac gaze, he had his nose and lips.

This is all what Gwayne had asked and wished when he married his wife, a whole family but with the upcoming war he knows they will have to be extra careful.

He will bent the knee for Rhaenyra but his wife and son's safety would remain a top of his list.

[blueheron15]

TOO SOON TO TELL YOU I LOVE YOU

pairing: jj x fem!routledge!reader

summary: jj navigating his childhood and adolescence while seeing john b as a brother, but y/n as something… more.

warnings: flangst, suggested smut

a/n: wow this was longer than i thought it was gonna be and thats why i am edging yall with the ending... THERE WILL BE A PART TWO

jj and john b had been brothers since third grade. it was common knowledge for everyone on the island. don't cross john b unless you wanted to deal with jj, too, or vice versa. it was a well-known fact.

they began playing together at recess, and soon, john b came back home talking about his new friend. he would eventually begin bringing two lunches to school with him so jj could actually eat.

the first time they hung out outside of school, they went fishing off of the ocean at the chateau. they were called inside for lunch by the ringing of a bell.

"wut was that?" jj asked in his southern drawl, toothless mouth quirking in confusion as he dropped a minnow back into the water.

"my daddy's callin' us back for lunch." john b explained, beginning to pull up the anchor of the johnboat.

"is your daddy nice?" jj asked, helping his friend gather the ropes.

"he's just a normal dad." john b shrugged, adjusting his hat before starting the motor.

"my dad hates me." jj explained, as if it were a simple fact of life. he sat down.

"well, i think mine'll like you."

from that day on, jj had practically been adopted into the routledge family. the littlest sibling, y/n routledge, was only five when they met, and was relatively closed off at first. while the four of them ate at the table that day, big john had shown an affection towards his son and jj, but made no effort to include his daughter in the conversation.

the age gap, which seemed significant at first, slowly dwindled away as john b's friend group expanded to the rest of the pogues. y/n hung out with them sometimes, too.

jj had always thought she was nice, and he enjoyed getting a rise out of her, but his best friend for life was her brother. that's who he was looking for on the night he happened to fall in love with her.

y/n was 12, and jj was 14. he knew john b was at a small party kiara was throwing (a farewell party to kildare high school, if you will), but he was hoping he would be back by one am. jj stumbled into the chateau, tripping over the step into the house.

"shit!" he cursed, his already bruised cheek making contact with the dusty hardwood floor. "ugghhhh" he groaned, slowly hoisting himself up.

"jj?" he heard a voice mumble.

his head snapped up, finding y/n standing in the kitchen. suddenly, his cheeks flushed as he looked at his star wars pajama pants, embarrassed that she was seeing him like this. "uh, yeah." he cleared his throat, taking a step further into the dimly lit house. "hey, y/n."

he could have sworn he heard her sniffle, but she too took a step forward, flicking on the living room light.

"isn't it passed your bedtime?" jj asked, at the same time y/n said "what happened to you?"

his hand made it's way to the back of his neck, scratching. "nuthing." he said dismissively. "just got inta an argument with my old man."

her face contorted into a frown, walking up to him and grabbing his arm. as she lead him into the bathroom, he had a strange thought that she looked adorable in her polka dot pajama pants and one of pope's old t shirts.

"why'd he do this to you?" she asked softly, grabbing disinfecting ointment from the cabinet. "sit on the toilet so i can clean you up."

jj rolled his eyes, deflecting. "i dont need you to clean me up. was lookin' for your brother anyway."

"well," she started, confirming his previous thought. "john b's not here, and neither is my dad cuz he never is, and in case you didn't know, it's been 10 years since my mama left, and i'm all alone, and i'd really not like to be alone right now so could you please just sit?"

she finished her rant with a stray tear leaking down her cheek, a red face, and a huff of air. jj tried not to let his grin show. they way she got so flustered, the way she annunciated each word, made his heart flutter despite the heaviness of the situation. "hold your horses, i'll stay." he said, raising his hands up in surrender.

he sat down on the toilet lid as she tended to his busted lip, cut under eye, and bruised cheek. she worked in silence for a little while.

"he did this to me cuz im a piece of shit." he eventually muttered.

"you're not." she insisted, shaking her head.

"you only think that because i'm john b's friend." he scoffed. "maybe he's right, anyway. he caught me stealin from the gas station. maybe i deserved this."

she looked at him. jesus, jj thought, when did her eyes become so... pretty? "you didn't think we're friends?"

jj looked down at the floor, before bashfully meeting her gaze. "guess we are now."

jj slept over, obviously, and they sat together on the couch as she showed him the only existing photo of her and her mother.

"i wonder if she would like me if she knew me now." y/n thought out loud.

jj took it upon himself to use humor to make her feel better. "pretend im your mom." he shrugged.

"what?" she squeaked, looking at him like he was crazy.

he cleared his throat before raising it an octave to make him sound like a woman. "oh, y/n!" he exclaimed, grabbing the ends of her hair. "my daughter, you're sooo beautiful!"

"ew!" she she giggled as jj got closer and closer to her. "get off me jj!" she laughed, playfully shoving him away.

"you don't want some lovin' from your mama?" he teased, still in a girly voice.

she kicked him gently, squealing in delight at his antics. "you're not my mama!" she insisted.

they began wrestling playfully, jj pushing her so she was laying on the couch, pinning her down. and, when john b walked in, he thought it was nothing more than some classic routledge and maybank sibling bonding.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

from that moment on, there was an undeniable shift between the two of them. somehow, y/n had gone from nice, to adorable, to pretty at her thirteenth birthday party. the pogues and some of her girlfriends from school had been invited to the chill hang out at the chateau.

she was talking to some of her other friends, in a lovely white sundress and brown cow boy boots, when jj nearly choked on the vodka he had added into his lemonade.

