#also the dress was HELL to finish lmao

[yet-happy]

Art request I made for a folk on Discord! (I got a tip :D)

Also pls reblog :3

Reference under cut⤵️

[inniave]

ABOVE ALL THINGS

SUFFERING,

GLORIFIED

[daydreaming-in-daisies]

my supervisor told us we can no longer eat at our desks and now I low-key wanna quit lol

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[starlightseraph]

finished dead boy detectives!!! (spoilers ahead!)

quick disclaimer: i haven’t gotten around to the comics yet but i’ve been very interested since the sandman came out and i do plan on reading them eventually lol.

- edwin is my new blorbo cutie and i too would go to hell for him. also, his style is immaculate, exactly how i want to dress all the time.

- i am SO sad about niko. but i’m glad that it seems like she’s not totally gone? i hope she’s not an antagonist in the next series (the ending was a touch ominous), but i’ll honestly be happy either way. it’s so rare to find good western-japanese characters. it made me incredibly happy when she switched into a japanese accent when saying “osaka” because it’s something i recognise in my family and in me. i know people from lots of different backgrounds do that with words from their own languages, but i’d never seen a japanese character do it before so i was very tickled.

- charles. man. please fall in love with edwin. how tf are you quite literally dragging him out of hell and he confesses to you and you look him in the eyes and say that you love him but you’re not in love with him. i mean that’s the best possible way he could’ve gone about it, but if i were edwin i might just have gone back down to the doll face spider thing.

- i hope that crystal’s past doesn’t land her in jail or anything. i really like her dynamic with the others but i’m not sold on her and charles romantically, mostly because edwin is so fucking sweet and i don’t want his heart to be broken. he’ll be happy if charles is happy, but i cannot stand see him get hurt even the tiniest bit.

- jenny is amazing. she’s literally me fr. also i love how she just hands people cleavers.

- i found the night nurse’s breakdown when she was in angie’s stomach very relatable. i feel like that a lot lmao. and i love her accent. i will go to bat for my own weird ass culchie irish/valley girl hybrid, but if had to pick another accent…

- i need a wise and eternal south asian man to talk me down from the ledge. it’s almost finals week and a ring from kashina would be a big help.

- tragic mick (top tier wordplay name) is a sweetheart and i hope he gets to be a walrus again eventually. my first reaction when i saw the cat king was “oh my god, it’s the piss kink guy from You!” but that aside, he was ok in the end. so was monty. i hope the night nurse can help crystal drag david the demon back down to hell.

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. two (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 14k (i'm so sorry).

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drunk behavior, mature language, petty behavior, insults, hwang hyunjin and hwang yeji cameos omg, yunho being a misunderstood puppy i fear, yunho and reader really hate each other but not so much anymore, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, mention of panic attacks/panic disorder, no smut on this part but so, so, so much tension oh god these two idiots.

NOTES: hi everyone! so, sorry for almost taking a month to finish the next part of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! i also forgot to mention before that gunho is older in this universe bc i think he's younger than yunho irl?? i'm not sure bc i don't look into their families like that lmao. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: october 12th 2024.

masterlist - part one - part three.

Yunho has never been more stressed in his entire life. 

It's easy to tell and it's an issue for you. When it's evident someone is not comfortable, that's when the vipers get together and organize their attacks. 

And right now, he's your date for the night, so you can't really let that happen. 

The gala is breathtaking, as expected. The room is lit with fairy lights all around the roof and they mimic stars. It's the theme of the night and the beautiful dresses and suits everyone is wearing it's enough to let you know both your mother and Yunho’s mom kindly threaten everyone to follow their delusions as well. 

It looks like a very expensive prom and it's pretty but you hate it. Maybe because of the overall situation you went through today or your lack of sleep but you hate it. 

Or maybe it's the amount of eyes you have on you tonight. Twice the usual amount, if the warmth on the back of your neck is any indication of how much people are gossiping about you and Yunho right now. 

When you walked in half an hour ago, Yunho on your arm, everyone went silent as you said your hellos and went to your assigned seats. 

And then the murmurs started to fill the room slowly until they became unbearable and, eventually, you started to acclimate to them, like you always do. 

Yunho is a completely different story. It shows that he's not used to this, the fidgeting of his feet and his leg going up and down and bouncing the table cloth on both his and your leg triggers something that only causes further annoyance.

You're seated (just the two of you, because your brother and his are at a completely different table for some reason) at one of the main tables, near the stage where a talented kid who, you're sure, is the son of one of your father's friends, is playing the violin beautifully and you can't even focus on that because Yunho keeps sighing like he doesn't want to be here. 

Now, you know he must definitely would rather be doing anything else but, like you told him before, he agreed to this so he has to start fucking owning it. 

Leaning in, you curl your lips up in feign sweetness and discreetly place your hand over his leg “You need to stop that before someone notices it.” 

Head snapping back at you, he leans in as well and blinks a few times “How would anyone not—”

“They will,” you assure him, smile never leaving your lips and you hear as the people around you start to clap their hands for the end of the performance “Now clap and hold your breath because my mother has been itching to get on that stage.” 

Leaning back, you get to clap for a few seconds before the commotion dies down and then, just as you predicted, your mom gets on the stage. 

You don't even turn to see Yunho’s reaction at all but you do hear him clapping for your mom once everyone starts clapping too. 

“What an spectacular opening act that was,” she points to the various musicians that filled that half hour of snobbery and you try to repress how much you want to cringe at that. Your mother never really cared for the arts at all “I want to thank you all for attending…” 

Her voice fades into the background as you zone out, like you always do. The way of coping with the long, long events you're forced to attend to has always been zoning out and letting your body do the work for you. 

You clap, you smile, you bow and react accordingly like a robot that has been programmed to do so. Like an extra in a movie who gains the attention of the audience because someone always comments on your appearance, your posture or a specific expression you made at a random moment of the evening. 

Magazines, papers and social media users who don't have anything better to do are always that audience you strike to appeal to. That has always been your job, that's why your mom is using you to try and restore the image of Jeong Tech, too. 

The people outside of the tinsel circle love you, the people inside of it pretend to love you and everyone gets their end of the deal at your expense. 

You feel kind of bad that Yunho got to experience life outside of it and now it's being dragged by his mother to the eye of the hurricane, where everything it's mostly silent until it's not. There’s this question on the tip of your tongue, this curiosity nagging at you since earlier today. 

After witnessing the hurt on his face and the indifference to his feelings displayed by his mother, you can only come to the conclusion you got their relationship wrong all these years. 

The safe detachment you felt for him is suddenly teetering the dangerous line of interest you’ve always drawn in between you and it’s enough for you to feel bad when you turn to see him and catch him forcing a soft smile that, to everyone else, might seem genuine. 

But you know him better than that. At least, you know his mannerisms well enough to not be fooled by it. Even if you didn’t know his true feelings about tonight, about what’s about to happen now that you hear your mother utter your dad’s name to introduce him and bring him to the podium, you wouldn’t be fooled by it. 

There’s another round of applause for your father that you barely follow because, you suddenly notice, you’ve been a little too entranced by Yunho for a few seconds too long. Turning to the man who’s partly responsible for your headache tonight, you catch his speech exactly where you’re supposed to. 

“... And thanks to them, we’re positioned in a place where we can help new companies navigate and grow in a market that’s typically eager to chew and spit them out. When I first came up with the idea of Kim Innovation, there was one man who stood beside me as I presented it to the board. My best friend and someone who, barely a few years later, came up with the idea of revolutionizing the tech industry as a whole, please welcome…” 

Sometimes, you wonder if your dad loves Yunho’s dad more than he ever loved you, your brother or your mom. Turning to Soohyun, he sends you a smile and a look that hints to you that he’s probably thinking the same thing. It takes a lot for you to not giggle but the smile that curves the corners of your lips is somewhat genuine for the first time since you sat down. 

Hell, for the first time today. 

There’s cheers on a closeby table and you don’t have to turn to know it’s Yunho’s mom. She might truly love that man, which is a lot considering they did to her what she’s doing to her son. 

Arranged and married off. You never considered actually falling in love before but falling in love with the man who was cherry picked for you sounds like an actual nightmare. 

Thank God that’s not a possibility when it comes to Yunho.��

Again, your selective hearing works wonders because you are able to straighten your spine and prepare for the part of the speech that actually matters to you: “... And now we’re even blessed with the chances of our family remaining bonded forever. I’m sure you all noticed our youngest walking in together, huh?” The room makes an amused noise and you shake your head at your dad, pretending to be playfully ashamed by the call out “It’s impossible not to when they look so good together. We wanted to let everyone know tonight instead of announcing it through a notice or the press. But I'm blessed to call Jeong Yunho, the future of blockchain engineering and cybersecurity at Jeong Tech, my son in law. Yunho, you have always been like a son to me, so I trust you to take care of my dear daughter’s heart long enough to see my dreams of officially bringing our families together come to life.” 

You want to gag at the thought. You want to cry and scream and beg everyone to see right through this lie but everyone erupts in cheers for the fake relationship you’re officially in so the only thing you can do is force yourself to think about something that makes you blush and turn to Yunho to pretend you’re moved by your father’s words. 

Only to find him already staring at you with the same artificial emotion. There’s an understanding in his eyes that you think might show on yours as well and he hesitates a little before grabbing your hand in his hand over the table, visible for everyone. 

Your heart doesn’t skip a beat, your stomach doesn’t flutter with butterflies but instead drops at the oh’s, ah’s and aw’s you hear around you. When his father takes the microphone from your father’s hands and you’re sure the image of you both is no longer on the screen placed above the stage, you lower your hands under the cloth. 

He squeezes yours before harshly letting go and you open and close your palm to get a grip on yourself so you can endure the rest of the speeches with a smile. 

Your brother and Yunho’s brother take the stage for what it feels like another fifteen minutes and after that they announce that dinner is about to be served in five and to enjoy the rest of the gala and the music and the acts for the rest of the night as they step down, so you take the opportunity to get up. 

Looking at you like a child that’s about to be abandoned at the grocery store line, Yunho gets up as well “Where are you going?” 

