#a bad boy romance

[simulantion]

Nerd Smartass, a fitting name for a goody-two-shoes girl whose only focus is school and occasionally running after a group of bad boys

Game: Choices: Stories you play

Book: Ride or Die

Funny how detective Jason calls MC's father dismissively

In this playthrough MC romanced Mona and why not? She looks gorgeous!

I've played this book before, even with all the plot holes and whatnot, I still enjoy it a lot. I wanted to try what's the difference if I chose all the study options and if I chose the rebellious options, so this time it's the goody-two-shoes MC :)

Next I will try the rebel type and romance Colt

I'll echo everyone and say that this book deserves a sequel, even though with this ending it's bittersweet and it allows MC to experience a bad boy life and still have her future ahead

Last but not least, a quote from our MC to conclude this post:

[ieidolon]

Insane to me that certain comic book creators who shall not be named dismissed Jonathan Harker as a "milk sop" and a boring character. White-haired avenger with ambiguously vampiric superstrength Jonathan Harker. Most violent and unhinged member of the vampire hunters Jonathan Harker. Ran at Dracula with a kukri knife without skipping a beat and then tried to climb out of a window to pursue him Jonathan Harker. "Like a living flame" Jonathan Harker. Calls his bond with his wife "the holiest love" and determines that if she becomes a vampire, even if Dracula calls her to his side, "she shall not go into that dark night alone" Jonathan Harker. You know. That one.

[absolutelyzoned]

being alive so great. like Wow. im having fun. how can i make this about gerard way

[each-uisge-enthusiast]

the modern villainisation of demeter will never cease to enrage me bc it wasn’t ENOUGH to just take a story of a girl being torn from her home from everyone who loved her and dragged away to be forced into marriage and twist and corrupt it until it was a romance story about female empowerment that wasn’t ENOUGH they HAD to take the original hero of the story the mother who went to every length to find her daughter again to bring her home and demonise her character until she was this horrific overbearing unloving mother. overprotective controlling without love. they turn the story of her grief at her YOUNG daughter being torn from her without her knowledge into the story of a misunderstood bad boy and a horrible cruel mother who won’t give him a chance and i really find it sickening. it’s ironic, that the ever misogynist age of hellenistic greece, has a better grasp of how disgusting and horrifying this situation was that a modern, self proclaimed ‘feminist’ era.

[wigglebox]

Sad Bois’ Story Time

Bonus:

[bluerosefox]

Masks and Moonlit Night

-Crashes through DPxDC window and sticks a new AU sticky note down on everyones foreheads-

ANGER MANAGEMENT MASQUERADE BALL AU!

Jazz is forced by her parents to go to all Masquerade ball at Vlad's, whose using Jazz as both a way to keep Danny in line (as well as Jazz, basically Danny can't fight back or he'll hurt Jazz and Jazz can't fight back because he'll also hurt Danny who he has locked up at the moment) and to 'impress' the elites (As much as Vlad wants to use Danny for the party he knows the boy would do something to embarrass him in front of them, he at least knows Jazz will keep her manners in check) with how intelligent his goddaughter is.

During the ball, Jazz (in a stunning dress and mask, think like manhwa worthy outfit tbh if you want) meets Jason (who lost the Bats/Birds most recent 'Not it' game and was made to go with Tim to Vlad's party) and both hit it off when they meet in the garden, under moonlight, both wanting some fresh air.

Jazz wants to enjoy her time with Jason but worries about Danny and thus tries to leave and figure a way to help him without tipping Vlad off she was trying to save her brother. However she notices she's being watched by some ghosts Vlad employed and no doubt would report her should she even try. So she kinda uses Jason as way to keep them being unaware of her planning... or at least that was the case until she noticed another Team Phantom member sneaking into Vlad's place and knows its only a matter of time before her brother is freed.

Within the hour she gets a text from Danny who tells her, he's out and gonna fight Vlad for locking him up, that Dani is with him too so it'll be double beat down and that he'll come get her soon.

She is pulled away from the text when Jason asks what books she likes to read and now with the weight of her brother needing to be safe, or as safe as he could be, is lifted off her shoulder she answers.

Its magical, its wonderful, and for a moment Jazz is able to actually enjoy this party, ignoring the pained hits Vlad was no doubt receiving from what she can hear with her liminal enchanced hearing, because talking to Jason, or J as he introduced himself as, was very fun and wonderful and wow he was very handsome even with his mask and-

Jazz is startled out of her wondering thoughts when she could hear someone in the party scream, no doubt Danny, Dani, and Vlad's fight probably bleed into the main hall and she could see people starting to run out.

Jazz sits on the bench as Jason goes running in, no doubt curious as to what is happening and going to get his 'brother' Tim who he came to the party with out. Jazz takes off her mask and sits it down the bench and waits before Dani appears and says they should get going, Danny is keeping an angry Vlad busy and that she can take Jazz home.

By the time Jason comes back, with a researching on his phone Tim, all he finds of the charming woman he met at the dumb ball he got dragged to was her mask on the bench.

[celestie0]

choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown. 

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!” 

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!” 

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music. 

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic. 

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like  “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex. 

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair. 

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours. 

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage. 

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder. 

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage. 

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it. 

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants. 

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”  

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there. 

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.” 

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?” 

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex. 

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface. 

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition. 

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving. 

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.  

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot. 

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering. 

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of. 

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest. 

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in. 

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast. 

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment. 

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all. 

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again.  His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you. 

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.” 

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous. 

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough. 

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.” 

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush. 

.

.

.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day. 

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized. 

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

[ghettogirly]

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄!!

-> synopsis: where he sees an unwanted man bothering you at the bar and decides to step in.

[🕷️] warnings: mature language, presence of guns, mention of violence, mention of alcohol.

[🕷️] authors note: this is my first time writing an imagine after three years so bear with me!! please reblog and like if you enjoy!

It was a cool day in nighttime of Miami, the sky cascades with elements of black and dark purple as the day descends into the night. You walked into the club, Zillion, and a stone of lights automatically attacks your eyes. The neon colours and the loud music hits your ears as swarms of people dance around you.

Your friends encouraged you to come out with them for once as you always stay at home, loving the peace and comfort of your own house. However, you felt guilty neglecting them and decided to accept their offer.

“Isn’t this fun!”, your best friend, Selina squeals.

You try push out a smile but you can’t help but still not feel the excitement that runs throughout the cramped room. “This isn’t my vibe, i want to go home already.” You sigh, feeling an aching sensation in the side of your head.