"i never realized how pretty y/n was." pope commented, swinging on the hammock.

"what?!" jj shrieked, spitting out his drink.

"ew, dude." kiara said, rolling her eyes.

"don't you think she looks nice?" pope inquired.

"uh, well, i mean, um" jj stuttered. "what?"

"that's all i'm sayin, dude. y/n is-"

"y/n is what?" john b asked, joining them.

"pope's got a lil crush." kie said, smirking.

"t-this is outrageous!" jj exclaimed.

"why do you even care?" asked kie.

"b-because-"

"obviously because she's like a sister to him and it's gross." john b explained, rolling his eyes. "new rule. no macking on my sister."

"you got that pope?" jj asked seriously, pointing an accusatory finger.

"i wasn't planning on macking on her!" pope cried, defending himself.

jj huffed. "good." he muttered under his breath. he definitely did think pope macking on y/n would be gross. but not for the reason john b had said. something stirred within his chest. it was a gross, green feeling.

...was he jealous?

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

when jj was sixteen and when y/n was fourteen, the "no macking on y/n" rule had been transformed into the "no pogue on pogue macking" rule. this was due to both y/n and kiara being mature enough to wear bikinis. like, proper bikinis.

it was the first day of summer break. kiara was back from the kook academy, jj didn't have to deal with fucking geometry anymore, he snuck off the previous night with some touron older girl and had his first time behind a tree, and holy hell life was good. the pogues joined some other students at the beach for surfing and a bonfire.

but his eyes were on y/n.

shit, was he a pervert? after all, she was only 14, and one of his best friends. she came fishing with him and john b even though she didn’t particularly enjoy the activity. they were constantly play wrestling, or giving each other sea shells as little gifts. and, jj constantly called her mama, much to john b’s demise. it was one of their inside jokes.

she had just looked so good in her blue bikini and she was actually growing boobs. as jj sat on the sand, watching her surf, he barely noticed kiara and another girl approach him.

“hey, j!” kie called.

“‘sup?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of y/n. she was an amazing surfer, but he was ready to jump into action if she happened to wipe out.

“this is lacy.” kiara said, motioning to the girl next to him. she had a nice rack and a sexy body, with beautiful blonde hair. “i went to the look academy with her.”

“oh?” jj said, raising a brow. “a kook, huh? watchu doin’ on this side of the island, princess?” he shamelessly flirted. kie rolled her eyes in disgust, but lacy placed her palm against a tree, leaning in seductively.

“everyone on figure eight thinks they’re too proper to have fun for a night.” she shrugged.

jj grinned. he was catching her drift, alright.

he brought her back to chateau and fucked her good. well, at least he tried to. but with the image of y/n in his mind, he came in like 15 seconds. he made it up to her by eating her out, which was divine, pleasing her in the way he believed every woman should be.

lacy left, and after jj cleaned himself up and put on a fresh pair of boxers and gray sweatpants, he exited big john’s room, which was now practically his after the man’s disappearance, to get a drink.

he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw y/n sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. she gave him a knowing look, rolling her eyes as the tears fell.

“shit.” he cursed, walking up to her. “uh. you heard that?”

she scoffed. “everyone heard it. i don’t care about that, though. it’s just… i… do you think i’m pretty, jj?”

“what’re you talkin about?”

she hiccuped. “am i pretty?” she repeated. he let out a breath. shit, how was he supposed to answer that? hell yeah, she was pretty. but she took his silence as a no. “i know i’m not. but it’s not fair that everyone sees me as just some little kid.” she explained. “none of the guys in my grade want to date me. i h-haven’t even kissed anybody yet, and you guys are all having sex, and it’s not fair!”

he tentatively sat down on a stool next to her. “you’re still young.”

“so that means i’m ugly?” she retorted.

“i think yer the prettiest girl on this whole damn island.” jj explained. he was so vulnerable, wide blue eyes staring into hers.

“… you do?”

“i do.” he said softly, nodding. he extended a hand, tucking a stray frizzy and sun dried lock of hair behind her hair. “i really do, mama.” he wondered out loud.

“well…” her heart was beating out of her chest as she took in a shaky breath. “thank you.” she grinned cheekily, cheeks beat red.

“you’re welcome.” he said, tailing a finger down her cheek before going to get up.

“wait” she said in a distressed tone. she grabbed his arm, stood up, and quickly pulled him foreword, pressing her lips to his.

it barely lasted two seconds, and jj didn’t even have time to close his eyes before y/n was pulling away.

she stepped back, staring at him. he brought a hand up to ghost over his lips. he had never felt so much electricity. his lips were literally buzzing.

“kie told me her first kiss made her want to puke.” y/n stated. “um. are all first kisses supposed to be that good?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“uh.” he said, voice hoarse. “mine sure as hell wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“yeah… oh.”

“okay. um, g’night jay!” she squeaked, retreating into her room.

jj was doomed.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

y/n routledge had ruined every other girl for jj. he was absolutely besotted with her.

but, the problem was, he couldn't have her. john b would forbid it.

"it's just like, fuckin gross, man!" john b complained, laying on the hammock as he mindlessly threw a hackey sack in the air, catching it. "like, i don't wanna see you macking on my little sister, sorry."

"she's her own person, man." jj said, waxing his board. "just let her be."

"he's a douche." john b insisted. he wasn't very fond of y/n's first ever boyfriend. "she's only 15, why does she even need a boyfriend?"

"i got a feelin' you'll hate anyone she dates." jj replied with an eye roll.