“To get a drink,” you return immediately with a kind smile that’s far from honest and lean in a little for only him to hear you “Notice how the only thing they’ve been bringing us is water? That’s my mom’s doing,” taking a few steps into the drink table, you turn to him over your shoulder and speak a little louder this time “Want anything, babe?” 

It looks like it takes a lot from him to not grimace at the nickname and you internally laugh but your fun dies as soon as he takes your hand and pulls you to the table himself “I’m coming with you, there’s an old lady that has been staring at me for the past twenty minutes and I’m scared.” 

Feeling overwhelmed by the sudden physical intimacy you both are displaying, it takes a few bits for you to answer. At the table, you grab a champagne flute and try to have some self control but end up downing half in one gulp “Ah, grandma Park. You might know her granddaughter Sooyoung,” looking at him, he stops sipping at the own flute he got ahold of and shakes his head. You sigh in disappointment, now that no one is close enough to hear you “Of course you don’t. She’s pretty and one of the only genuine girls I know. I can get you her number after this whole sham is done.”

“Y/N, I don’t want you to play cupid for me. In fact, I don’t want to hear from you once we break up,” he nudges you softly with his arm and the look you send in his direction makes him groan a little. You both know there’s not a chance in hell of that happening but wishful thinking never hurt anyone “You know, I—”

A voice behind you both interrupts him and you close your eyes tightly when you recognize it right away. 

“Well if it isn’t the it couple of the month,” as you turn, the Hwang siblings smile at you with what you can only recognize as mischievous delight. Yeji is exclusively staring at Yunho and Hyunjin’s eyes move from your date to you before he chuckles like he knows something no one else does “I couldn’t say I saw it coming but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless, wasn’t it, Yeji?” 

His sister ignores him. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I know Y/N, of course, who doesn’t,” she giggles and your smile tenses a bit, so you hide it behind your glass and gulp the other half of the flute down “But we’ve been missing each other a lot, mister Jeong.” 

“It seems like you know him well enough,” you half-heartedly joke and her brother smiles at you with a complicity you don’t really want “Yunho, this is Hwang Yeji and this is her brother, Hwang Hyunjin. I am sure you know their father, he owns HW Records.” 

“Yes, of course. Huge fan of his artists,” he says with such kindness you might actually start to believe him and then he bows a little “It’s a pleasure.” 

“The pleasure is all mine!” Yeji returns brightly and batting her fake lashes. She’s so pretty, you think, but that doesn’t really work in your favor when it’s blatantly obvious she’s flirting with who is supposed to be your boyfriend. 

Yunho notices it too, because his hand moves to your back and he takes a step closer to you. 

Hyunjin’s brow arches a bit as he takes his actions in and then there’s that glint in his eyes, the one you see on mean people when they secure a target to bother for the day. Because that’s exactly what he intends to do “I have to say, Y/N, I didn’t think you had a taste for… Humble men.” 

Without outright saying it, you know he’s challenging you. He’s testing whatever you have with Yunho because he’s a smart, privileged and cunning little shit and, as soon as he sees a crack on the foundation of your lie, he’s going to run his mouth. 

You can’t let that happen. Knowing he suspects something else is going on pisses you off because it means you’re not doing something right and you hate losing. 

Pretending you're confused, you furrow your brows a bit before chuckling “Is that not something to look for in a partner?” 

“I was never expecting you to come public with a relationship in the first place,” he says, hands behind his back and not-so-innocent smile on his lips. Then, he looks Yunho up and down with squinted eyes “But I was certainly not expecting you to come forward with someone who chooses public education over private, for example. Should I take this as a hint that you're furthering your education in a private school, Yunho?” 

He's trying to strike a nerve and you pray Yunho is smart enough to catch him in the act. Turning to him, your smile doesn't waver as you wait for his answer.

Taking a deep breath, he lets it out while he answers, forcing himself to smile “It’s not in my plans, no.” 

“But Y/N did… It just doesn't really make any sense, does it, Yeji?” 

Snapping out of whatever spell Yunho's presence got her in, she shrugs “No, it doesn't. Private schools are better and you don't mingle with people whose connections are useless for your future.” 

Immediately, you can tell that's what their parents told her. An easy way to fool the dummy into perpetuating their status. It's pitiful and, quite honestly, infuriating. 

“Useless for your future,” her brother repeats with a nod “That's an interesting way of putting it, isn't it? Kind, even,” they both nod and you swear your eye twitches a little “Really, Y/N, I have to give it to you. You always end up surprising me one way or another.” 

Yeji joins right after “You have a lot of status, girl! It's really inspiring that you can overlook such a big difference in your relationship,” she says, like she's not trying to jump Yunho’s bones “I'm cheering for you guys!” 

That does it. Is not the blatant classism or the fact that they are deliberately trying to get under your skin but it is the fact that neither of them has any actual indication your relationship with Yunho is fake. Meaning, they're trying to mess with your family intentionally. 

Because you might hate Yunho as much as he hates you but he's still, somewhat, family. 

“The last time I checked Yunho is the son of the owner of one—If not! The best cyber security company in the country,” you start, kind tone slipping right through the cracks and you hope they take it as a I had enough of you making fun of my man instead of what it truly is “A company he's going to work for if he wants to because you got, what?” you turn to Yunho, who's staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face “Two, three badges and one trailblazer award already? For that program you helped develop your second year?” he nods and your smile comes back when you turn to the siblings “And he hasn't even graduated yet! But I'm sure you didn't know that, did you?” 

Yeji blinks like you just spoke in a foreign language and Hyunjin’s smugness has disappeared completely. 

“You didn't know it because he's humble enough to not parade around like he owns the place, which… He kind of does,” it's your turn to shrug before turning around and placing the flute down back on the table “Oh! By the way, Hyunjin, I heard you placed second on that competition last month,” pouting you make a show of truly pretending you're sorry for him “That really shows us that it doesn't really matter if you go to a private music school or that your dad is a great producer, we can't always come on top, hm?” 

It's a petty and middle-schooled argument but you simply don't care. If people target Yunho, they're now targeting you as well.

And you can't stand when people like them try to stomp you to the ground. 

Hyunjin is about to retaliate but you turn to Yunho quickly, a different glint in his eyes now “Dinner is late, isn't it? Well, we better take the opportunity and go for that dance you promised me, babe,” seemingly tongue-tied, he only manages to nod “It was lovely to talk to you two, as usual.” 

When you drag Yunho to the dancefloor, where there's only a few old couples you recognize and he probably doesn't, it feels like you can breathe a little bit more. 

If you're being honest with yourself, you would really like to scream and pierce a hole through a wall with your fist. Your chest isn't heaving but the sensation it normally brings spreads around your body and it takes over as you secure your arms around Yunho’s neck and start swaying to the sound of an… Ed Sheeran cover? You're not really sure, you're not paying that much attention either. 

“I swear I could kill them,” you mutter under your breath and that finally jolts your dance partner back to reality, because he looks at you like he can't believe you defended him and holds your waist softly, at a safe distance, a little unsure on why you brought him to dance “They're so useless, living off their daddy’s money and gloating.” 

Yunho chuckles “I think you might hate them more than me.” 

Squinting your eyes at him, his joke does little to quiet down your anger “Don't be jealous, Yunho, you still hold the first place for most annoying human being in my heart.” 

He doesn't seem to mind the insult “You didn't have to do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Go off on them because they were trying to bring me down,” he whispers “Or bring me to the dancefloor, either, we could've just walked off, I mean… You're not good at this.” 

“We went to the same ballroom classes, Yunho, we've danced before,” you remind him, rolling your eyes a bit “And I had to defend you because you weren't saying anything back.” 

“Because I don't really care what they think, Y/N,” he explains softly and you gulp as your eyes roam around his face. You prefer when he's screaming at you, insulting you even. This soft, fake mask he puts on whenever he's in public makes you forget who he truly is: the annoying kid who played with worms on your first playdate “And you shouldn't, either. They were clearly trying to pick up a fight.”

“No, they weren't,” you hate that your experience in these types of situations is shining so much but Yunho seems clueless even if he just firsthand experienced what you tend to experience with the circle you move in “They weren't picking a fight, they were trying to catch us in a lie.” 

“How would they know we're lying, Y/N?” he sounds a little exasperated as he steps softly to the beat, moving you with him. 

“Because they know how this world works. Not your world, not your friends' world, but my world.” 

“Your world it's the same exact one as mine,” he counters quickly, getting a little annoyed judging by his tone “There's truly not much of a difference—” 

“I'm glad that at least you got to experience what ninety nine percent of the world's population experiences, Yunho, but you got away from it and forgot everything about what goes on in here,” moving your head carefully, you signal to the gala and the attendees “I need you to remember highschool and everything that you lived there: The falseness, the appearances and the cliques. The importance of money and grades and education, of connections… It all matters here.” 

You shouldn't be instructing him. That's not really part of the deal and, at first, you thought he was faking aloofness out of spite. Now that he seems as confused as a free spirit being trapped in a glass bottle and put out for display, you feel the need to. 

So he doesn't drown you both. 

“Think of it as one big highschool where the wrong decision, the wrong response can get not only you but me and our families into great trouble.”

As the song ends and everyone claps for the performer, he lets out a sigh “I hate this.” 

“It's your life now,” you remind him and that sorry feeling stirs up inside you as well. You're not one to regret decisions but it does sting a little that you didn't fight more for your stance on this fake relationship. It makes you dizzy and so you take a step away from his barely there embrace as you see the food trays start to make an appearance through the doors “I need to go to the bathroom.” 

“I'll go with you.” 

“To the bathroom?” 

“I don't want to—” 

Sighing, you step closer again and bring your hand to his cheek, thumb caressing the skin there roughly and plastic smile on your lips “Go and bother our brothers. I'm not fucking babysitting you, Yunho, you were born first so you're technically older than me.” 

He pouts for a second and you pinch the skin on his cheek condescendingly. When he notices, his jaw clenches and you smile in victory. 

“Witch.” 

“Grown ass baby.” 

You hear him mumble a whatever under his breath when you turn around and head to the bathroom to get yourself together and hopefully get through the rest of the night without any newfound and unnecessary drama. 