Nevertheless, your friends drags you to a tiny booth, having a small table with a bucket of ice and champagne placed on it. They start dancing to the music a little bit while deciding what they’re going to drink, completely hypnotised by the energy surging throughout the room. You just stand there, trying to loosen up a bit.

Your eyes scan the room, looking over the crowd of people on the dance floor before landing on a balcony on the upper floor. The VIP section. Interested, you observe the people there noticing flamboyant men with chains and clearly a lot of wealth. Sleazy women were scattered around them as they entertained useless conversations and presented flattery to the men. However, there was one particular man who was sitting there, a glass of whiskey and ice in his hand, completely zoned out.

You was fascinated. From your angle you could only see certain details of him. He wore a black silk shirt and ripped jeans, his lips were full, pink and glossy with his right eyebrow having a scar stripped through it. His tan skin shone in the neon lights, the club lights flattering his skin as the purple light compliments his cool undertones.

He was clearly uninterested in the girls around him, his scowl present on his face as he ignores the countless efforts of conversations around him.

Time goes by and you lose focus of everything going around you: eyes glued onto him. Everything seemed to stand still, the world no longer being important unless-

“Hey! What you looking at?” One of your friends shout from across the booth, snapping you out of ogling of the mysterious man. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Okay well, can you get us some drinks from the bar? I want a vodka with coke and some shots for the table, get whatever you want it’s on me!” She shouts over the defeaning music, shooing me away.

“Looks like i have no choice,” I sigh.

Walking over to the bar, i sit on one of the wooden stools, waiting for a bartender to approach me. Tapping the table out of habit, i feel a presence behind me. “Hey pretty lady, what’s your name?” The unknown man whispers, i feel his hot breath on my ear, causing me to shiver.

“I don’t have a name.” I groan, not even bothering to turn around and engage with the clearly drunken man, already over with the situation. He sits down beside me nevertheless. “Everyone has a name angel, come on.. tell me.” His alcoholic breath floods my nose, i squirm at the thought of the amount of alcohol he’s consumed.

His hand reaches over to my hair, tucking it behind my ear which now causes me to turn to his direction but move my head back in retaliation from the bold move. “I said i don’t have one, leave me alone.”

Out of nowhere, he grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “Don’t make me ask again.” The force he inflicts on my face causes my eyes to water, unable to say anything due to the man’s blind rage, i try repeatedly tapping his arm to let go of me but the alcohol has clouded his sense of judgement.

A whistle is then heard behind the man. “Let go.”

I look up and it’s the same man i noticed sitting at the VIP booth, he holds a silver glock to creep’s head, his face undistinguishable. Moving to the man’s ear he whispers, “don’t make me have to tell you twice,” his accent thick and heavy.

The man instantly lets go of my face, clearly shaking at not only the presence of the foreign man but the gun to his head as well. I sit there in shock, my eyes flickering from man to man, frozen as to what’s going to happen next.

“Now you’re going to apologise to this pretty lady and leave this club, don’t let me see you again or i will kill you.” He states casually, before swiftly putting the man into a headlock, keeping the gun in the same position. “Trust me, i’ll make sure to do it slowly and painfully.” He holds him down harder before letting him go, the drunken man chokes out and wheezes before running out of the club side to side due to his incompetent state.

The foreign man now turns to me, a slight smirk on his face. “The names Armando. Drinks are on me.”

[citrus-c0la]

hey hey hey emo boy 💀💙 I decided to make fanart of an Emo!Idia design on twitter :3 it made me go insane https://x.com/vivid_rpg/status/1741991670889988550?s=20

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

~

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

[dragon-razor-writings]

Context: Yang and Jaune are chilling in the commons room.

Jaune: "I wonder if anybody here would even date me."

Yang: "I'mma be real, VB. You have a vibe that makes it feel wrong to do anything other than marry you."

Jaune: "…Wait, what?"

Yang: "I'm not saying this as an insult, though. It's just…you give off 'saving himself for his one true love' type of deal."

Yang: "You're a sweet dude, don't get me wrong. But, thinking about you in any way other than 'married life with a few kids and a pet' just feels wrong. Like, I feel like I'm committing a sin for doing that."

Jaune, now very confused: "I don't know what to make of that."

Yang: "You're a Sheppardist, right?"

Jaune: "Yeah, why?"

Yang: "You know that story of...fuckin' whoever where they died due to poisoned clothes?"

Jaune: "Saint Alcides, yeah."

Yang: "Wanting to do anything that isn't 'consummate love in candlelight' or 'give you pizza and a Director's Cut DVD' is essentially how that feels for basically anyone who knows you for more than ten minutes."

[bellarkeselection]

Knew Better But Still Picked You

Gif from @alphinias

Honestly I might turn this into a small series because this is the longest request I have ever written. Let me know if you want more parts 😁. Part two. Part three

Request From @loxleys-blog could i be added to the tag list for cole and a request of best friend of jackie who comes to visit her and moves there with her family and falls for cole and cole falls for her?

The car pulled to a stop outside the big Walter ranch household and I saw the front door fling open revealing my best friend from New York running straight for me. Getting out of the car I took my bag out and opened my arms for her. “Jackie Jack!”

“Y/n. I can’t believe you’re here!” She flung her arms around me and we stumbled when we finally embraced one another.

Jackie and I had become even closer than we were before after her family’s accident. The rest of her friends wouldn’t talk to her but I chose to keep our relationship the same. So I basically took the place of her sister Lucy. “Who’s your friend, New York?” I broke away from her seeing a young guy with green eyes and honey blonde hair.

“She’s my best friend from back home, Cole.” Jackie grumbled tugging on my arm trying to get me to leave with her.

Yet I wasn’t going to not introduce myself to him especially since he was really attractive. Walking over to the guy was sitting on a horse with light blonde hair like he had. “Hey there, I’m Y/n.” Leaning my arms on the wooden fence I sent him a grin.

He dismounted his horse and climbed over the fence shaking my hand with a cheeky grin. “Cole, Cole Walter. Have you ever been on a horse before?”

“Can’t say I have.” I replied to him.

His grin only grew. “Would you want to come riding with me?”

“No. No she wouldn’t actually. Because she’s coming to have ice cream with me and my friends. So we’re gonna be going now.” Jackie came rushing forward tugging on my arm and leading me back away from him. Whipping my head around watching Cole staring at us as we went to leave. I parted my lips, finding myself wanting to talk with him more. There was something intriguing about him I just couldn’t put my finger on.