"probably." john b cringed.

jj fought back a shudder. would he hate me if i dated her?

suddenly, y/n came speeding around the corner on her bike, pushing it to the ground and ditching it, sprinting into the house.

"what the hell?" jj asked. him and john b were immediately following her inside.

"y/n?" john b asked, swiftly approaching her. "what's wrong?"

she stood in the middle of the living room, her body wracking with sobs. "h-he... he..." she couldn't even get the words out as she covered her hand with her mouth.

"did he hurt you? what's happenin?" jj asked, concerned. he placed a hand on each of her shoulders, craning his neck down so they were at eye level with each other.

her lips quivered as she sighed, and jj's heart broke.

"he broke up w-with me." she finally managed to get out.

jj recoiled, and him and john b shared a look.

"he's dead."

that night, after the three of them laid together in bed (a y/n sandwich, with her in the middle of the two boys) and did all the girly post break up shit u see in movies together, it was nearing two am when they decided to call it a night.

jj sat on the edge of her bed for a little while, watching her tuck herself in tight underneath the covers.

"you gonna be okay?" he asked.

she hiked up a shoulder. "i'm gonna have to be."

a beat of silence passed. "he's a fuckin idiot for fumbling you." she snorted. "it's true!" jj insisted, his voice growing higher in insistence.

y/n smiled sadly. "thanks, jay."

he gave her a solute. "well, goodnight, mama." he went to get up, but she reached out.

"wait. um. i don't really wanna be alone tonight."

"oh. you want me to get jb, or...?"

in a small and vulnerable voice, she asked. "can you stay?"

"uh, y/n, im not sure how good of an-" he protested, running a hand through his messy blonde locks.

"please, jj." she begged, her voice cracking.

jj didn't stand a chance. "you know i can't say no to you." he whispered, a soft smile on his face.

y/n reached behind her, grabbing an extra pillow and handing it to him. he grabbed the extra blanket on the edge of her bed, getting comfortable on the floor.

they laid in silence for a few moments, just listening to the hum of the crickets and the crashing of the waves in the distance. jj was 99% sure she was asleep, and moved to get up, when she finally spoke.

"he broke up with me because he kept trying to force me to have sex but i didn't want to." she confessed, her words awkwardly cutting through the silence.

"are you fucking kidding me?" jj asked, disgusted.

"please don't kill him." she sighed.

"please don't kill him," jj repeated, mocking her tone. "nah, fuck that. what's this guys address? i swear, i'm gonna-"

"you're gonna do what, jj?" she retorted.

"egg his house, slash his tires, beat him up, i don't know! the point is, that was a dick move. and that's not okay to do. especially to you. cuz your-"

he stopped himself. in the midst of their heated conversation, they had both propped themselves up on their elbows, y/n looking down at jj and him looking up at her. they lowered themselves back down in to a recumbent position.

"i'm what?" y/n whispered.

jj thought for a moment. you’re my girl. you’re so incredibly special. that’s what his mind was thinking. but he couldn’t say that. could he?

“because you’re like a sister to me.” he choked out. he didn’t sound believable at all.

“am i really though?” she pressed.

jj wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. “we can’t, y/n.” he forced himself to say.

“…i know.” she conceded. “but maybe…” she thought out loud. she let a hand dangle down, off the edge of the bed. “friends can hold hands, right?”

he intertwined their fingers together, holding his arm up for her. “yeah. they can.”

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

jj and y/n continued to find loopholes in order to be able to act on some of their feelings while not making it obvious for john b.

friends kissed each others cheeks. friends took naps together, bodies intertwined in the hammocks. friends got jealous of flirting. friends called each other nick names like “mama” or “baby” or “bub.”

right?

y/n was providing light in jj’s fucked up life, which become increasingly worse with this search for gold.

jj knew that y/n was having a hard time with her brother following in her fathers footsteps. this made them grow closer, as the barrier that was john b was less and less present, constantly on the go or with sarah cameron.

for fucks sake, they were held at gun point today by barry, who jj knew bc he used to sell coke to his dad.

who, speaking of which, beat him to shit. jj didn’t know how to deal with everything and so he bought a hot tub.

he couldn’t be bothered at pope and kie lecturing him. he couldn’t be bothered that he blew the money. but when y/n stepped inside the hot tub upon seeing the bruises on his abdomen, holding him tight against her chest and stroking his hair, he finally broke down.

he allowed her to dry him off and get him into some clothes. they lay together in her room, this time, both together on her bed as jj needed the physical affection.

he was practically on top of her, his face nuzzled into her neck, but she didn’t mind. she ran her fingers through his hair and up and down his back, to the point where he was practically purring and melting completely into her, mending their bodies together as one.

he was never so vulnerable, not with anyone else.

“thank you,” he croaked out. “for dealing with me.”

“hey.” she gently reprimanded. “don’t say it like it’s some kind of chore. i want to be able to help you, bub. we all do.”

he nodded, to tired to put up a fight. “only want your help tho.”

she smiled into his temple. “i feel like you’re the only person who actually gets me.“ she admitted.

“me too.”

that morning, upon waking up, the two of them had shifted to jj spooning her from behind, holding on tightly. and y/n didn’t mind one bit.

“morning,” she whispered sleepily, intertwining their legs together.

he groaned, stretching his legs out, but not separating them from hers. “mornin’”

“i gotta show ya somethin” he said after a few minutes of laying there admiring y/n. she looked so serene and peaceful in his arms, the sunlight streaming in from the windows and making her look like an angel.

“uh oh what did you steal?” she joked.

“i didn’t steal anything.” he said with an eye roll, sitting up and walking out of the room momentarily. he returned with something shiny in his hands. “i got u somethin when i splurged on the hot tub.”