Locked in a stall, you make sure to delete all social media apps. With the speech your dad gave tonight, there will be more speculation now than ever. You can already see the headlines and it draws a sigh out of you because, well, you hate the press as much as the next nepotism baby out there but, most importantly, you hate that the media reads your character wrong. 

No, not wrong. The press usually gets the manufactured part of your personality, one that has become a part of you after all these years of perfecting it. People on social media, though? They read you wrong. 

You hate being misinterpreted. Your mom once said that it was a blessing because then the people who actually know who you are will be the ones closest to you. 

And that's yet to be seen. 

If the earlier encounter with the Hwangs gives away anything, is the fact that you don't actually get to be yourself around anyone ever. 

Except your brother. 

And Yunho. 

The thought of Yunho being one of the few people who know you the best brings a shiver down your spine for the second time today. 

Yunho?!

You should consider making actual friends. That's so sad. 

Not sadder than the way you freeze when you stand up and try to reach for the stall lock. Voices echo through the bathroom and it only takes you a quick second to realize who it is. 

“Yeah, I genuinely don't know who the fuck she think she is,” Yeji’s voice is not the sweet, dumb and whiny tone you are unfortunately forced to hear everytime you speak with her and it would startle you more if it weren't for the fact that she's talking shit about you on the phone “And she probably gets to kiss him tonight and every night from here on out. They were dancing together… In matching outfits! Girl, I know,” she complains, groaning a bit “Like I haven't been thirsting over Yunho’s fine ass for years.” 

Wanting to smack some sense into her again, you move your hand on the lock but she goes on with her babbling and that makes you stop again. 

“There’s absolutely no way they'll last. Not privately, at least. Have you seen her lately?” she scoffs and you hear something move, like makeup in a bag and you assume she's reapplying her lip gloss or something because you can barely hear what she says next. 

And you really, really wish you hadn't. 

“She can barely fit in that tight dress, the hair is getting old too. She's bo-ring,” breath getting caught in your throat, you look down on your dress and suddenly you can see on yourself what you normally see on the mirror “I don't know how but I'm totally getting his number tonight and when he gets to know me that's when he'll realize she's nothing but a kind-of-pretty face and money,” she giggles “I have to go back… Yup, love you, bye!” 

Heels clacking against the polished tiles of this pristine bathroom, you listen carefully until the door closes again and let out the shaky breath you've been holding in. 

What's sadder than Hwang fucking Yeji having a friend she can call to gossip in the middle of a function while you don't? 

Hwang fucking Yeji being able to cut through you with her words. 

Getting out of the stall, you make quick work of washing your hands and avoiding the mirror while you do it. You get out, the sound of cutlery softly hitting plates and fine conversation leaking through the main door that leads you back to the gala it's enough to make you gag a little. 

Like actually gag, the smell of food on top of passing by trays makes you gag. There's a waiter to your left with a tray full of champagne flutes, so you stop her with a genuine kind smile and take two from her. Thanking her, you turn to the door again and make sure nobody is looking in your direction. 

You need to get yourself together, so you make your run for it. Passing the main door in a dash, you walk up the stairs that surely would lead you to a room. 

You've been in this venue many times so the halls are familiar and the room you're aiming to is unlocked and with its lights on, like it's been waiting for you to find comfort in the mild emptiness of it. 

There's a big floor to ceiling arched window with white curtains drawn and a sill wide enough to be converted into a reading nook if someone from your circle actually cared to read and not gossip at an event like this. 

There's a table in the middle with a lovely white cloth covering the surface and a vase in the center of it. You never had a favorite flower, but foxtail orchids are beautiful and the pop of color they bring to every space usually brings you some sort of joy before you remember the significance of them. 

Love, beauty and strength. 

Three things you ardently wish you had but seem to lack. 

Luxury is usually attached to the meaning, fertility as well but the main significance of it does nothing but replay Yeji’s words in your head and you can't even enjoy the fucking flowers as you should right now. 

Moving to sit by the window, on its sill and with your back against the white fabric and the glass, you let your eyes close as you try and remind yourself the reason this event took place. Who you are, what you mean to the people downstairs and the duty you have to fulfill tonight all blend together into a big mush of junk inside your head and all you can see it's the flashes of the paparazzis and how awful you're going to look on those goddamn photos. 

Being mugged down by Jeong Yunho of all people. Fucking great. 

Circling back to him, your mind lands on the same thought you had before Yeji barged into the bathroom. Yunho knows you. 

Hell, he might've been your only actual friend. Even for a day, that first playdate in his backyard, but he probably was your first and only friend even if it ended before you two could make proper good memories together. 

That's so sad. 

Again, you should consider making actual friends. But yet again, you have to admit to yourself that there's no one that can understand you better than him and even then… 

He would never get it. He has a solid foundation, a bed he can fall onto at the end of the day, full with love, comprehension and genuine laughter, probably. 

You've been giving him shit all day for forgetting the world he was born into but now, as you take in a wannabe calming breath and then sip the sorrows away, you kind of wish you two would get along. 

Would he introduce you to his friends if you two actually liked each other? Not romantically, of course (because that's never going to happen), but would he, if you two were friends to begin with? Would you be accepted into their group? Would they make you feel an ounce loved and supported? Is that what Yunho feels when he's with them? 

What do they make him feel, exactly? 

“Ugh.” 

The alcohol is making you sappy instead of angrier. You should be angry. That's the only way of facing things here, in the real world, in the one you actually belong to. Instead, you just feel sad. 

You take a second to wonder again how he must be feeling right now. Leaving him all alone, you hope he at least got the sense in him to attach himself to his brother's hip or yours so someone can stop the vipers from getting to him and his pride. 

You know how easy it is to get his ego hurt by something so silly as insulting his choice of lifestyle, his detachment from this (to them) superior whirlwind of falseness and money. 

But, yet again, he didn't even attempt to defend himself earlier. It's conflicting and it confuses you a bit because… Why didn't that side of Yunho come out? The one who's so eager to back his choices up, the one who yelled at his mother back in your living room? 

Does he really don't care at all what people think of him? 

Must be a blessing, to have that side of you quiet and locked away. You don't have the same luck as him because, even now, as you chug the first flute down in an attempt to silence Yeji’s voice and drown out her words in your head, you know you care. 

You care, you care, you care. 

You care so much you try to hide the champagne behind the curtain when you hear footsteps approaching and the doorknob turns, heartbeat picking up because you definitely don't want to see your mother, your father, your brother or anyone right now. 

Only to reveal the current subject of your obsessive mind, with a plate on his hand and his eyebrows furrowed before his eyes focus on your form hiding behind the table. He's tall enough to see you all the way from the door (of course he is) and your shoulders deflate as you pull your drinks from behind their white haven. 

“Ah, it's just you.” 

He closes the door behind him, scoffing and pointing at the second glass next to you “Were you expecting someone?” 

“The grim reaper, maybe.” 

“My mom? Your mom?” He asks and it's funny but you don't laugh “Well, she's looking for you.” 

You straighten your back at that and take a gulp out of your flute “I've been gone ten minutes, what could possibly be so important for her to be looking for me?” 

“Something about a picture with the governor's grandson?” he shrugs “I didn't pay attention to her, I was fixing you a plate.” 

He offers the food and you sigh, shaking your head to reject his seemingly nice action. 

“And why would you do that?” He looks annoyed when your eyes scan his form and then he uses his chin to point towards the cup next to you and then the one that you elegantly raise to your lips before emptying it. 

“Is that your second or third? I don't remember how many you had at the main table earlier.” 

“I can handle my alcohol pretty well, Jeong.” 

Walking towards you, you take the hint and put the empty flute down on the floor, taking the second one and creating some space for him on the sill “Still, you should eat something.” 

“I’m not particularly hungry right now.” 

“Still…” He offers the plate again and you glance at the food in it. It’s some brown rice and chicken with steamed vegetables. It smells delicious but instead of desiring it, your physical reaction is to swallow a gag. 

“I'm good.” 

Scooting a little more to create more space in between you, you close your eyes again and gather some patience because the sigh he lets out tells you you're going to need it. 

Nothing happens. He doesn't say anything but you do hear the clanking on the fork against the plate and peel your eyes open so you can catch him eating the food that was supposed to be for you through the corner of your eye. 

It's always entertaining seeing how much of a foodie he is.

Instead, he's extending the utensil towards you with some food in it. 

“I'm going to ram that piece of asparagus so far up your—” 

“Okay, I give up,” the fork clanks against the plate again and he gets up momentarily to leave the plate on the table “Didn't really want to deal with your drunk ass tonight, but that's alright.” 

“You've never dealt with my drunk ass because I don't get drunk around you,” you turn to him, crossing your arms. Your back is against the window frame, the way it uncomfortably digs into your spine keeps you grounded “In fact, I don't even get drunk. Ever.”

He imitates your movements “You're such a liar.” 

“Am not.” 

“Yes, yes you are. Do I have to remind you of our graduation party?” 

“Do I have to remind you of our graduation party? I think you're projecting again.”

Especially when it was filled with drunken babbling and awkward energy, the one you can only tell is in the room by being kind-of-sober. 

Yunho was definitely gone and faded, texting with someone (a friend, you remember him saying) on his phone for most of the night and then something happened with said friend (again, his words not yours) so he took your drink from your hand and a bottle from the table and made out with three boys and two girls that night. 

Right in front of you. 

It was traumatic, really, because you never wondered how kissing him would feel until that night. 

And never again since then. 

Your special power, you want to tell him, is remembering every single time Jeong Yunho looked and felt like an actual human being around you. 

Like just now, for example. Getting you food and trying to feed it to you is not really something he Yunho you know would do. So… 

“What's gotten into you? Pity?” cutting right to the chase, your eyes move around his face to catch any movement that might give away that you're right “Because of what you saw this afternoon?” 

“Guilt. Because of what I did this afternoon,” he corrects and your eyebrow raises, his lips go into a thin line before a pout sets on it and you fix your stare on it before looking at his eyes again “You were asking me to stop yelling at you and I didn't listen.” 