A few hours later Jackie had me meet Skylar and Tara who she had met on her first day of school. We were sitting inside the ice cream shop where I took a big bite out of my strawberry cone hearing the store bell ring. My gaze shifted to the doorway recognizing Cole came through and he waved in my direction. “OMG. That is not a good idea at all.”

“What’s wrong, Tara?” I asked, finishing the bite I had in my mouth confused.

She sent me a raised brow. “You're getting involved with Cole Walter.”

“I’m not involved with him. I just met the guy today after I came in from the airport.” I told her to eat more of my cone.

Lifting my gaze upward Cole was ordering himself his own ice cream and the woman at the counter handed it over to him. Cole glanced my way and I felt my face turn red after I waved back to him without really thinking and Jackie hit my arm in warning. “Don’t go down that road, Y/n. Cole isn’t a good guy.”

“Why not?” I asked softly.

The three of them looked between one another and Skylar was the first to say something to my question. “He’s known to have a lot of hookups and not be up for a real relationship.”

“He sneaks them out of the house. I saw one the first morning I got to the Walter house. Alex can tell you more if that’s not enough of a warning for you.” Jackie explained putting a hand on my shoulder.

Shaking my head I still didn’t see why they were so afraid for me. I didn’t know anything about the guy but he seemed nice enough. “Okay don’t shoot me for asking this but what is the big deal of getting to know him. I’m not going to hook up with him.”

“That’s what most girls think and then he woos them with his charm…” Tara trailed off.

My best friend squeezed my shoulder and I met her concerned gaze. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because of him. You’re basically my chosen sister now.”

“He’s not gonna ever be interested in me Jackie and I’m not going to be interested in him.” I reassured her and we changed the conversation to something else for the rest of the time.

A few hours later after the crazy family dinner I was laying on my side of Jackie’s bed while she was doing some extra credit homework. Staring up at the ceiling I sighed clasping my hands together on my stomach. It definitely was different from the noisy city sirens and other things. Whereas here you could only hear the wind and all the other animal noises. I heard something slide underneath the closed bedroom door where I got up from the bed seeing it was a note. Folding it open the note read “Meet me on the porch if you want to see something cool - C”

Silently reading it to myself I contemplated on going or not eyeing my best friend while she worked silently. I didn’t suppose she would see if I was gone for a little bit. “Hey Jackie Jack, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Okay. But use mine. Don’t use the one that everybody else does. Trust me.” She warned me turning back around in her desk chair.

Getting to my feet I snatched my boots out from underneath the bed and a green hoodie without her knowing. Then I headed down the stairs as quietly as I could possibly manage since it was almost midnight and most of the house was asleep. Reaching the front door I snuck through it, closing it gently then walked to the edge of the porch not seeing Cole anywhere. “Cole!” I called out still in a quiet voice.

“Over here, Y/n.” He responded by waving a flashlight from the barn door that he had opened. Rushing down the steps I ran towards the barn meeting up with him where he lowered the flashlight when we were standing in front of each other. “Was wondering if you were actually going to show up.”

Shrugging my shoulders I admitted slightly nervous of what he had planned in the middle of the night. “Gotta be honest I’ve never snuck out in the middle of the night like this. So what do you have in mind, Colorado?”

“I wanna show you something you don’t see in fancy New York.” He drew open a horse stall and walked out the horse he was on when we first met. “This is my horse.”

Taking a step forward I brushed a hand through its mane. “He’s beautiful.”

“Glad you like him cause we’re going to ride him to the spot I want to show you.” Cole responded by brushing his hand through his horse's mane touching my hand when he finished his sentence.

Tilting my head at the Walter boy I must have misheard him. “I’m sorry we’re doing what now?”

“We’re going to ride my horse together so I can show you a special spot.” Cole said again to me shutting the door with his foot holding out his freehand to help me step up on the box that was near where his horse was standing already saddled up. “Don’t worry city girl. I won’t make you ride alone until after I’ve shown you how to ride.”

Eyeing his hand extended to me I couldn’t help but hear Jackie and the others warming to not get involved with the Cole Effect. Yet I couldn’t deny I liked the thrill of butterflies he was giving me so I gave him my hand. “Just don’t let me fall off okay.” He nodded helping me throw one leg over and once I was settled he climbed on behind me.

“Hang on tight, Y/n.” He warned me, pressing his front closely to my back, making my face turn a shade of red as he kicked his horse in the gut and we raced from the barn to the open fields in the distance.

The wind blew through our hair and I hadn’t realized but I gripped Cole’s forearm since he was the one controlling the reins. Probably knowing I might scare the horse and then we’d be in trouble. He finally tugged the reins and slowly dismounted the horse helping me down. He had his horse lay down sitting down on the ground waiting for me. “Come on, sit down.” He patted the grass beside him.

“Okay.” I agree plopping down beside him looking around at the dark woods surrounding us. “So what did you want to show me?”

Cole moved his right hand forward tilting my chin upwards towards the sky. “This is what I wanted to show ya, Y/n.”

I gasped in awe seeing the sky dancing with a million stars above our heads. Blinking through some tears I couldn’t describe what it felt like to see something this bright. “This is incredibly beautiful…” The stars were so bright and even though we had some impressive light shows in New York none would compare to this.

“It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful. You surely can’t get that view in the city.” Cole mumbled, causing me to meet his green gaze.

I paused in my next words still confused as to why he was giving me his time and attention when he was labeled as the most popular boy in this town. “Cole, why did you ask me out here tonight? Not that I don’t appreciate it. I just…I don’t entirely understand why me?”

“I ain’t good with saying how I feel so sorry if this sounds stupid….I just instantly liked you for some reason.” He declares where I didn’t say a word with our gazes focusing in on one another.

Parting my lips I whispered out. “Liked me in what way, Cole?”

“In the way where we can…do this.” Cole whispered towards me before he made my breath catch in my throat seeing him leaning forward about to kiss me.

Half of my brain was telling me to not kiss him and remember the warning and the other half was saying he would be your first kiss and I couldn’t deny that I felt something for him even though all we had done was saying hello. I finally made up my mind and closed the gap the rest of the way kissing him. He responded by scooting closer to me and threading one hand through my hair trailing it down to the side of my cheek before I broke it needling air. “Cole….don’t find this dorky of me. But that…you were my first kiss.”

“I wouldn’t judge you for that. So what are you thinking now, Y/n.” He asked me to try to read my facial expressions but I was still in shock and bliss at the same time.