“jj” she gently chided, propping herself up on her elbows.

“it’s fine.” he protested. “everyone knows the cats ass is dope as fuck. here.”

he held out a gold chain with a small j on it.

y/n held it in her hands, smiling down at it, then looking up at him.

“j as in…” she trailed off, smirking. “jj?”

he nodded and unspoken words passed between them. he put in on her neck, and she thought to herself that she would never take it off.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

the night of john b and sarah’s “death” was the best and worst night of y/n and jj’s lives.

“we… we lost em.” shoupe said, his words echoed by the booming thunder. “i’m sorry.”

“you lost them? what do you mean you lost them? like they’re gone? what are you talking about?” pope tried to frantically clarify.

jj’s jaw clenched. kiara’s face dropped. and y/n just stood there, numb as her heart plummeted into a deep abyss.

“they took an open boat into a tropical depression, pope.” the officer explained.

“so they’re dead?” kie asked.

“we don’t know.” said shoupe.

jj’s anger took over. “you drove em straight into the storm, man! are you kidding me?! come here!” he growled, pummeling shoupe.

“jj, stop!” kiara cried.

“get over here! i’m gonna kill you you bastard! you killed them!” he said, trying to fight off the other cops who were restraining him.

pope tried to reason with shoupe, and kiara was begging for it all to stop.

everything was going in slow motion for y/n. her brother… her brother was dead. there was no way he and sarah could have made it through that storm.

as kiara’s parents enveloped her into a hug, and as pope’s parents came in, extremely worried for their son and his friends, jj and y/n made eye contact.

all they had left was each other.

jj calmed down, and when he ripped himself out of the police’s grip, he walked toward y/n who ran and jumped up into his arms. he held her tight, silent tears running down his cheeks as she wailed.

“no, no!” she whimpered, clinging to jj as if they were the last two people on earth.

“i know baby.” he tried to comfort. “i know.”

they found themselves in the porch the chateau, each sitting on an opposite end of the couch, staring outside. jj was smoking his weed and y/n took the occasion puff.

both of their voices were hoarse and eyes were puffy from crying.

“what am i gonna do?” she wondered, voice cracking. “you can’t let them take me away, jj. y-you can’t.”

“and i won’t.” he promised. “i swear. no one is gonna take you, or hurt you. ever. okay? if they do it’s gonna be over my dead body.”

he scooted closer towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him.

“my brother.” jj said solemnly, shaking his head and exhaling a puff of weed. “john b was, is, my brother. i don’t know, man… do you think he’s really dead?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything anymore.” she whispered.

“well, there’s one thing i do know.” he said. “with everything happening… shit, who knows? who knows what’ll happen to us? i just… i-i gotta tell ya… john b may be like a brother to me, but you were never like a sister to me.”

with wide eyes, she turned her head towards him. “jj… what are you saying?”

“i’m sayin that… y/n i’ve never seen you as just jb’s lil sister. i’ve always seen you as- as you. you know i’m not good at expressing my feelings.” he took a deep breath, nervous. but he looked into her eyes. “but i want to try.”

she smiled, for the first time all night.

“you’re cute, but somehow sexy at the same time. you make me wanna actually open up to you, and be vulnerable, and be better. a-and, you’re so fucking funny too, dude. i know you’ve always struggled with separating yourself from your dad and john b. and maybe sometimes you think that nobody notices you. but y/n, you’re all i notice. you’re everywhere, all the time, and it’s so scary. but… what’s scarier is the fact that i could lose you like john b and you would always think i saw you as a little sister.”

she snorted at that through the tears. she was rendered speechless.

jj let out a shaky breath. she closed the small distance between the two of them, straddling his hips as they kissed with the taste of weed, perfume, and salty tears invading their senses.

they kept crying hard, but kept kissing harder.

“i love you.” jj said. and once it left his lips, it’s like the damn burst. “fuck i love you so much y/n. i love you so much. we’re gonna be okay. i got you. i got you, mama.”

“i love you” she said, nodding her head. “i love you too, jj.”

so it was safe to say that jj loved each of the routledge siblings.

but y/n?

that was his girl. his person.

(and, when john b came back from the dead, he’d be grossed out to see jj and his little sister macking. but he knew jj would do anything for her.

so, when y/n routledge became y/n maybank a few years later, john b and jj would actually be brothers.)

it was always gonna be P4L, but it was routledge and maybank first.

he used a hand to hold her back, gently flipping them over so that he was hovering on top of her, his beautiful biceps caging her in.

he slid his tongue over her bottom lip and she granted him entrance as they made out. wanting, needing to be closer, she hooked her ankles around his lower back, arching into him and feeling his erection.

"fuck" he panted. he trailed his kisses lower, nipping her ear lobe, sucking on her neck.

"mm r-remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me?" she said through whimpers. "i didn't wanna have sex with him. n-not because i wasn't ready, but because... i always wanted it to be you."

he let out a groan. "jesus, y/n..." he detached his lips from her neck, loving the hickey that had formed there.

"jj... please. i need you." she said, tears staining her cheeks.

he kissed them away. "i need you too, mama." he breathed. they looked into each other's eyes. "ive never needed anyone so bad. all those other girls... they were to distract me from you because i never thought this would happen."

"john b made it a rule to not mack on you." he continued.

she smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a sob at the mention of her brother.

"let me take care of you.. i can't stand to see you hurtin like this."

"please" she whimpered.

and so, she let her legs fall to each side of jj's torso, and he began shimmying down her shorts...

taglist:

@4jjsbank @mkcolon1 @agnxstic @groovypeanutoperatorzonk @starsval @sollamimi @obxcc @onelonelybitch @tv-girllover07

[tales-from-the-aether-ttrpg]

Something thats always bugged me about dnd and pathfinder’s gods is that… they are basically monotheism in polytheism wrapping AND there is no actual religion present. The lore is so obsessed with these beings as people with their extensive histories and active presence in the setting that they completely forgot to actually create religions surrounding them.