You hate that. This. The sudden vulnerability and the thread it's starting to knit between the two of you. 

“That was going to happen regardless of you yelling or not,” you assure him, chugging the drink down and resting the flute next to the other one, on the floor “You don't have to worry about that or me.” 

“Of course I worry,” the softness in his tone is sickening. The way it tugs at your icy heart strings and threatens to break your walls down it's disgusting, so you turn to him with a scowl “I worry about you running your mouth about this… relationship.” 

You scoff out a chuckle “Oh, of course you suddenly worry about that,” nodding, your eyes shut closed again while a bitter and sarcastic smile curves your lips “The dirty little secret will always be safe with me, Yunho, don't pretend you don't know that. Even if you don't want to tell me the reason you came here tonight or the thing that made you not curse your mother for involving you in it, it's safe with me.” 

Yunho’s voice is stern and yet it sounds like a whisper away when he speaks again “Why are you doing it?” 

“Because it's my duty and I owe it to them,” you answer without missing a bit, a little matter of factly and all “What kind of question is that?” 

“No, it's not—”

“Yunho, it was clearly a question—” 

“No, dumbass, shut up for a second,” he lets out an exasperated breath and you look at him, very annoyed. “I'm saying that it's not really your duty.” 

“Yes, it is.”

He makes a face “Not really.” 

“Yes, really,” you push him with your hand on his shoulder and he barely moves “I know you're not familiar with gratefulness or anything close to that feeling but they really gave me everything I own and made me everything I am, Yunho.” 

Clicking his tongue, your fake boyfriend looks disappointed at your reply “They didn't give you your brain, that's for sure,” he murmurs, shrugging “Your intelligence is all yours.” 

“Well, they put me through the best schools and paid for my tuitions and tutors and programs and—” 

“Acquired knowledge and connections are meaningless when you're not smart enough to know what to do with them,” he says like he can't believe you would say that out loud “And you know what to do with them, Y/N.” 

Rendering you completely speechless, the only thing you manage to do is stare at him while your chest vaguely heaves and your mind twists and turns at his words. It strangely warms your heart that he thinks you can give yourself credit for your brains and, in normal circumstances, you would agree with him. 

But this is Yunho and you have to say something to antagonize him, right? 

“W-well, I—” 

“Oh, there you are!” 

Great, the grim reaper. 

It's a little pathetic how quick you stand up and try to cover up the flutes on the floor. Yunho gets up as well and your mother looks delighted to find you both in a room together but you're sure it's because it serves some kind of purpose in her agenda of delusions. 

“Good, you're here too. Yunho, dear, you've been splendid tonight. Did you like the suit?” your fake date nods and smiles a little and she looks satisfied with that “Good, good. I'm glad it fits you just right, not like…” her eyes land on you briefly and then go back to him “Well, not everyone has that privilege, hm?” 

“I'm sorry?” he asks and his tone lets you know he's actually a little taken aback by the sudden jab (you are too, not being used to your mother doing it in front of everyone else). 

It's also a little pathetic how quick you recoil when her eyes locate the plate on the table, untouched, but a plate of food is worse than ten bottles of alcohol in her eyes. 

“Oh, that's why the dress looks a little tight!” she says, condescendingly “Y/N, dear, have you been eating?” 

You feel it again. The stillness before the chaos, the way your body locks up in place and your mouth trembles with fury but it's unable to speak up, to tell her everything she needs to hear. 

Monster. Wench of a woman masquerading as a sadistic piece of—

“I-I haven't, mother.” 

“You're already wearing a somewhat tight dress, Y/N!” 

“Auntie—” Yunho’s voice cuts through but she takes a few steps in his direction and ignores you completely, even if you have started to shake a little. 

Feeling small, useless, helpless and humiliated, you turn to the white wall and start counting the imperfections on it. If you distract yourself, you won't have to fix your makeup later. 

If you distract yourself, you won't have to hear her calling you out for “overreacting” to her words. 

If you distract yourself, you save Yunho from feeling any pity towards you again. It doesn't matter if he said that's not the motivation behind his behavior tonight, you know there has to be some part of him that pities you. 

Like there's some part of you that pities him, just a bit. 

“Now that you are going to have to spend some time together, dear, you have to stop her from doing these sorts of things. The editors work overtime trying to hide it and even then…” 

Her words, Yeji’s words, your own words that you whispered to yourself earlier today in front of the mirror, they all feel heavy on your neck, threatening to crush it under the weight. 

Under your own weight. 

Oh, you feel sick. 

“Auntie, you can't speak to her like that.” 

Yunho is not raising his voice by any means, but the tone is stern and firm and leaves no space for mistaking it as other than a warning. 

Whatever that means for your mother. 

“Now that you're going to have to spend some time together,” she repeats, dismissing Yunho’s warning “You're going to learn that this is the only way you can shut her up when she gets going, dear. She's a very grumpy human being, aren't you, Y/N?” you don't answer or turn and she sighs “See?” 

Closing your eyes, a heavy sigh leaves you before another one follows it and soon your chest is heaving and your hyperventilating while trying to blink away the tears that gather on your eyes. 

Back connecting to the wall, you look up to find Yunho staring at your mother like he discovered some part of her that's new, like he's disappointed and somehow never saw this coming but he says nothing. You also find your mother staring at you and after assessing you quickly again, she rolls her eyes and steps away. 

“She’s also, apparently, very sensitive and can't take constructive criticism well,” she says and when she reaches the door, she looks at you both over her shoulder “Compose yourselves and come out. We have some pictures to take in five minutes.” 

When she closes the door behind her, you release another trembling breath and Yunho practically runs towards you. 

“I've never heard her talking like that to anyone, does she… Y/N, is she—” you shake your head, clearly not having the energy to explain or defend your own mother and he takes the hint immediately “I just never heard her saying anything like that.” 

“You're really lucky, then.” 

He quickly scans your face for something you're not sure he's going to find. You're trying to steady your breath and scare the tears away with the breathing techniques you were given in therapy. 

Yunho finds whatever he's looking for anyway. 

“Don’t listen to her,” he starts and, just like in the afternoon, he looks unsure of what to do with his hands, so he just raises them and lowers them before swallowing hard “You can eat everything you want and this dress would still look beautiful on you,” and his words do nothing but to raise your panic levels a little bit more. Why the hell is he complimenting you? You chest raises and falls a little harder now, your heart beats a little quicker and you whimper a little “Oh, fuck, no, I'm sorry I didn't mean… I did mean it, actually.” 

“Huh?!” 

“To tell you that you look beautiful! Because you do and— Fuck, princess, please don't cry, it's not worth it” he whispers the last bit when cover your eyes with your hands softly and you nod, trying to assure him you won't without saying a word “Did you bring the—” 

Did you promise you were going to bring them? You don't even remember. If you did, you wonder what makes him think you would follow through with that silly promise, considering you're trying to cover your issues up in the first place. 

“No, I didn't. I can't just pop them whenever I feel like crying, Yunho, they're only p-preventative,” you mumble but the question is enough to distract you, to ground you. The only thought passing through you being: don’t let them know. Don't let it show. Don't become carnage for them to pick apart and consume even more “I've been drinking, too, it's not safe to take them.” 

The stillness of the room when you both shut up is what allows you to come up to the surface after almost drowning in your panic. Your breathing steadies, your heart only pounds a little faster when you feel hands on top of yours and soft fingertips caressing the skin of them when they bring them down. 

Opening your eyes to find Yunho staring at you it's not unexpected, the cautious way he regards you is. You can't even bring yourself to break eye contact with him because he did, after all, just tried to help you. 

Again. 

And God knows you don't own Jeong Yunho absolutely anything but you can try and not bark at him when he slowly inspects your face, pupils coming and going like he's trying to read you even more. 

He seems to ignore that this, and the way he saw you earlier today, is as vulnerable as you can get. 

“You know what? Fuck this.” 

“What?” 

“Fuck this. We're leaving.”

Next thing you know, your mind catches onto your body's movements when he already dragged you to the hallway and to the top of the stairs “Yunho, we can't.” 

He takes a few steps down and you follow, a little irritated. 

“Fuck this and what they want from us, Y/N.” 

“I can't.” 

He pauses and turns to you, you take the opportunity to release yourself from his grasp and raise your chin a little. From this position, you're taller than him but not for much, especially not when he climbs up a step back. 

“You're seriously going back out there after all the shit your mother just gave you?” 

“Yes,” you answer right away and you can visibly tell that he's pissed at you. Only this time, it comes with zero gratification for your pride. “You're free to leave and do whatever you want but I have a responsibility with my family that I can't just walk out of.” 

“But—” 

“But what, Yunho?” shoulders deflating and arms dropping to your sides, it feels like you're never going to get yourself, your reasons, through his thick skull “What are we going to do if we get out of here now, hm? Get in a car, go for some fast food? End up on a rooftop somewhere or a park or whatever spot you think is cool and calm to reflect on our shitty families, Yunho?” 

He doesn't say anything but the tick of his jaw it's indicative of how your words are hitting him. You're glad and not out if pure pettiness or spite, for once. 

“And then you expect me to magically renounce everything I have, everything I am, because you have a little revolutionary anti chaebol spirit inside of you?” you scoff, leaning in a fraction “This is not a movie, Yunho. I'm not a damsel in distress, I don't need you to tell me how awful my mother is or to save me from her. Now,” you lean back and then take the steps down “I'm going in there, I'm taking the stupid pictures she wants me to take and, if you're planning on staying, I'll leave with you when all of our parent's friends are drunk enough that they don't notice us leaving.” 

You look back up at him and he closes his eyes, indecisiveness written all over his expression. 

And that's, probably, the biggest difference between you both. 

But you feel some sort of safety when he opens them up again: There, pissed and all, is the image of the Yunho you know. 

And that’s exactly who you need tonight. 

“Please don't leave that plate of food up there,” you mumble and he's about to say something else when you interrupt him “I don't want to eat it, I just want you to go back up there so I can go inside first. The last thing I want is for people to think that I'm so in love that I lost all of my decorum in a staff closet or something.” 