Hugging my knees to my chest I admitted sheepishly with my face turning red. “Jackie isn’t gonna be happy about this. She warned me to stay away from you….I knew better but I’m still choosing you.”

“Well I’m glad cause I’m picking you too, Y/n.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and I laid my head against his chest feeling my eyes getting heavy since I was getting sleepy. His gaze dropped to mine, tucking hair from my eyes. “Don’t worry about Jackie. You’ve got to live a little in life. Now let’s get you back before you fall asleep out here.”

We rode back to the house and I struggled to stay awake after getting off his horse so he decided to just carry me back bridal style upstairs. “Cole, this isn’t my room…she’ll be mad if I sleep in your room.” I trailed off in a sleepy tone laying my head still on his chest with him laying me down on one side of his bed.

He changed into some shorts to sleep in and crawled in the bed beside me feeling me scoot over to him laying my head back in the crook of his neck like it was minutes ago. “Sssh babe. I’ll take whatever Jackie feels tomorrow morning. Just get some rest.” My eyes fell closed and he dozed off shortly after in a peaceful night of sleep.

That was until the morning came and his bedroom door was flung open and I screamed hearing my best friend bursting into his room. “Y/n, I told you to stay away from him!…Well don’t you two have anything to say?” Rubbing my eyes Cole shifted, holding himself up on his elbow staring down at me silently, neither of us giving her an answer.

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @cognacdelights

[dandelions-143]

Exile

Changbin Masterlist

All member Masterlist

AN: Sorry I’ve been MIA! I’ve had horrible writers block. Also sorry if this isn’t up to my usual standards. I’m slowly clawing my way out of this damned block. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing:Non-idol,bad boy Changbinxidol/Celebrity Y/n

Word Count: 3,250k

Warnings: this one’s pretty tame (for now) MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Emotional manipulation, Heartbreak and relationship struggles, Implied violence, Alcohol consumption (setting in a bar), Unwanted advances/harassment, Mild physical violence, Intense emotions and confrontations, References to criminal activities

Summary: Y/n decided to end things with Changbin years ago to pursue her dreams. But what happens when she comes face to face with the man she left behind but could never forget?

You sat on the worn wooden steps of your childhood home's front porch, the familiar creaks beneath you a comforting reminder of countless summers past. The warm evening air caressed your skin, carrying with it the sweet scent of blooming jasmine from your mother's garden. As the sun dipped below the horizon, it painted the sky in a breathtaking array of colors - deep oranges melting into soft pinks and vibrant purples. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, savoring this moment of tranquility.

The peaceful scene was suddenly shattered by the distant roar of a motorcycle engine, growing louder with each passing second. Your eyes flew open, heart already beginning to race as you recognized the familiar sound. The old black Harley-Davidson - the very one you'd clung to Changbin on during countless midnight rides - came into view, its chrome accents glinting in the fading light.

Changbin smoothly brought the bike to a stop just a few feet away, the engine's rumble fading to a low purr before he cut it off completely. With practiced ease, he swung his leg over the seat and removed his helmet. Your breath caught in your throat as he shook out his dark hair, mussed from the ride. His eyes, deep and intense, found yours immediately. A smirk played on his lips as he approached, and you couldn't help but notice how his leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders, how his faded jeans clung to his muscular thighs.

"Hey, you," Changbin said, his voice warm and rich like honey. He reached for your hands, pulling you up from the steps and into his strong arms. The familiar scent of his cologne - a heady mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him - enveloped you. Your heart raced, squeezing tightly in your chest as he leaned in for a kiss. Despite every fiber of your being screaming to give in, to melt into his warm embrace, you turned your head at the last second, his lips grazing your cheek instead.

Confusion flickered across Changbin's handsome features as he pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your arms. "What's wrong, Y/n?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, knowing that if you did, your resolve might crumble entirely. Instead, you focused on a point just past his shoulder, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat.

"I'm leaving," you said quietly, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. "The company I auditioned for... they called. They want me as a trainee." You risked a glance at Changbin's face, watching as understanding dawned in his dark eyes. He knew how much this meant to you, how long you'd dreamed of becoming a singer. You'd spent countless nights talking about your aspirations, Changbin always your most ardent supporter.

For a moment, Changbin was silent, his eyes searching your face. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, processing this new information. Then, like the sun breaking through storm clouds, his expression softened into that easy smile you loved so much. "You got it?!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. "Y/n, that's incredible!"

Unable to contain your own smile despite the heaviness in your heart, you nodded. Changbin pulled you into a tight hug, his strong arms enveloping you completely. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent as he whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Y/n. I always knew you could do it."

"Thank you," you murmured softly, your lips brushing against the warm skin of his neck. The moment was bittersweet, joy and sorrow intertwining in your chest. When Changbin moved to kiss you again, swept up in the excitement, you reluctantly stepped back. The hurt and confusion that flashed across his face made your heart ache.

"What's going on, Y/n?" Changbin asked, his voice soft but laced with growing concern. "Talk to me." You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the words you knew you had to say, even though they threatened to tear you apart.

"I think... I think it's best if we take a break, Changbin," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers unconsciously went to the promise ring on your left hand - the one he'd given you on your 16th birthday. The metal felt cold against your skin as you twisted it nervously. "Just for a while..."

Changbin's face fell, the joy from moments ago replaced by a look of utter devastation. "A break?" he repeated, as if saying the words aloud might change their meaning. "Y/n, we've been best friends since we were kids. We've been together for years. I don't understand..."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you struggled to explain. "I can't ask you to wait for me, Changbin. To put your life on hold while I'm off chasing my dreams. It's not fair to either of us." Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the emotions you were desperately trying to keep in check.

The silence that followed was deafening. You watched as Changbin's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with a storm of emotions - hurt, anger, confusion, and something that looked dangerously close to heartbreak. The tension between you grew thick, suffocating, as you waited for him to say something, anything.

Finally, Changbin spoke, his voice low and strained. "Is this really what you want?" His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of pain and resignation evident in their depths. You felt your resolve wavering under the intensity of his gaze, but you knew you had to stay strong - for both your sakes.

"No," you admitted, shaking your head. "It's not what I want at all. But sometimes... sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do. For the greater good." The words sounded hollow even to your own ears, but you pressed on. "We both need to focus on our dreams right now, Changbin. Without distractions."

Changbin's head dropped, his gaze fixed on the ground between you. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. "What if my dream is you?" The raw vulnerability in his words made your heart clench painfully. You reached out, gently lifting his chin so his eyes met yours once more.