What does casual worship look like for any of these gods? Could you tell me? What does prayer actually look like? Is there specific times of the day in which you must pray for certain gods? Is there certain attire you must wear to show your faith? Are there certain foods you cannot eat? Are there certain foods that are elevated above the rest for your faith? What kind of offerings are expected everyday? Do they expect offerings everyday or on a certain day of the week? Do they expect physical offerings at all? Do they ask for sacrifices of material goods, animals, people? Why? Why do you worship this deity? How does that actually affect ur daily life? How is worship different for a cleric, paladin, priest, or casual believer? What kinds of swears, curses, exclamations, etc are associated with this religion? Are there certain activities that are banned within your religion? How strictly does the religion police its worshiper’s actions? What kind of philosophies do they preach or disavow?

These and many more are the elements that form real world religions and are absent in most fantasy “religions” including popular ttrpgs. I cant even call these faiths religions because they really arent. One god in these settings should have 20 different religions built around them that all disagree on how the god’s domain, history, and personality should be interpreted. Maybe 2 or 4 of them would be main stream but there should be more than just one monolithic faith surrounding a god. And stop calling it polytheism. Please for the love of everything. Polytheism is a type of religion that worships multiple gods at once. Faith in dnd and pathfinder is largely monotheistic because the players choose one god they like and ignore all the rest.

I am not trying to put the responsibility of creating all these religions on gms - im pointing out that the creators of these ttrpgs did all of us a huge disservice. Religion is such an expansive and fascinating and diverse concept in the real world that it infuriates me to see it reduced to choosing a god you like and thats it. And im agnostic irl!

I was talking to my cowriter about this for the lore in my ttrpg and it got me really rilled up XD Religion can be beautiful or terrible or a mixture of both. It can save people from the world’s darkness or bring out their own inner darkness. It deserves more than a cliff-notes table of deities to choose from and half baked lore about the gods without examining the actual faith they inspire in others :/

[justwonder113]

Han drunkenly confessing to you

Inspired by this ask

Summary: When Chan calls you at 2 am to pick up drunk han because he is asking for you the last thing you expect is for Han to confess his love for you. warnings: CHAOS! Idiots to lovers, (Both reader and Han(mostly Han) are idiots.) Reader is gender neutral. Cursing to no one's surprise. Kissing. Han being somewhat drunk. Teensy tiny amount of angst. Reader almost having a mental breakdown from all the chaos. Somewhat proofread. let me know if I missed anything A/N- Happy new year lovelies! I wish you all the best! Please take care of yourselves and drink lot's of water. Thank you all for all the love and support you have given me, it really means a lot to me. Word count- 2.4 k

Masterlist

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

You know how people put most bizarre things in their resumes? Like stuff they only did once and they wrote it down like they had some kind of PhD in that field? Well next time you if you decided to change jobs or just apply to a new one you would write down that you had an experience and could deal with being friends with Han Fucking Jisung! That is if he survived this day. Because what do you mean you were heading out to get his drunk ass home because this grown ass man was actually crying and asking for you in the damn club at two fucking am! You were so beating his ass once he got sober.

You were seeing such a great dream too. You and Han were actually together and didn’t have this weird ass relationship you two had right now where there were no literal boundaries and you didn’t have to question every day If he was returning the feelings or if you were delusional and he was just extra friendly and overall simply comfortable with you. He was quite touchy and flirty with boys too after all. So you could imagine how much headache this could bring in.

 Anyway, to stop with your let’s just say unfortunate love life and get to the point you were pissed. You really were looking forward after a shitty week sleeping in and actually resting. That’s why you didn’t go to the club with the boys in the first place. How much did he actually drink to be actually crying and asking for you? What was he, a toddler asking for his mommy? Or better yet what was up with you being actually in love with this man?

The club was quite crowded for 2 am. The neon lights of reds blues and greens kept flashing rhythmically. The shouts of laughter and the hum of conversation mixed with the music creating a bit of chaos but well it was a normal atmosphere for a club. As soon as you walked in the smell of cocktails mixed with perfume and sweat of the crowd immediately hit you. It was a bit headache inducing but it was tolerable, as long as you left soon. You started searching for your friends with your eyes which was quite hard at first the crowd really kept shifting and mingling with each other. People really looked like they were having time of their life and you, with the, I just woke up and I’m mad as hell face, surely sticked out like a sore thumb.

Thankfully you found the boys quickly. It wasn’t hard giving they were loudest in the whole establishment as always. They were by the entrance and thankfully everyone looking ready to leave.

As for the man child who was the main reason you were here in the first place, he was clinging to Minho yapping about something. He wasn’t crying now but his eyes really looked puffy and red. Honestly how much did he drink? Others looked normal. Well tired like they were already hungover but still normal. Minho really looked like he was seconds away from smacking him. Yes smacking him, he even managed to rile Minho up. God, what a lightweight.

Han must have noticed you because one second you were looking at his face light up and him call you baby on top of his lungs and the next second he was basically on top of you. He literally hugged you witch such force it was a miracle you were standing on your feet and didn’t fall over.

“Han be careful!” You hear Chan warn him, he sounded tired.

“I’m fine.” You mustered to croak out once Han let go a bit to check if you were fine, he still returned to hugging you but at least you could breathe now. He really must have missed you. God you really wanted to kiss him. All your anger and grumpiness immediately flew out the window. Good for him he was so cute or else you would have smacked his head for bringing you here. “How are you Hannie? A little birdie told me you were asking for me.”