It takes him a second, but words come out of his mouth and under his breath “Ew.” 

Your eyes almost meet the back of your head at that. 

“You wish, Jeong.” 

You take the rest of the steps down and then take a huge breath before stepping back into the gala. 

The first thing you do is look for another drink. 

And drink you do. 

You only notice Yunho didn't leave after his brief debauchery of anarchy when you feel his presence next to you, his hand on yours or your arm or your hip the rest of the night (as fake as it feels, it’s a good facade for everyone who’s playing close attention so you welcome the fact that he’s not pissed enough to blown your cover off with a tiny bit of gratefulness), especially when Yeji gets too close or attempts to initiate a conversation. 

You hate that your chest swells with victory when you see her face fall after the last attempt to steal your fake boyfriend. 

But you don't really notice if she puts more effort into doing it. After a particular coctel, you're left dizzy enough that the rest of the night passes in a blur and you're operating in autopilot by the time Yunho leans in and whispers that he's taking you home. 

Why is Yunho taking you home out of all people? 

Well he's not, not really. He’s not driving you anywhere. In fact, he’s making you freeze as he waits for something, hands on his hips and everything. 

“Where's your driver?” 

He looks around the empty street, waiting for the car that brought you two to the gala to appear and you drunkenly giggle, back against the brick wall “Home with his family, I hope.” 

“So who's driving us?” 

“The helicopter, it's parked on the roof.” 

He turns to you “The what?” 

“I'm getting an uber, Yunho. Get yours.” 

“I said, I'm taking you home.” 

“Did you?” you frown as you look through the apps on your phone until you find the one you need. Quickly typing the name of the place hosting the event, it takes a few clicks till it lets you know they're finding a driver for you “I don't remember you saying that. I remember you stuttering in front of grandma Park when she called you handsome,” you lock your phone and look back up at him “Oh and you blushed just like that, too. You look so dumb.” 

Defensively, he stutters out “I'm not blushing.” 

You giggle again and point at his silly, stupid, concerned face “Yes, you are,” a notification makes your phone light up “My car is a minute away.” 

“Our car.” 

“Oh my God,” you groan, “you're a pain in the ass.” 

“And you're drunk!” He points out and you roll your eyes “I despise you princess, truly, now more than ever, but it's against my principles.” 

You scoff, loudly and then laugh at him, at his words, at his mask “You can stop pretending now, Jeong. I don't buy it like everyone else does- Oh, the car.” 

As the uber comes to a stop, you manage to not stumble your way to it and to ignore Yunho’s hands (open and willing to catch you in case you fall) because you certainly don’t need his help. He should know it by now. He shouldn’t even open the door for you, but here he is, ever the gentleman in front of everyone else and a total ass behind closed doors.

Although today…

No. Pushing the thought aside, you ironically bow to “thank him” for his kindness. 

“Buy what exactly?” He asks before you can get in. 

The door is open now, yellow light on both yours and Yunho’s faces, and the driver is trying to conceal (very badly) the fact that he’s paying attention to your conversation, so you put on a smile and shrug to dismiss his question “I’ll tell you later, dear. Thanks for walking me to the car,” his confused expression makes you want to giggle again, but you save it “Text me when you get home, hm?” 

Before he can argue with you some more, you get into the car and welcome the warmth radiating from the leather seat before attempting to close the door. 

Only for it to be pulled open again “Move,” he says a little harshly and then looks at the drive “m-my love.” 

Oh, he’s so bad at this. 

But he doesn’t really leave room to kick him out of your uber when he forces his way in “Good evening.” He says to the driver and smiles at the man behind the steering wheel as well before the door closes and the car is surrounded by darkness again. 

Hands grasping the seat and Yunho’s arm, you think maybe you should've listened to him when he told you to eat something. The world spins a little when the car starts moving and it really takes everything in you, for the first time ever, to pull away from Yunho’s firm arm and make space in between you like you always do. 

There’s silence at last. Until there isn’t. 

Your mind it’s never truly quiet, is it? 

Dizzy and everything, you start planning the rest of your night and your next day. You don’t have to go into the office, so you can take care of everything at home. Okay, cool. There’s this thing you need to talk to HR about and also you need to schedule the lunches you’re bringing to the orphanage. What day is it? Ah, right, you still have a few more days to make everything pretty for the children. Is Yunho on your schedule for the week? You forgot to check, you forgot to ask. The calendar should be updated by now, considering your mom’s main assistant was not at the event tonight and that means she’s working overtime tonight. Probably making sure there’s no wrong headlines on the immediate news outlets and curating the comments on the instagram posts and—

“Whatcha' thinkin' about?”

Silence again. 

Only this time, it’s because you notice Yunho’s fingers on your arm and your head snaps towards him so fast it makes you dizzier. 

Nothing you care about, you want to tell him. Nothing important, nothing that would make an actual impact and close the bridge between you and him enough for him to be handling you with some much care for the umphtenth time today.  

“I’m just really tired,” you say instead and, for once, you’re not lying or deflecting. You’re so fucking tired “I didn’t sleep last night. I was working on something.” Again, not a lie, even though you were working on ways of preventing this entire day from happening. 

“Well, we’re a few minutes away.” 

“I’m a few minutes away.” You correct in a whisper which makes him giggle under his breath and that prompts you to stare bitterly at him.

You don’t ask him what the fuck is so funny but you find out once you reach the gate of your house. Not waiting for him to get down and open the door for you (because you don’t expect him to get down with you at all), you bid your goodbye to the driver -not Yunho- and get out of the car so fast it feels like someone pressed the fast forward button on you. You’re more sober now than what you were at the start of the car ride but it still proves difficult to slide the panel of your front door up and let it read your thumb print to gain access. 

“Stupid fucking thing.” You say in a distracted murmur when it wont read the print and almost let out a scream when someone grabs your opposite thumb and raises it to the panel. 

It reads right away and you turn to Yunho with a scowl on your face “I hate you.” 

“My brother designed this thing before Jeong Tech moved on to cybersecurity exclusively,” he reminds you “Careful with what you say about it.” 

Looking at the street, you find it empty again “Walking home or what?” 

“Stop pretending to not know I’m going to help you in, Y/N.” 

“I don’t need your help!” 

He looks at the thumb he’s still grabbing and the back at you before raising a brow “Sure.” 

Groaning, you take your thumb back to open the gate. You don’t even attempt to close it on his face but you don’t wait for him as you speedrun your front garden and, when you get up the stairs to your front door, it opens on its own. 

Well, not on its own. There’s a staff member smiling kindly at you. She’s one of the new ones, the young ones (younger than you, even) who won’t even tell you their names at your mothers petition, so you usually don’t insist on it because it causes them stress. You shake your head “Did she make you stay up late tonight?”

“Yes, miss Kim. She instructed me to stay the night in case either you, mister Kim or her needed some help.” 

“Help with what?” you say with a tint of annoyance in your tone and you see her bow instinctively at Yunho, who you presume is right behind you now and she offers her hands immediately to take his coat from him but you wave yours so she can stop “Please, go to your room and sleep. If she gets angry because she doesn’t find anyone to help her undress tonight, I’ll deal with it.” 

“But… Miss Kim, your guest—”

“Mister Jeong Yunho,” you don’t turn to him but you guess he bowed to her again because she hurriedly does the same “He’s not staying for long,” you hope. “Please go and get some sleep, dear.”  

She hesitates and your face softens at the slight panic you recognize in her eyes very, very well. 

“I’ll deal with her,” you promise with a genuine smile tugging at your lips “Now, go.” 

Obeying, she bows deeply at both of you before smiling back at you for a split second before disappearing through the staff aisle. There’s not many staff who stay in the property after hours and the ones that do usually stay when your parents need them but you find it quite annoying. 

Not for you but because you’re grown people. There’s not many things the staff do for you besides your breakfast every morning and your clothes -because you couldn’t convince your mom to let you do it yourself- but for her? For your dad? They do almost everything.  

At their grown age. Ugh. 

Getting into the house, you slip your high heels off and you hear the door closing and some shuffling, letting you know Yunho is doing the same. 

“You’re not welcomed here, Jeong, please go away.” 

“Shut up and look at your phone, will you?” 

“Hm?” 

Unlocking it, it’s immediately floated with messages from a new group chat that consists of Yunho, his brother, your brother and you. 

The texts are very clearly written by two drunk idiots (your brothers) and one sober idiot (Yunho) and there’s even a selfie taken in the very same room Yunho found you in earlier today. Frowning, you move to the last texts. 

kim soohyun: mjom and dad 4nd mom and dad are going home to have a little after party in like an horu hbtw  gunho oppa ♡︎: so wer’e going otoo! hehe. stay in your room y/n if u don’t eant to deal with yaunti she’s a lil hdrunkies  kim soohyun: mhm but n o funnhy business  kim soohyun: oh wait  kim soohyun: you’re anot actually ua thing hahahahaha @yn u loser 

Oh you’re going to kill him. Both of them. The three of them, actually, now that Yunho takes the opportunity to send a laughing emoji at what your brother said and when you look up at him, he’s giggling again. 

“What the actual fuck.” 

“He’s funny!” He defends himself right away and you groan before heading for the stairs. The texts and the fact there’s going to be some sort of movement on the house when it’s supposed to be cold, empty and, most importantly, in total silence, it’s enough to sober you up. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” 

Yunho does not follow you. But this house, at this point and with him disregarding your wishes of exiling him out of your life, is as much his as it is yours, so you just let him be downstairs while the darkness of your room engulfs you. You move like that, with the street lights and the moonlight leaking through the big balcony window and toss your purse and phone on the bed. 

Getting your accessories off, they clink and clank on your vanity by door and breathe a little more calmly now that the weight of them is not on you. Slowly, but surely, the stress and sensory overstimulation of the night makes it way off you as well. 

It’s not only until you get to the zipper of your dress that you remember why you needed someone to get you into the dress in the first place. It’s stuck, per se, but you can’t really reach it no matter how much you bend and twist and there’s some noise downstairs that it’s making your eye twitch a little bit. Maybe what’s making it is the ice machine built in on the fridge but you also hear some pans and you find it hilarious that Yunho, out of everyone, is the first non-contractually obligated person to touch the kitchen in years. 