"Changbin, I..." you started, but the words caught in your throat as you saw the depth of emotion in his gaze. How could you explain that your dreams had always included him, that the thought of a future without him by your side felt incomplete? But you also knew that this opportunity was one you couldn't pass up, even if it meant sacrificing what you held most dear.

He took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. The tenderness of the gesture nearly broke you. "Please," Changbin said, his voice rough with emotion. "You know I don't beg, Y/n, but I love you so much. We can make this work. Long-distance, whatever it takes. I'll wait for you, I'll-“

The intensity of his words, the depth of his love, stirred something within you - a mixture of longing and frustration. You pulled your hand away, taking a step back to create some distance between you. "Changbin, please," you said, your voice cracking. "Please don't make this harder than it already is. We both know long-distance relationships rarely work, especially with the demands of being a trainee. I can't ask you to put your life on hold for me."

Changbin ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up in that way that always made him look irresistibly handsome. His face was a canvas of conflicting emotions - hurt, anger, and love all warring for dominance. He took a step towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. The air between you crackled with tension, a potent mixture of longing and the painful reality of your impending separation.

"But this isn't what you want," Changbin argued, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "You just said-"

"Changbin!" You cut him off, your own emotions finally bubbling to the surface. "I want you, but I want my dream more!" The words left your mouth before you could fully consider their impact, hanging in the air like a physical blow.

You watched as Changbin's expression hardened, his loving gaze turning cold as your words hit him. He stood there for a long moment, just watching you, his face becoming an unreadable mask. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and controlled, but you could hear the hurt and anger simmering beneath the surface.

"I hope your dream ends up being exactly what you wanted, Y/n," he said, each word carefully measured. His jaw clenched, and you could see the storm of emotions raging in his eyes. Without another word, Changbin turned on his heel, striding back to his motorcycle with purposeful steps.

The roar of the engine starting up felt like a physical blow. You wanted to call out to him, to take back your words and beg him to stay. But you remained rooted to the spot, watching as Changbin sped away, leaving you alone on the porch with nothing but the fading sound of his motorcycle and the weight of your words.

As his silhouette disappeared into the distance, the finality of the moment crashed over you. Tears that you had been holding back finally spilled over, running hot down your cheeks. You sank back onto the porch steps, your body shaking with silent sobs as the reality of what you had just done began to sink in. The promise ring on your finger felt impossibly heavy, a constant reminder of the love you were leaving behind in pursuit of your dreams.

🥀

SEVEN YEARS LATER

The neon lights of Seoul's bustling streets reflected off the gleaming chrome of Changbin's motorcycle as he weaved through the late-night traffic. The cool night air whipped against his face, a stark contrast to the heat of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had a job to do, a task given to him by Chan's father - to teach a lesson to someone who had dared to cross their organization.

Changbin's mind raced as he navigated the city, his thoughts a mix of anticipation for the job ahead and memories of how he'd ended up in this life. The years since you'd left had hardened him, transforming the once carefree teenager into a man accustomed to violence and danger. Being the muscle for Chan's father's organization had become second nature to him, each job a reminder of the path he'd chosen after his heart was broken.

As he approached the upscale hotel, its towering structure a beacon of luxury in the night, Changbin's expression settled into one of grim determination. He parked his motorcycle in a secluded corner of the lot, his eyes scanning the area with the practiced vigilance of someone who lived on the edge of the law. The weight of his leather jacket, a second skin after all these years, felt comforting as he adjusted it and ran a hand through his hair, mentally preparing for what lay ahead.

The hotel's opulent lobby was a stark contrast to the gritty world Changbin now inhabited. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over marble floors, and the air was heavy with the scent of expensive perfumes and polished wood. He moved with purpose, his presence drawing curious glances from the well-heeled patrons, unaware of the storm that was about to break in their midst.

The bar, tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the lower level, was Changbin's destination. The muted sounds of clinking glasses and hushed conversations grew louder as he descended the stairs. His eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the room, quickly identifying his target - a man whose hands were wandering too freely over an clearly uncomfortable young woman at the bar.

Changbin's jaw clenched, a mix of disgust at the man's behavior and a flicker of something else - a memory of a time when he would have defended you with the same fierce protectiveness. He strode forward, his presence commanding attention even before he reached the pair. Without hesitation, he gripped the back of the man's neck, his voice low and dangerous as he growled, "I believe she's not interested."

The man's eyes widened in recognition and fear, realizing too late the gravity of his situation. "Hey man," he stammered, hands raised in a futile gesture of innocence, "I just wanted to talk to her, I'm a huge fan of Y/n's."

At the mention of your name, Changbin's world tilted on its axis. His head snapped to the right, eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, time stood still. The years melted away, and he was once again the boy who had loved you with every fiber of his being. Recognition dawned on both your faces, a maelstrom of emotions - surprise, nostalgia, and unresolved feelings - crackling in the air between you.

The moment was shattered as quickly as it had formed. Changbin's anger, fueled by the shock of seeing you and the audacity of the man who had dared to touch you, surged back with renewed intensity. His grip on the man's neck tightened, eyes blazing with a fury that made even hardened criminals cower. "Wait, wait!" the man begged, his voice rising in panic, "Tell the boss I'm sorry, yeah?! I'll have his mo-"

Changbin's fist connected with the man's face before he could finish his plea, the sickening crack of bone echoing through the bar. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious, as Changbin stood over him, chest heaving with exertion and barely contained rage. Every instinct screamed at him to continue, to unleash years of pent-up frustration and pain on this unfortunate soul, but he reined himself in, acutely aware of your presence and the line he couldn't afford to cross.

Slowly, he turned back to you, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. The years had changed him, sculpting the boy you once knew into a man of dangerous allure. His face, once soft with youth, was now chiseled and sharp, a hint of stubble adding to his rugged appeal. The lean teenager had been replaced by a man of solid muscle, his presence commanding and undeniably magnetic.

For a moment, you both stood frozen, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. Changbin's intense gaze softened almost imperceptibly as he took in your appearance, noting how you'd changed yet remained achingly familiar. The silence stretched between you, filled with a potent mixture of tension and an undeniable spark of the connection you once shared.

“Changbin..” is all you could get past your lips. It’s like all the things you had ever wanted to say to him over the years just disappeared the moment you locked eyes with him. He looked as if he was going to say something but the moment was broken by the sound of security guards rushing into the bar. Changbin's eyes darted towards the entrance, his body tensing as he assessed the situation.