Han looked at you with his wide boba eyes, his lips jutted out in the cutest pout ever. “Better now that you’re here. They are literally so mean baby, I’m glad you’re here. You’re my favorite.”- Han whined out and hugged you again. You looked at others who looked so done, only Minho looked bemused, he held his phone up and recorded Han whine to you. You looked at him with raised eyebrow as you patted Han’s back to calm him down.

Minho only shrugged, “I’m showing this to him when he asks me for something. You’re in charge now since you’re his favorite.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Babe we both know that your softie ass is immediately going to cave in and do what he wants anyway.”

Minho glared at you, unamused by your comment but you didn’t really pay any mind to it, you had your attention to Han who stopped hugging you and went to Felix instead. He looked like he was about to start crying again any second now.

“Hannie baby what’s wrong?”

“You hate me!” His bold statement was followed by the most dramatic sob and collective sighs of being done from his friends.

“Why would you think that?” You were genuinely so confused. You had no idea what you did wrong.

Han glared at you for a second and returned to hugging Felix who was barely holding his laughter in. Not much to your surprise he quickly gave in. “You called Minho babe. You’re basically replacing me, you really must hate me.”

What now? You couldn’t help but blink in confusion because what the fuck was up with that logic. You really looked at him with a deadpan expression before the realization of what he said really dawned on you.

You tried, you really tried to hold your face together and not just burst out laughing, but you’re only just a human after all.

With the most teasing voice and biggest smile ever you used the chance to tease him, because let’s be real, pouty and sulky Han is the cutest Han. “Are you jealous baby?”

Han gasped and let go of Felix, he actually looked at you like he was mad now. Mad and maybe seconds away from crying which harshly puled on your heartstrings.

“I am! I’ve been in love with you for years and you’re calling Minho babe here!” He yelled and stormed off outside the club leaving you there shocked not knowing what to do. The boys also looked like they didn’t know what to do, only Minho was laughing his ass off and Hyunjin also looked like he was barely holding in his laughter in.

So he was jealous.

Oh.

Oh.

He said he loved you.

Han Jisung said he loved you.

The Han Jisung loved you.

He returned your feelings.

The boy you had been in love with for ages loved you back.

“HAN JISUNG GET YOUR ASS HERE!” You yelled as you chased after him. All seven of the boys cheering after you and encouraging you to get him. You would get to them later.

Thankfully he hadn’t gotten far, it might have taken you a second or two to let everything sink in. Han was closeby sitting on the sidewalk, pretty tears running down his rosy cheeks, what a silly boy, he even forgot to bring his jacket. You sat close to him thinking for a second of what to say to him, while also trying to warm him with your body head. He looked cold.

“If you want to tease me please go inside. I already feel like shit.” His voice was so raw and he looked so pained. It really hurt to see him like this. He sighed. “I need a minute okay? I will be fine I’m not that drunk anymore.” He took a pause. “I mean how can I be after the shit I said, God I am stupid!” You watched a tear run down his face. Before you could even realize what you were doing you reached and gently brushed away the tear. Han looked at you with tearful eyes.

“Maybe but who am I to judge? I mean, I didn’t even realize that my best friend, the man I had been in love with for god knows how long actually returns my feelings.”

God you said it. You actually admitted your feelings.

A pause.

Oh no, was he regretting it?

Was it something he just said because he was drunk?

You were startled out of your thoughts when Han literally slapped both of his cheeks. His skin immediately flushed angry red.

“What the fuck are they putting in these drinks? Actually making me hallucinate and shit.” Was he for real? You couldn’t hold yourself back so you smacked his arm.

Ignoring his whining you quickly got up and started to yell. “Han Jisung I did not just say I’m in love with you for you to think this is some kind of fucking hallucination! Do you know how much courage it takes to actually admit your feelings?” Han looked at you with wide eyes for a second then quickly got up too almost losing his balance for a second.

“Wait are you for real? You love me? You mean it?” - He asked with trembling voice.

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Of course I mean it? How can I joke about something like that?”

A second passed then two.

“Dude are you kidding me? How are you in love with me. Do you have no standards? You’re like a fucking deity, someone people should fucking worship the fuck you mean you love me? Raise your standards!”

God you needed to be paid for this shit but no amount would be enough. This whole situation made you want to pull your hair out one by one, or maybe scream on top of your lungs, or maybe actually hit him because what the fuck was this?

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” You actually couldn’t help but yell, you didn’t give a crap that you were in the middle of street and it was 2 am and maybe some people were actually asleep.

“NO?”

“I WILL ACTUALLY BEAT YOUR ASS!” You took a deep breath. You reminded yourself that he was somewhat drunk. You needed to stay calm for your own sanity at least. “Han when people tell you that they love you back you at least should be grateful that they return your feelings. The last thing you want to do is to tell them to raise their standards. Because frankly all I wanted to kiss you but now all I’m thinking about is how to hold back and not to beat your ass! You’re literally perfect what the fuck are you on about?”

You watched as the biggest grin appeared on his face. It was like his whole mood shifted. “You want to kiss me?” Okay you really wanted to hit your head against a wall now.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation. “Do you only hear what you want to hear?”

Jisung, still grinning got closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Maybe.” -he mused. “All I heard is that you want to kiss me. And I have wanted to know what it is like to kiss you since I met you. You don’t know how irresistible you are.” His voice was so sweet and tender your heart was going crazy. And it didn’t help when he leaned in and put his forehead against yours.

“I could say the same to you dumbass.” You sighed against his lips. When did he even get so close?