Losing the battle against the zipper and sweating a little bit, the last wave of dizziness from all the drinks you had comes in and so you lower yourself to the floor, near the balcony door and just close your eyes. 

Now that you're home, the lack of sleep really gets to you. It feels like ten minutes or ten hours  simultaneously when someone turns on the light in your room and the sudden intrusion of it burns you a bit when you open your eyes and stare at the ceiling. 

Yunho scoffs from your door and you hear your foodsteps approach until he’s on your line of vision, eyebrows creasing at the sight of him “You’re so fucking weird, I swear.” 

You mumble your jab out “Yeah, laying on the floor in the dark after an exhausting day of dealing with your presence it’s not as weird as it sounds, buddy.” 

He ignores you.

“Made you some food.” 

Suspicious. Slowly, you sit up. There’s a tray on your vanity with bowls and glasses of water and you want to yell at him for putting it there in the first place but the smell of buldak invades your nostrils and your stomach grumbles in response.

You didn't even know you had buldak anywhere in this house. Weird. 

“Is it poisoned?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs “why don’t you find out?” 

Your stomach grumbles again, begging. Your heart races as you glance at the tray again, anxious. Your rotten mind makes you delay your words, already telling you you’re going to regret it. 

But you’re so hungry. 

“Did you put cheese on it?” 

Yunho is sitting at the edge of your bed now, manspreading and with his elbows on his legs, his hands in between them. This coat is off now, you don’t really know where he left it at but it’s gone and his hair it’s not perfect anymore, like he ran his hand through it a couple of times. He smiles a little at you when he answers, low and teasing, like he can’t believe you asked him that “Obviously.” 

You wish you could convince yourself that the gulp you just did it’s due to your sudden appetite. And it kind of is. But the truth of the matter is that the ramen had nothing to do with it. 

He looks good like this. He doesn’t necessarily looks like the manchild you know and even if it irks you a little that he insists of taking care of you with this little, insignificant detail (after all, he’s going to get out of your life and your complicated relationship with food will endure till the end of times), you can’t really deny the sudden blush it brings to your cheeks. 

Clearing your throat and reaching behind you to open the balcony door, you point to the tray with your chin “Alright, bring it here.” 

It’s truly a shame you can read it in his face that he’s counting this as some sort of victory and, if it were anyone else, you would hate to disappoint them when they inevitably notice further on that this effort of correcting your nasty habits are futile as long as your living with the source of the issue under the same roof. But since it’s Yunho, you don’t really care. 

You don't care, you don’t care, you don’t care. 

The way your heart squeezes and you feel like crying when he intently watches the first bite you take out of the noodles it’s nothing, it’s just your emotions getting mixed in with the spicy taste of them and the cheese and the way your stomach finally gets some sort of relief after being partially empty the entire day. 

You don’t care that he made a little bowl for himself as well. And you definitely don’t care that he’s sitting beside you, eating his food and occasionally glancing at you to check your reaction and you hate him for it. 

It triggers the part of you that doesn’t really know how to behave, the same part who thought of him fondly this afternoon when he wiped your tears away and calmed your nerves. When brought you food upstairs at the gala, when he brushed his fingers against your arm in the car, when he helped you in. 

When you saw his expression after his mom yelled at him. When he got upset after your mom yelled at you. 

It's like you can see it: the knitting needle moving faster than ever, interspersing your lives even more and in the worst way possible, the only way you don't want it to happen is because it's unexpected and you haven’t prepared for it, because it's unnecessary. 

The way your heart is beating for him right now is totally unnecessary. 

“What?” He asks when he notices you staring “I know it’s not that bad, princess, I live in a dorm most days of the week,” he adds, laughing a little and you look down at your noodles again, halfway done “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s ramen.” 

“We had this or did you bring it with you?” Stupid question but right now you need to distract yourself from your sudden burst of feelings and vulnerability. 

He looks at you like you’re a weirdo, again “And kept it where?” 

“In that birdnest you call hair, for example.”

“Okay, you know what—” he stops when he hears you laugh and drops his argument alongside his chopsticks, only to laugh a little as well “Smartass.” 

“I’m just hilarious, dude,” you say, shrugging it off like you’re humble or something “Where do you think Soohyun got it from?” 

“Definitely not you.” 

“Tsk,” you shake your head “you have no humor. I don’t know how mister Park stands you.” 

That seems to bring the memory back. Assuming he forgot because you both had better things to focus on, he brings his palm to his head rather harshly and you cringe at the sound it makes. 

“Right! How do you fucking know him, Y/N? I thought you only knew Yeo.” 

“Who?” 

“Yeosang,” at your furrowed brow, he turns a little in your direction and sighs “The guy I was with that one time you saw me at the bowling alley, like a year or so ago I think.” 

Oh, that guy you totally didn’t remember existed until now. Barely remembering that day, you recall it was one of those days you went along with the plans your classmates had at the time. A bowling alley? A public bowling alley? It seemed like such a normal endeavor until you spotted Yunho at the entryway talking with, you assumed at the time and confirmed now, his friend. 

When he saw you and barely raised his hand to wave at you, you remember the feeling of embarrassment washing over your and your cheeks turning red and then excusing yourself and leaving the scene immediately, like you were caught red-handed enjoying shit you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying. 

“Ah,” you tilt your head “I forgot about that,” you obviously didn’t, but you pretend you did “I didn’t know his name, though, I didn’t say hi to you or anything.” 

“Didn’t expect you to,” he shrugs it off “He asked me if you liked me that day and I asked him what gave him the impression you did,” that takes you off guard and you the noodles get caught up on your throat a little before you force them pass it and mumble out a tiny what? “Mhm, I didn’t understand either and he told me to forget it but I remember it because he didn’t even see you that well that night.” 

“Maybe he’s fucking crazy,” you offer and he gives you a look “It would suit you if you friends were crazy, I’m just saying.” 

“Suit me? That's crazy.” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“How do you know Hwa, Y/N?” 

You almost ask him who that is when it clicks on his head that he’s talking about Park Seonghwa. Thinking about him, about your tiny hiccup early this morning and the acute possibility there was of him saying yes to your proposal makes you scrunch your nose in momentary resentment. Because, really, you’re glad he said no. 

Yunho might not be used to this world of tinsel and fakeness anymore but he’s cut for it. Seonghwa? He didn’t look like he would last a second actually involved in it. 

Good for him. 

“He’s working for my brother,” you finally answer after a few seconds of staring at your noodles and sipping a bit of water and Yunho open his eyes at the new information “He’s working on his spaces and aligning his chakras or whatever Soohyun is into these days,” sighing, you think about that dumb tree he made you paint on his wall and then stare at the half finished canvas that’s facing the wall next to your vanity for a few seconds “Probably going to renovate his apartment, too. Soohyun said he’s tired of minimalism or something?” 

“That definitely sounds like Hwa,” he nods and you wonder what he means by that but don’t pry “And his girlfriend?” 

“The mechanic?” you ask and Yunho shrugs “He told me she was his mechanic,” you clarify before continuing “He brought his motorcycle to the building because something was wrong with it, I guess. They’re together together now?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She’s really cool,” you smile at the memory of the girl “She looks really cool, at least.” 

“Yeah but he just met her.” 

“And?” 

“Isn’t a little too early to call her his girlfriend?” 

“How the hell would I know that?” you ask and you don’t mean to sound defensive… But you do a little bit so you clear your throat and shrug one more time and decide to joke your way out of it “Should he wait like fifteen years so that his mom forces him to be in a fake relationship with her or something?”

Yunho doesn’t laugh. 

You finish your noodles in silence until he groans and you turn to him.  

He stares at his phone and then closes his eyes, regretfully “God, they’ve been calling me for a few hours now.” 

“They found out?”

“I don’t know.” He whines, resting his forehead on his palm as he looks through some messages. 

You take the opportunity to distract him, tease him a little bit if that’s able to get him off his phone “Do you know anything ever?” 

“I know you’re annoying as fuck even when I make you food and all.”

It works because he locks his phone and stares at you with a pout that feigns innocence and  hurt. 

“Oh, wow,” you gulp the rest of the water down and wipe the corners of your mouth with your fingers before propping yourself up on your knees and then all the way up “And just when I thought we were finally getting along.”

He gets up as well “Is that a thing?” he asks, taking the tray from the floor and leaving it on top of your vanity again, which gains him a look that he ignores “Us being friends?” 

“Well, no,” you turn to him on your way to your walk-in closet “We were born to hate each other and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” 

“We should at least try, Y/N. I have a schedule with you now.” 

You don’t hear him follow you but when you turn after finding your pajamas for the night, he’s resting his shoulder on the door frame and the same thought as before crosses your mind. 

Why is he attractive like this? Under the soft light of your walk-in closet and with his tie loose and messy? 

You don’t if that is what possesses you to walk towards him, slowly, like a lioness towards her prey and stop just before your chest touches his middle “Is that why you want to get along? Or is it because you’re still pitying me, Jeong?” 

He says nothing, eyes lidded and breath picking up along yours. 

“Is that why you brought me food at the gala? Why you suggested us leaving, defy our parents' wishes only after you saw the way she treated me? Is that it?” 

You want him to tell you yes, that’s exactly what it is. Because that alone can effectively kill the desire that suddenly rushes through you, unbidden and foreign. If you lean a little, if you grab his tie and pull him down towards you… Maybe he’ll reject you, maybe his rejection will kill the feeling down too. 

So you lean in just a fraction. 

And Yunho stays put. 

What the hell is going on? 

“I don’t pity you, Y/N,” he lets you know for the second time tonight “I understand you,” he says, his eyes scanning your face and looking for something. He seems to find it, he seems to be satisfied with it as well “I finally understand you and I think you understand me too. Do you?”

It takes you a bit, but you nod and he tilts his head just a little bit, like saying see? 

“And because of that, you want us to be friends?”

He breathes out and it hits your cheek. Your chest heaves a little at that “Don’t you think we could at least try to get along, princess?” He asks in a whisper. 