You instinctively stepped between Changbin and the guy lying passed out on the floor. “It took you guys long enough.” Your tone as spoiled and condescending as you could make it. “That guys assaulted me. If it wasn’t for this man here, god knows what would have happened!” you placed a soft hand on Chanbgins shoulder. The security guards looked taken aback by your sudden outburst, their eyes darting between you, Changbin, and the unconscious man on the floor. Changbin's expression remained impassive, but you could sense the tension radiating from him as he stood silently by your side. The head of security stepped forward, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Well?” You said with a bit of annoyance, “take him away!” The security guards exchanged glances before nodding and moving towards the unconscious man. As they hoisted him up and began to drag him away, you felt Changbin's muscles tense beneath your hand. You turned to face him, your heart racing as you realized the gravity of the situation you both found yourselves in.

“Uh, thanks.” Changbin mumbled before heading towards the exit. His stride were wide and rushed. You watched him leave with a mixture of longing and frustration. Your mind raced, trying to decide whether to follow him or let him go. Before you could make a decision, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning, you saw your manager, her face a mask of concern and confusion. “You okay? Let’s get you back up to your room. You have a shoot tomorrow.”

You sighed softly and turned back towards the exit, your heart racing as you caught a glimpse of Changbin's retreating figure. Without thinking, you brushed off your manager's hand and took a step forward. "I'm sorry, I need to do something," you said hurriedly, your voice barely above a whisper. Before your manager could protest, you were already moving, your feet carrying you swiftly towards the bar's entrance.

“Changbin!” You called as you tried to catch up, pushing through the double doors out into the parking lot where you saw Changbin getting onto his motorcycle. “Binnie!! Hey!” Changbin paused, his hand on the motorcycle's handlebar, and turned to face you. His expression was a mix of surprise and something unreadable as you approached, slightly out of breath. The parking lot lights cast long shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles that time had carved into his features.

"Y/n, don't call me that. You lost that privilege years ago." His words cut through the air, sharp and cold. You flinched, feeling the weight of time and unresolved emotions between you. Changbin's eyes, once so warm and full of love, now held a guarded look that made your heart ache.

It took you a moment to get the words out but you pushed through, “I know.. I just wanted to give you this.” You took a few short steps towards him. Grabbing his hand that rested on the handlebar and dug in your small bag for a pen. You wrote your number on his palm. Your fingers lingered for a moment, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you both. "I... I'd like to talk, if you're willing," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the rumble of his motorcycle. Changbin's expression remained unreadable, but you noticed a flicker of something - curiosity, perhaps, or longing - in his eyes.

“And I'll be in town for a week, doing some press and things. Text me or call sometime.. I know we have a lot to catch up on, and... I'd like to clear the air between us if possible." You paused, searching Changbin's face for any sign of receptiveness. His jaw clenched, but he didn't immediately reject the idea. Taking a deep breath, you added softly, "I've missed you. More than you know."

Changbin looked down at the number messily scrawled onto his hand and without another word he revved his bike to life. The engine roared, drowning out any response he might have given. With one last lingering glance in your direction, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions, he kicked the stand and peeled out of the parking lot. You watched his retreating form disappear into the night, the red glow of his taillights fading into the distance, leaving you alone with the weight of unspoken words and the faint hope of reconciliation.

🥀

The next day you had suffered through three boring and mundane interviews and now you were getting your make up and hair done for a Versace photo shoot. It was an honor of course but, you still felt so caged. Not to mention your mind kept drifting back to Changbin. Your thoughts swirled with memories of his intense gaze, the familiar rumble of his motorcycle, and the electricity that had sparked between you when your fingers touched. As you sat in the makeup chair, you found yourself wondering if he would call or text. The anticipation was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, making it difficult to focus on the glamorous world around you.

🥀

A few hours later the shoot had come to an end. Just as you were changing out of the gorgeous clothes you got to wear your phone buzzed. You fumbled with your bag trying to get it out as fast as you could. An unknown number popped up. You clicked on the message: You want to talk? I’ll be at the hotel around 10 to pick you up.” You automatically knew it was Changbin. Your finger hovered over the keys unsure of what to say so you just settled on: Okay, see you then.

Your manager burst into the dressing room, startling you and nearly causing you to drop your cell phone. "You did an amazing job, Y/n," she praised. "There's a party you need to attend tonight, so we've got to get going." SHe motioned for you to follow her out. As you settled into the black SUV that would take you back to your hotel, your mind raced with anticipation. You weren't just getting ready for a party—you were preparing to meet your long-lost love.

🥀

A couple of hours later, you stood in ripped jeans, a dark red lacy bralette, and your favorite baggy jean jacket. Your eyes lingered on the deep blue sequined dress you were supposed to wear to the party tonight. Your manager would be pissed... your company would be furious... but who cares? You deserved a little fun—a little adventure. Glancing at your phone, you saw it was ten minutes until Changbin's arrival. Your heart raced with anticipation.

You snatched your bag and cast a final glance in the mirror, your stomach aflutter with a cocktail of excitement and nerves. As you strode towards the door, a smile played on your lips at the thought of reuniting with Changbin. The familiar rush of defiance surged through you as you stepped into the hallway, ready to embrace whatever adventures the night held.

You took the stairwell to avoid any potential run ins with the staff or your manger. You let out a heavy sigh of relief once you were outside. The night air was warm and heavy with the sent of rain. You scanned the parking lot, your eyes searching for any sign of Changbin's motorcycle. Your heart skipped a beat when you finally spotted it, parked near the edge of the lot. As you approached, you saw him leaning against the bike, his dark silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of a streetlight.

Changbin's eyes met yours as you drew closer, his gaze intense and unreadable. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. As you reached him, he wordlessly handed you a helmet, the gesture both familiar and strange after all these years apart. “You’re not going to put it on me? Like old times?” You were only half joking but, a part of you hoped he would do it again. It’s something you had always missed.

Changbins eyebrows drew together in an annoyed scowl, "Pretty sure you can do that on your own. You're a smart girl." He said gruffly as he put his own helmet on and straddled his bike. You felt a pang of disappointment at his cold response, but quickly pushed it aside. Swallowing your pride, you slipped the helmet on and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, your arms hesitantly wrapping around Changbin's waist. The familiar warmth of his body against yours brought back a flood of memories, both sweet and painful.