“Can I kiss you?” Han asked as his gaze kept shifting from your lips to your eyes.

Feeling impatient to actually answer you grabbed him by his cheeks and finally connected your lips.

Kissing him was so much better than you could have thought. His lips were cold and chapped but they felt so nice as they moved against yours. You couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure. You didn’t know who deepened the kiss but soon your tongue met his and you almost melted. He tasted so sweet. You could even taste fruity cocktails he must have had earlier on his lips. But there was something more, something purely just Han, which made you fall in love with him even deeper if it was possible. You could already feel yourself getting addicted to kissing him.

Soon you had to lean back for some air, seeing Han whine and actually chase after your lips made you smile, your heart feeling whole. You didn’t even remember why you were mad earlier. You just gazed at him lovingly his arms tight around you as your hands were still on his cheeks. His cheeks felt so warm against your cold hands, it must’ve still stung from his slap. You tried to soothe it as you gently caressed his skin. Loving how he leaned into the touch. Shaking your head a bit. Not in a million years could you imagine something like this could happen to you. Life sure is full of mysteries.

You two were brought back to reality by cheers and hollers of your forgotten friends. Oops? You immediately covered your face leaning into the hug more to hide, unable to look any of them in the eyes, feeling beyond embarrassed. Han chuckled and hugged you closer.

“This had to be one of the most painful confessions I have ever seen.” Seungmin deadpanned as others kept clapping and cheering for you.

“Like you had seen a lot of them.” Minho quipped back quickly.

“At least they finally got it over with.” Hyunjin chipped in.

“Tell me about it, it was painful to watch them.” Now it was Innie’s time to say something. Did they all have to say something?

“Oh by the way I recorded all of this, I’m playing this at your wedding.” Felix waved his phone.

Chan grinned. “Or we can show it to their children in the future.” He teased as Changbin cackled like a possessed witch.

God you were so done with these clowns.

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[spatialwave]

Jayce Talis as a Husband & Father | Headcanons

➸ ask: "hiii i was wondering if you could do post s2 arcane headcanons for Jayce?? like jayce x wife!reader that have a newborn baby??" ➸ pairing: jayce talis x wife!reader ➸ word count: 923 words ➸ tags: mdni! sfw, fluff, comfort, mentions of jayce’s trauma, pregnancy, headcanons, childbirth, parenthood, canon-divergent ending. ➸ notes: i went really poetic with this idk why. also this definitely heightened my already terrible baby fever……. please for the love of god send me more asks about girldad jayce, i am begging you. i love writing these.

When you met Jayce Talis, you fell madly in love with him almost instantly—as did he with you. Within the first six months of your relationship, he proposed to you with a ring that he’d smithed himself, adorned with a hextech gemstone that sparkled unlike anything you’d ever seen. Of course, you said yes… and moved in within that same week.

Living with Jayce Talis meant dealing with the aftershocks of what he’d gone through during his time in the arcane and subsequent war. With a permanently injured leg and mental wounds that left him cursed by night terrors, you were they by his side to help him overcome his past. You were the rock he hadn’t known he needed, the one who encouraged him to keep fixing what he’d broken (and not without his partner, Viktor.)

Although he’d gone through hell and back, he found joy and happiness in you again. No longer was he filled with anger and guilt for allowing his naivety to take control of what was right—all Jayce wanted was to be happy. With you. 

When you found out you were pregnant, Jayce was over the moon, excited and horribly nervous. He constantly worried whether or not he’d be a good father, and the absence of his own in his life made him uncertain. He would spend countless evenings with his mother, asking her hundreds of questions about parenthood, which either made it better or worse depending on what he wanted to know.

However, the worry washed away when he held his little girl in his arms—weighing shy of six pounds and so tiny in his arms. It was a beautiful sight, a rugged man with messy hair, scarred arms, and calloused hands holding the love of his life.

Your daughter brings out a side of Jayce that Viktor told you is reminiscent of his life when they first met all those years ago: gentle, curious, nervous and much too excited. 

Jayce is messy and clumsy in his parenting, learning as he goes, but he is so dedicated. He’s used to being covered in stains but no longer in oil and soot from his work. Now it’s spit-up and dried milk… among other things. And to you, he’s never looked sexier than when he’s a mess.

Even though he’s still a councillor and working with Viktor on restabilizing hextech, he makes time for his family. The days of late-night tinkering in the lab or long council meetings are in the past because there is nothing more important to him than you two.

He is a very overprotective dad, constantly worrying about the little things and often getting sleepless nights because he checks on her one too many times to make sure sleeping soundly in her crib. He baby-proofs your home with everything he can make—doorstops, locks for the cabinets and removing any of his work from his home to the lab so there are no accidents. It’s cute, but considering that your daughter is shy of two months old, the baby-proofing tends to get in the way, but you let him. ‘Father knows best’ is a term he coins and uses, much to your annoyance.

Jayce always splits the tasks of parenting between you two but is never opposed to taking on more than you if you need the rest. As you slowly transition to include bottle feeding in your routine, he takes on nightly shifts for you. You find him asleep a few times, sitting up against the crib with a blanket covered in spit-up draped over his shoulder and an empty bottle in his hand.

He is a sentimental man. He makes a locket that he wears as a necklace every day, tucked beneath his clothing, and shows it off to anyone that he can—a photo of you and your daughter inside it.

You swear you’ve never been more in love with Jayce than you are now. A loving father and husband who doesn’t let his new role as a parent overshadow his love for you.

He’s just as romantic as he was the first time he took you on a date. A month after you gave birth and were far too stir-crazy to be at home any longer, Ximena watched your daughter, and he took you out on a date that reminded you of simpler times. Showering you with gentle touches and kisses that set your heart on fire and reignited your passion.