You take your time pretending to think about it like the proposal isn’t tempting, like you didn’t already answer yourself inside your head. Truly, you’re a little lost at the closeness and a little dizzy at the way his pupils seem to be committing you to his memory. 

There’s this sudden tension you never let yourself feel before and your mouth hangs open a little when he leans in another tiny, molecular fraction into your space. 

And then common sense takes over. Pushing him away and into your room just to move past him, you shrug “Truce until we break up, it is.” 

“Truce, then.” You don’t need to turn to him to know he’s smiling. 

“They updated it?” you don’t have your phone with you but you can already foresee the amount of activities you have together just to put up with the charade. He looks at you, confused after whatever that was “The calendar?” 

“O-oh, yeah, uhm… I don’t see you for the rest of the week except on saturday morning and afternoon, here it says, um…” at the day mentioned, you freeze “It says: Ask her to take you with her to her saturday activities?” 

“You don’t need to, I’ll tell them you were with me.” You dismiss the idea right away, pretending it’s not a big deal and moving to your big mirror to try and unzip the dress one more time. 

“Why? What do you do on saturdays?” 

Giving him a look, he puts his palms up defensively. 

“I thought we were friends now!” 

“Having friends means sharing your personal agenda with them?” You ask, beyond confused.

“It��s technically my agenda too, so…” 

“I don’t know why it’s your agenda too because what I do on saturdays it’s not necessarily public information and… Oh, stupid zipper,” you look around your vanity for something that can help you get it down “And,” you continue, failing at the task in hand “It’s not really something for everyone. So I’m guessing it’s some sort of way your mom or my mom are punishing you for lashing out this afternoon.” 

“Ok, but what is it?” He murmurs and you stop your movements. Yunho is suddenly behind you. Entranced with finding something that could help you out, you didn’t even notice him closing the distance in the background on the reflection on the mirror. But when you look up he’s there and your poor, poor heart picks up again.

“I volunteer at an orphanage that’s not really… Well, it’s not the best at taking care of the kids but I’m working on that,” you answer, cautiously, catching his surprised expression in the mirror “I bring them some food and toys and since it’s nearing halloween we wanted to decorate the space a little bit but the kids they’re not… Sweet and innocent,” you try to explain, gulping when Yunho raises his hands and his fingers start fidgeting with the zipper “They’ve been through some shit so they cause a little bit of trouble when people go and visit them. They’re used to seeing me but not you, so…” 

“They’re going to bully me?” he asks, regarding you through the reflection with a tiny smile “I can help you this saturday if you like… It’s stuck,” the pout returns to his lips and you can only hope he’s not able to hear your heartbeats the way you hear them of your ears, the way you feel them on your throat, especially when the zipper gives in and it slides easily down the length of your body. He leaves it at an appropriate distance, where it doesn’t show too much skin and it doesn’t feel impossible to pull it down yourself, either “There.” 

“T-thanks,” you stutter out fast, wondering why he’s not pulling away and time stops ticking when you catch him taking a look at your exposed skin, his cheeks darkening a bit or so you think “I t-thought you had that thing this weekend?” 

“Honjoong’s gig,” he nods “that’s at eight that day. So I can go with you on— I want to go with you.”

What is this? What’s this sudden change of heart? What’s this tension, this mutual understanding, this sudden feeling of wanting to have him around for that? 

Your walls are falling down and that’s dangerous. 

Your clothes might fall down too, if he keeps staring at you like that. 

“Sure,” you mumble out and, for the first time in forever, you welcome with a hug and a kiss on the forehead the sound of the garage door opening and signaling that your parents and his are finally home “Y-you should—” 

He pulls away, awkwardly and almost tripping with the carpet. 

“Y-yeah, no, definitely—”

“I’m going to t-take a shower, so…”

“Oh, yeah, you stink again, um—”

He almost makes it through the door when he turns around and takes the tray “Thank you, by the way.” 

It catches him off guard, you can tell.

“Thank you for today. For showing up, for making me food and everything else.” 

His smile brings that fluttery softness emotion back and you point to the door before he can say anything back. 

“Tell them I’m asleep, please.” 

“Yeah, okay, hm… See you saturday?” 

“Sure.” 

“Okay,” he smiles again and you walk to the door so you can see him out of your room and lock it like his brother suggested over text “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Night, Jeong.” You whisper and, finally, you breathe in the normalcy of your room again. 

Only this time, you look around and see the image of Yunho at the edge of your bed. And again, sitting by your balcony with you. And again, when you move through the walk-in closet to get to your bathroom behind it, you turn and the memory of him leaning on the door frame plagues your mind like a virus. 

You’re in so much trouble. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part two of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[lincolndjarin]

constructive criticisms

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

  “What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice. 

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder. 

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face. 

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient. 

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair. 

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him. 

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it. 

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs. 

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction. 

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing. 

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely. 

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk. 

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place. 

You recognize the website he’s on. 

You’d know that red bar anywhere. 

There’s no fucking way. 

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction. 

You’re so fucked. 

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan. 

That somehow hurts worse. 

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants. 

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car. 

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed. 

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head. 

It doesn’t. 

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone. 

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one. 

[ I’m coming over. ] 

Son of a bitch. 

You quickly scroll through the previous messages. 

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else. 

He liked your story. 

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole. 

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat. 

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face. 

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous. 

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead. 

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence. 

“Your file.” He says sheepishly. 

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough. 

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze. 

“Why did you read it?” 

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm. 

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better. 

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly. 

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown. 

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know. 

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation. 

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction. 

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now. 

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse. 

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms. 

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively. 

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious. 

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion. 

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face. 

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit. 

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff. 

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away. 

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down. 

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind. 

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly. 

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again. 

You both know what that means. 

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home. 

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door. 

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady. 

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting. 

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him. 

This is exactly what happens in your story. 

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are. 

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth. 

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her. 

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.” 

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap. 

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded. 

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss. 

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions. 

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically. 

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further. 

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious. 

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense. 

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end. 

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise. 

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked. 

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud. 

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red. 

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering. 

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.  

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed. 

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm. 

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!” 

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly. 

“Seriously?” You glare at him. 

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine. 

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing. 

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you. 

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous. 

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else. 

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh. 

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle. 

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?” 

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things. 

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before. 

“What do I do first?” 

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip. 

“What do I do next?” You look up at him. 

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth. 

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady. 

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips. 

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down. 

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you. 

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs. 

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats. 

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed. 

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide. 

“Why?” 

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here. 

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition. 

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you’d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in. 

It doesn’t take much from there. 

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours. 

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point. 

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom. 

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock. 

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs. 

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.  

God, you wish you’d done this sooner. 

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours. 

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile. 

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him. 

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you. 

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you. 

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you. 

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out. 

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

[stayteezdreams]

An Honest Mistake

Plot: During an ordinary Halloween party, your evening and life are changed when a stranger mistakes you for someone else.

Prompt: They mistake you as their friend at a costume party and accidentally kidnap you.

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Gn!Reader (strangers to ???)

A/n: I was super vague about the reader's costume, so just imagine you are dressed as whichever masked hero you would prefer. Also, do people actually use the term "pursue"? Or is that just a show thing?? lmao

Words: 2.1k

Wandering through the party, you waved at some people that were looking at your costume. You were dressed as your favorite superhero, mask and all. The costume itself was good quality and you liked it, however, the downside was with the mask on, you had to practically yell for anyone to hear you talk.

This led to you taking the mask off a few times throughout the night to save your vocal cords from the strain.

It was getting late in the night at this point, and you were considering going home. Walking from room to room, you were looking for the host, a friend of yours, so you could say goodbye before leaving.

Entering the main room, where a lot or people seemed to converge to dance and play various drinking games, your eyes caught on someone walking your way.

He was attractive, his hair was tied back, and he was wearing an old style royal outfit. It suited him.

You began growing more and more confused as his eyes locked on you before they widened in recognition. He waved at you and began approaching you quickly. You hesitated in your steps out of confusion.

Did you know him? No, definitely not.

Stopping in front of you, he smiled widely, his features even more attractive close up. You tilted your head in confusion as he spoke to you.

"There you are! I've been looking for you!"

"Huh?"

Your heart started pounding as he took your hand in his and began dragging you along to follow him.

"Come on, we should go!"

You shook your head in confusion, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

He frowned as he looked back, "What?"

Before you could speak again, he spoke to some other people that greeted him as he passed.

You were growing more and more confused. You tried to pull your hand away, but he kept his grip tight. You tried calling out to him again, but between your mask and the loud party around you it was pointless.

You continued to doge various people as he pulled you along, never hearing your questions, and his grip never loosening enough for you to pull your hand away.

Seeing he was heading towards the door, you let him finish leading you there. It would be quieter, and you could finally figure out what the hell he was doing kidnapping you in the middle of a party.

As soon as you stepped out of the door, you yanked your hand away and he looked back surprised.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He furrowed his brow as he heard your muffled voice, not recognizing it. He watched as you pulled your mask off, revealing the confused face of a stranger.

"Oh!" He yelled out and you stared at him stunned.

"Oh?!"

He rose his hand to his mouth, now understanding why you were trying so hard to pull your hand away from him. And why he thought he kept hearing you try to talk through your mask.

"I'm so sorry! I thought you were my friend!" He looked you up and down, his face full of surprise and guilt, "You're wearing the exact same costume."

You frowned at him, unsure if you should believe him. But seeing the look on his face, you couldn't help but give him the benefit of the doubt.

Running your hands throw your hair to fix it, knowing it was probably wild after being in your mask, you missed how the stranger's eyes raked over you.

Wooyoung had to admit, you were very attractive. "I am sorry!" He said again as he repressed a light laugh.

You caught this and looked at him dumbfounded. "Did you just laugh?" You tried to sound serious, but amusement was evident in your own voice.

He shook his head, "Sorry, sorry, it's just... It's not every day I accidentally kidnap someone."

You let out a laugh, feeling a bit less tense at his humor at the situation. It could have been a lot worse.