As the engine roared to life, you tightened your grip instinctively, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. Changbin kicked off, and the world around you blurred into a tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind whipped against your body, carrying with it the scent of leather and gasoline, a nostalgic reminder of countless nights spent racing through the city streets together.

His body had changed, more muscular and taut than you remembered, yet the way he leaned into the curves of the road was achingly familiar. You found yourself unconsciously matching his movements, your bodies in sync as you navigated the city streets. The contradiction of new and old, strange and familiar, sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

All too quickly his bike slowed down, coming to a stop outside what looked like a dilapidated hotel. As Changbin killed the engine, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The building loomed before you, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the sleek modernity of your hotel. You hesitated for a moment, wondering what secrets this place held and why Changbin had brought you here.

Once his bike was turned off you you both were on your feet again you could hear the faint thump of loud music coming from somewhere inside the building. "Why are we here?" You asked more curious than you should be. Changbin's lips curled into a hint of a smile, the first you'd seen all night. "You wanted to talk, didn't you? Well, this is where I do my talking." He jerked his head towards the entrance, his eyes challenging you to follow. The pulsing beat grew louder as you approached, and you felt a familiar thrill of excitement mixed with apprehension.

The place was packed with people dancing, talking as they leaned up against the walls. There were people sitting in the stairwells making out, some were snorting some kind of white substance. You smelled alcohol and weed in the air as well. The scene was a sensory overload, a pulsating mass of bodies and vices that both thrilled and unnerved you. As you followed Changbin deeper into the crowd, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was clearly his world now, raw and uninhibited, so different from the polished veneer of your current life.

You grabbed onto Changbins thick arm, worried you may get lost in the sea of people. “What is this place?!” You yelled over the music. “I love it!” Changbin glanced back at you, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "It's called The Underground," he shouted back, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass. "It's where people come to forget about the world outside." He led you through the writhing crowd, his hand finding yours in the chaos, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

There was a room towards the back, there was no door but a dark crimson curtain separating this room from the crowd. He held the curtain open for you and you stepped inside, your eyes adjusting to the dimmer lighting. The room was smaller, more intimate, with plush velvet couches lining the walls and a few low tables scattered about. A handful of people lounged on the sofas, engaged in hushed conversations or lost in their own worlds. Changbin guided you to an empty couch in the corner, his hand on the small of your back sending shivers up your spine.

Just as you settled down on the couch a few people came up greeting Changbin with handshakes and slaps on the back. “Who’s your friend?” A very pretty blond guy with a scattering of freckles across his face asked. His eyes dancing with curiosity as he looked down at you. “Uh, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Felix.” Changbin half heartedly introduced you to him. As Felix shook your hand his eyes grew wide with recognition. “Wait! Y/n?! The Y/n?!” Felix deep voice grew louder causing other curious eyes to look over at the commotion he was causing.

You blushed and nodded with a soft smile. "Hey Chan, Minho! Come here!" You glanced over at Changbin who was rolling his eyes and turning away. Two more guys approached, their eyes widening as they recognized you. Chan, a handsome man with curly hair, extended his hand with a warm smile. "It's an honor to meet you, Y/n. We've heard so much about you." Minho, standing beside him, nodded in agreement, his cat-like eyes sparkling with interest.

You cocked your head to the side and glanced over at Changbin again.. he talked about me? Or do they just know me from being a public figure? The question burned in your mind as you caught Changbin's eye, noticing a flicker of discomfort cross his face. Before you could dwell on it further, Felix's enthusiastic voice cut through your thoughts.

"Oh man, Changbin used to talk about you all the time! He'd go on and on about—" Felix's words were abruptly cut off as Changbin elbowed him sharply in the ribs, shooting him a warning glare. Chan seemed to notice Changbins discomfort and tugged on Felix’s shirt. “Come on, we have work to do. See you later Bin. Nice to meet you, again.” He nodded in your direction. Changbin's eyes narrowed as he watched his friends leave, a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment evident on his face. As silence fell between you two, the air grew thick with unspoken words and lingering questions. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly Changbin had said about you to his friends, and why he seemed so uncomfortable about it now.

"So… you wanted to talk?" Changbins harsh eyes turned their full attention to you, his gaze intense and unwavering. You felt your heart rate quicken under his scrutiny, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through your veins. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the conversation you'd been both longing for and dreading since you first saw him again.

“I..” you began but then closed your mouth trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry. I know the way I ended things was unfair to you. I was young and scared, and I didn't handle it well. I've regretted it ever since." You paused, searching Changbin's face for any reaction. His expression remained unreadable, but you could see a flicker of something - pain, perhaps? - in his eyes. "I've missed you," you admitted softly, your voice barely audible over the muffled music from outside.

You didn't expect Changbin to except your apology right away but, you didn't expect the words the came out of his mouth. "You're not fucking sorry." His voice was low and harsh, laced with a bitterness that made you flinch. "You left me without a second thought, and now you think you can just waltz back into my life with a half-assed apology?" Changbin's eyes burned with an intensity that both frightened and captivated you, his words cutting through the air like shards of glass.

You tore your eyes from his, “No.. I don’t think I’ll ever see you again after tonight. I just know I needed to say that to you. And to say.. I never stopped loving you.” You kept your eyes on the ground in front of you for a while longer. Unable to look him in the eyes as you said those words. “It looks like you’re doing… well for yourself.” You finally looked up at his handsome face. “Although.. you’re very different than the boy I once knew.”

Changbin's jaw clenched at your words, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else? He leaned in closer, his voice low and intense. "You don't know anything about me anymore, Y/n. The boy you knew? He's long gone." His words hung heavy in the air between you, charged with unspoken emotions and years of unresolved feelings.

You couldn't help it.. one thing that hadn't changed between you two. Is when he pushed, you pushed back harder. "Then show me who you are now." Your eyes locked with his, a challenge burning in your gaze. Changbin's expression shifted, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. Without warning, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him. His grip was firm but not painful, his lips only a whisper from yours. “I don’t think you could handle who I am now.. I don’t fit into your perfect world, Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the tension between you palpable. Despite your better judgment, you found yourself leaning into him, drawn by the magnetic pull of his intensity. "Maybe I don't want to fit into that perfect world anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the muffled bass from the other room. Changbin's eyes darkened, a mix of surprise and desire flickering across his face.