Jayce noticed how your confidence dropped since the pregnancy. He finds you looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to love the body that grew your daughter, hands over your still-rounded stomach and tracing the stretchmarks. Changes that look so large in your eyes go unnoticed by him, and he makes sure to cherish your body as a reminder that his love for you hasn’t changed.

Every night in bed, he kisses your stomach, your hips, your thighs—peppering your body with kisses and massaging you as he worships your strength and beauty, silently thanking you for bringing your daughter into the world. 

As with any relationship, there are good days and bad. Some days go so smoothly that you wonder if you both were naturally inclined to be the perfect parents. Then come the days when all you can do is argue, overcome with the stress, fears and worries of marriage and parenthood.

But you make it through because to be loved by Jayce Talis is to feel love unlike anything you have experienced before, and that is worth the hardships.

[awearywritersworld]

men are so quick to blame the gods

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist

humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.

so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.

nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.

that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.

luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.

you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.

when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.

"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.

a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.

it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.

"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.

a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."

"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."

he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.

as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.

the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.

you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.

"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."

you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.

"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."

"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."

"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."

"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."

you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.

"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.

"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"

"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."

sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.

over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.

it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.

it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"

your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"

"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."

though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."

"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."

you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."

it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.

he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."

"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"

"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."

you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."

he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.

"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."

his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"

he muses over your question briefly.

"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?

you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."

"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"

you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"

"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."

"oh. well that's, um, good."

he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.

"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.

"stop what?"

"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."

he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."

"see? that's much better."

"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.

you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.

the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.

when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.

"w-what do you want?"

"i seem to recall asking you a question."

you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.

"i'm not crying," you declare.

sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."

you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."

yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.

and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.

"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.

your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."

"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.

"don't flatter yourself."

he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.

he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.

but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."

you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.

"promise?"

for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—

"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."

"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."

"...night, brat."

less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.

though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.

he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.

he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.

at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.

when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.

you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."

"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"

he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.

you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"

he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."

you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."

he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.

he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."

"but you won't."

he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"

"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."

he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.

"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.

the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.

"i don't know."

"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."

you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.

it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.

he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.

you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.

"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."

just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.

"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"

the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 2

Warnings: suggestions of death, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

You watch the witcher set off into the fog from between the slats of the barn. It’s been a fortnight crammed into the space. The stench has faded to something tolerable but the tension hasn’t. 

The now orphaned maiden clings to your arm. That’s what she is now. The man in black all but confirmed it. His horse tramps off into oblivion without hesitation as he sits tall in his saddle, disappearing into the haze. You sit back as your companion sniffles. 

“They’re dead? All of them?” 

“It would seem,” you sigh and lean on the wall.  

Your sister was a sweet girl but even before the revelation, you had little hope. Especially as your mother went to search and did not return. Your father has only you and your brother left. Marsh is a child still but he will grow into his legacy, so long as you father lasts that long. 

“How could this happen to us? Why Krescent? We are a good pious village,” she whines, her sniveling grating your addled nerves. 

“Bad things happen to all, regardless of prayers,” you resign. 

“That is blaspheme,” she accuses. 

“It is the truth. It has happened to all in the wretched place. And if this witcher should be able to slay the evil, then I too shall walk off to my own doom, only a living one.” 

She looks at you with her watery eyes. They are such a pale shade of green that they look almost yellow. She always reminded you of a swampy witch, the ones in the stories you whispered so the elders did not hear. 

“I suppose...” she begins, “marriage is destined to all. It shouldn’t be such a surprise.” 

“To him?” You wonder grimly. “Perhaps, at least, I will be away from this cursed land, that I should not look upon it and think of my...” your voice catches as the witcher’s words crash upon you. Your legs buckle and you slide down the wall and fold against your knees. “They truly are gone.” 

Caralyn mops away her tears as she kneels at your side. Your own eyes do not weep though your chest concaves. You brace your head as your elbows rest on your knees. You take a deep breath. 

“My father did not protest,” you murmur. “He is too dumbed without my mother to do anything.” You look at her, still hunched, “you must promise to look after Marsh.” 

“I promise,” she avows and brushes your sleeve softly. “I will keep him close to my own brothers and sisters, now that it is up to me to see to them.” 

You nod and frown deeper, “I’m deeply sorry for your parents, Caralyn. They were always so kind.” 

“So kind, I do wonder why it should be them instead of me,” her eyes spring with tears again and she lowers herself to her bottom. She wipes her nose messily and heaves.  

You wring your hands. You wonder the same of your mother and sister. How can it be that Lessa would wander off and you would be left behind to miss her. Your mother was always the order in your life and now it is chaos. 

Along with grief, is more terror. What should happen should the fogler, or whatever he called, it not desist? What if the witcher were to defeat the monster? Should he really claim your hand? A wife?  

Caralyn is right, it is not great surprise to be wed. It is a young woman’s fate but this... what sort of wife can you be to someone like him. The tainted. The sort spat upon at even the lowest tavern. 

“He was not... hideous,” Caralyn suggests as if reading your thoughts. 

You scrunch your nose at her, “how he looks is the least of my woes.” 

“Tall. Strong.” She offers. 

“Car, stop,” you chide. 

“You must... must try to hearten,” she shifts closer so her legs touch yours and she leans a little, as if to comfort you. “As our mothers would always tell us, we must be good wives one day. No matter who. I’m certain if you prove a good loyal wife, he would not treat you as one of his beasts.” 

You stare at her and hum. She is not incorrect. You were never to choose your husband so it should be that it doesn’t matter so much who it is. Only that you serve him well. 

“A man is a man, even if witcher he be,” she declares.