Changbins hand let go of your wrist, his dark brown eyes still locked on yours as his hands gripped onto your waist nearly pulling you into his lap. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, little girl. My world is no joke.” His grip tightened, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you even closer. The heat of his body radiated through your clothes, igniting a fire within you that you thought had long since been extinguished. "You have no idea what you're asking for," Changbin growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Your eyes drifted from his intense stare to his plump lips, “I think I can handle it.” Your voice came out hushed and breathy. Your heart raced as you felt the tension between you reach a fever pitch. Without warning, Changbin closed the remaining distance, his lips crashing against yours in a searing kiss. The world around you faded away as you melted into his embrace, your fingers tangling in his hair as years of pent-up longing and desire poured out between you.

The kiss depended as he moved to push you back on the couch, his large body covering yours. His narrow hips settling easily between yours and you could feel is very hard cock beneath his clothes. His hands roamed your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touched. You arched into him, desperate for more contact, more friction. The rational part of your mind screamed that this was dangerous, that you were in a public place, but the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins drowned out all reason.

Changbin's lips traced a fiery path down your neck, his hot breath sending shivers cascading down your spine. You gasped as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The world around you melted away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of his touch and the thunderous pounding of your heart. As he lavished attention on your neck, your eyes fluttered open, suddenly remembering your surroundings. Some people were watching, their gazes a mixture of curiosity and desire. A rush of excitement mingled with embarrassment flooded through you. The thrill of being observed only intensified your desire, making your body respond even more fervently to Changbin's touch. You couldn't help but wonder if this was part of his world now—this raw, uninhibited display of passion that both exhilarated and terrified you.

Just as Changbin's hands found their way under your shirt, slowly lifting it up and over your bare chest, you suddenly came to your senses. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of your breast, sending shivers down your spine. But as the reality of the situation hit you, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. You gently placed your hand on Changbin's chest, pushing him back slightly as you caught your breath. "Changbin, let's stop."

Changbin pulled back, his eyes searching yours with a mix of confusion and frustration. The sudden shift in atmosphere was palpable, the heat between you cooling rapidly. You sat up, adjusting your clothes and trying to catch your breath. The reality of where you were and what you were doing came crashing down, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Changbin ran his tongue over his lips, savoring your lingering taste. He was breathless, his eyes still dark with desire. "I knew you couldn't handle it," he said, his voice husky and challenging.

Changbin's words stung, but you couldn't deny their truth. You weren't ready for his world—not yet. The realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, smothering the last embers of desire that had burned so brightly moments ago. You stood up, smoothing down your clothes and trying to regain your composure. His eyes followed your every movement. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

His voice was low, almost challenging. You turned to face him, your heart still racing from the intensity of what had just transpired. "I'm going to find someone I can handle," you said, your tone sharp with defiance. As you moved towards the curtain, you felt the weight of Changbin's gaze on your back—a mix of disappointment and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

As you slipped through the curtain, the club's pulsing music crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning out the echoes of your encounter with Changbin. The vibrant lights and writhing bodies stood in stark contrast to the intimate darkness you'd just left behind. Your eyes swept across the crowd, searching for a distraction—someone, anyone, who could help you forget the lingering taste of Changbin's lips and the inferno he'd ignited within you.

There, you spotted a striking man with dark hair streaked with white-blonde. He swayed to the music, his infectious smile lighting up his face. A taller, baby-faced guy stood beside him. Your eyes lingered on the handsome dancer, drawn to his carefree energy. Without hesitation, you made your way through the crowd towards them, determined to lose yourself in the pulsing rhythm and the company of someone new.

As you approached, you noticed his deep dimples as he smiled widely. "Hey! Wanna dance?" you asked without hesitation, hoping Changbin was watching. You weren't trying to make him jealous, but you were determined to show him you weren't some pathetic little girl. The handsome man turned to you, his dimples deepening as his smile widened. "Sure thing!" he shouted over the music, already moving to the rhythm. A rush of excitement coursed through you as he took your hand, leading you further onto the dance floor.

"What's your name?" you shouted, leaning closer to him. The scent of cologne and cigarettes wafted from him—an intoxicating combination that drew you in. "I'm Jeongin!" he yelled back, his warm breath tickling your ear. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and a hint of mischief as he asked, "And you are?" "Y/n!" you responded. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, but he didn't comment further.

You and Jeongin danced for a while, gradually moving closer without quite touching until he placed his hands low on your hips. His touch was warm, but you felt little in response. As you swayed to the music, your mind drifted back to Changbin—the intensity of his touch still lingering on your skin. You tried to focus on Jeongin's friendly smile, but the comparison was inevitable.

Just as Jeongin began pulling you closer, his lean body pressing firmly against yours, someone suddenly yanked you out of his hold. In an instant, Changbin materialized between you and Jeongin, his muscular frame taut with anger. His dark eyes blazed with possessive fury as he glared at Jeongin, one hand gripping your arm tightly. "She's with me," Changbin snarled, his voice low and dangerous, brooking no argument.

"No—" you began, but were cut off as Changbin hoisted you over his shoulder. "I thought friends shared!" Jeongin called out, his tone playful and clearly not serious. "Not this one," Changbin growled before turning and carrying you off. You squirmed in his grasp, trying to break free. "What the hell? Where are we going?" you shouted over the pulsing music.

Changbin's grip only tightened on your body. "To teach your bratty ass a lesson," he growled.

Tagging all the tags I have because I lost my separate lists. So idk who wanted to be tagged in what… I’m sorry!! But please comment if you were someone who only wanted to be tagged in only one members posts! Thank you!

@supernovanetwork @cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @shecheatedwithme @antisocialties @akaligogrrr @nicolparadis @thisaintredwine @rose-w-00-d @jisuperboard @heavenlyangelic @dessianna1 @velvetmoonlght @kayleefriedchicken

[sosaysdean]

get over here lets party :3

[saffitaffi]

“What if the evil tyrant who likes to kill puppies for fun actually just needed to fall in love with a sweet naive child who redeems them through the power of love and they were actually good the whole ti-“

What if they weren’t, though? What if their life twisted them to the point that they can only love through violence?

What if the narrative doomed them to ever play their role, a role that has already been chosen by forces higher than them?

What if the sweet, gentle character didn’t love them ‘despite their flaws’, or even at all?

Why should they? Especially if it’s a case of kidnapping. ESPECIALLY if they hurt them. Or their friends. Or take away their agency.

What if that strange contradiction of love and hatred in their heart tore them apart and gave them their justified end?

What if they CAN’T be fixed?

What if they don’t WANT to be fixed?

What if we stopped glamorizing abusive relationships and started actually exploring them?

[zizzle2727]

writing dialogue for this dipshit of a man is about to make my head explode