"Well, it's not every day someone accidentally kidnaps me."

He grinned, and you felt your heart flutter. You cleared your throat, "Why don't you try calling your friend instead?"

He let out a sigh. "My phone died, and I can't remember their number."

"Ah." You stood there in silence for a brief moment, "Well. This was fun, but I should-" as you gestured that you were gonna head back inside, he suddenly stepped forward.

"Wait!" You paused and he smiled softly, "What's your name?"

You thought for a second, "You first."

He smiled brightly as he waved his hand at you in greeting, "Wooyoung!"

You held back a giggle at his actions, he had a much brighter personality than you were expecting.

"Y/n."

"Nice to meet you Y/n, sorry for dragging you out like that, I must have scared you."

You saw guilt flash across his face, and you smiled, "A bit, but it was a misunderstanding, so it's okay."

Another moment of silence passed between you, before you let out a soft breath, "I'm gonna head back in, I was looking for someone too."

He grimaced a little, "Sorry." He started to follow you back inside, "I should try to find my friend again."

You gave him a small head nod before you walked into the crowd. Wooyoung felt an urge to stop you, but let you go, ignoring the instant regret that washed over him as you disappeared in the crowd.

Your heart was still fluttering as you weaved through the crowds, looking out for your friend. Should you have talked to him more? You shook the thought away as soon as it came.

Suddenly, your eyes caught on a figure nearby, dressed exactly like you. You let out a soft laugh as you walked over to them. Tapping them on the shoulder, they looked over at you. You gestured for them to lean in. When they did you spoke up loud enough for them to hear.

"Your friend Wooyoung is looking for you!"

They looked over at you and you gestured to where you had left him. The stranger gave you a thumbs-up before you waved and left.

Just as you were about to give up hope of finding your friend, you spotted them across the room. After saying your goodbyes, you headed back to the front door, ready to go home after a fairly eventful night.

As you made it out the front door, you began walking towards the road before you heard your name called. Looking back, you saw Wooyoung, and his now unmasked friend standing nearby.

He ran up to you and you felt your heart flutter again. "Oh, hello again."

He grinned as he stopped in front of you. "My friend told me you found him in the crowd and pointed me out." You nodded and he continued. "I told him what happened, and he smacked me." He rubbed the back of his head as he said this, and you chuckled.

"Hey, uh, this might be a bit out of the blue, but.... do you think I can get your number?"

You felt your brain short-circuit for a second as your breath caught. "You want my number?"

He nodded with a shy smile, and you felt your heart skip. You bit the inside of your lip before you nodded softly, "Okay."

Wooyoung repressed a grin as you took his phone, typing in your information. He was jittery all over as excitement radiated through him. He really wasn't expecting you to say yes. Maybe you felt the same thing he did when you met earlier.

Handing his phone back, you smiled softly at him. He happily looked at the phone and you couldn't help the butterflies that filled your stomach.

"Do you know the host well?" You nodded and he seemed to grow a bit more exited. "Are you going to their party in a few days?"

You let out a soft breath, "Actually I offered to help set it up, so yeah I'll be there."

He grinned, "I'm going too! Do you mind if we meet up during it?"

Your heart was now hammering heavily in your chest as you shook your head, "I don't mind."

"Awesome." He grinned.

You couldn't repress your smile at his bluntness in showing how he was really feeling. "Anyways, I'll let you go." He began stepping away from you, smiling one more time, "See you later."

You smiled and waved, "See you later, Wooyoung."

Walking away and getting ready to call an uber, you glanced back one time to see Wooyoung still watching you. Your heart jolted as you quickly turned back, your neck heating up from the interaction.

Your mind seemed to linger on Wooyoung for the next few days, the frequency rising as the part grew closer and closer. He messaged you the morning after you met, and consistently over the next few days. Casual conversation and various questions, as he seemed fairly interested in getting to know you.

When the day of the party finally came around, you helped your friend set the party up, all the while you nervously counted down when Wooyoung might arrive.

The party was more of a casual gathering, taking part during the day and focusing more on Autumn than Halloween, though everyone was expected to wear a costume.

This time, you came without a mask, deciding to dress up as another one of your more casual-appearing favorite movie characters.

As you set up various pumpkins on the porch, you weren't aware of the person watching you from nearby. Not until you accidentally snapped off the stem of a pumpkin and heard a soft muffled giggle behind you.

Looking back, your heart jolted at the sight of Wooyoung, dressed in a military-esque outfit. It suited him, of course.

"Wooyoung! Why are you here so early?"

As you rose, he approached you, his charming smile captivating. He hummed softly as he stopped in front of you, his smile becoming a bit shyer.

"I may have asked if I could come early so I could see you."

Your heart jolted in your chest as you repressed a grin, "But you were going to see me later though."

He nodded but smiled almost slyly, "But I couldn't guarantee I'd get you all to myself."

You were a bit stunned by his blunt response and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "Too much?"

Letting out a soft breathy laugh you shook your head, "No, not too much, just a bit unexpected."

"I just wanted you to know my intentions."

You peered at him as you bit back a smile, "Your intentions?"

He hummed and nodded, "Yep."

"And those would be what exactly?"

He smiled slyly as he took a small step closer to you and leaned in, as if he was going to tell you a secret. "That I intend to pursue you."

You almost choked, as you met his eyes with a stunned gaze. He chuckled as he raised his brow, "What?"

"You- you don't even know me!"

He laughed, "I know, but I know enough to know where I want this to go. And we'll get to know each other along the way."

You let out a bewildered scoff as you bit back a bashful smile. Wooyoung could tell you were a bit overwhelmed and smiled almost proudly.

"Plus, we have a good meet-cute story."

"You mean when you basically kidnapped me?"

"It was an honest mistake!" He defended himself, making you laugh. "And it was a mistake I don't regret making." He added on softly, making your heart flutter.

"Sure you won't regret it?"

He nodded his head confidently. "I'm sure."

You hummed teasingly, as if you weren't convinced, and he tilted his head and smiled softly, "I'll prove it."

"Oh really?"

He nodded, "Mhm." He leaned in again, and spoke softly, making your heart beat heavily. "Will you let me?"

You remained silent for a moment as your eyes met his. His gaze both challenged you, and told you his words were in earnest.

You bit the inside of your lip, before you spoke softly, your tone betraying your feelings as you tried to sound equally challenging. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

He grinned at your response, his eyes grazing across your features, making you feel nervous under his gaze as he remained close to you.

You were both challenging each other in a way that excited you. Neither of you fully understood these strong feelings for someone you barely knew, but somehow, deep down, you knew it was gonna last.

xx End xx

The second half sucks, I am sorry. I forgot about this and am hurrying to write it the night before it goes out.

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[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 1, ahh yes my fav trope to write about, Leni is Christian’s daughter and has practically grown up with Max. It’s fair to say her feelings are more so than platonic, but after years of repression, and Max drunkly opening up about his sour relationship, can something become of them? Here is Part 2.

here I am writing another series when I can’t even finish my other ten 🙄- also no disrespect to real life Kelly im just using her for my story rn lmao. Warnings: mention of skinny dipping, alcohol consumption, no cheating (hell no) but Max goes on a rant about his unhappy relationship to an unsuspecting Leni…

“Are you going in?” Max questioned, fisting at the dry sand below. We were lazing on the dark beach, several of our friends had stripped and run into the Monegasque sea, others were dotted around, snogging their partners or random people that they’d picked up from the bar. It seemed like it was just Max and I weren’t fancying the water so much.

“In the water? I don’t think so.” He laughed as I attempted to spot the several people in the water, the darkness made it too difficult and I shuddered at the idea of getting lost out there. I glanced back over to Max, scanning over his face that was lit up by his I phone torch.

“Are you?” The Dutchman asked, drunkly swaying as he sat in the sand like a child. “In the dark, in my clothes, nuh uh.” “Just take your dress off.” My teeth sunk into my bottom lip with a gentle breath of laughter. The only thing being friends with Max was that I’d had an unwavering crush on him since 2014, when he signed up to Red Bull and started working with my dad, Christian Horner.

We’d been close. We always were close friends, a little awkward when we were younger, the three year gap made that teenage stage feel uncomfortably tense between us, but now we were on the other side we’d come out even closer.

“I can’t.” My cheeks warmed, as I hiccuped, taking a sip of the champagne bottle I’d taken secretively out of the bar. Max reached over, fingers swiping over mine as he took the bottle, taking a few sips of the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll go in if you do.” He shrugged as I picked up some sand, letting it fall out of my fist, piling up below. “No I don’t… I don’t have a bra.” I awkwardly admitted, it was a good thing he couldn’t see me blushing. “Oh!” Max exclaimed, that familiar tension growing between us. I always felt unbearably guilty when I felt it, especially now I was single. Max had a girlfriend, they’d been together a year, but I couldn’t intercept their relationship. Morally it wasn’t right.

“Max, where’s Kelly?” I then inhaled, turning the conversation back to his girlfriend. I prodded at my thigh with my acrylic nail uncomfortably. “She’s at home.” He simply answered. “She should’ve come.” I twisted my acrylic further against my skin.

Max hummed, nudging me with the bottle. I didn’t realise he’d been holding it out for me. “Oh.” I took it again, taking a few more swigs.

“Take it slow on that.” Max laughed as I giggled, digging it into the sand. “Sorry…” I then glanced back to where our friends were screaming and laughing from. “Maybe I’ll… maybe I’ll go in.” I began pushing myself up, phone stuffed in my bag.

“Oh, you are?” Maybe his comment prior stirred something up inside of me, I felt all hot and bothered, like I needed to rid the adrenaline from my body. “Yeah.” Standing up, I watched Max stand up too, tossing his phone under my back as I slipped out my heels, shaking my head in amusement. “Fuck it.” Clearly I didn’t think it through, putting this tight dress back on when I was wet and sandy would feel vile. I reached back, attempting to unbutton myself, but I felt Max’s warm hands brush over the fabric, unfastening the clip for me, bringing my zipper down so I could reach with my own hands. My lower stomach warmed and flipped, my core tightened and I felt an undeniable sense of becoming aroused at his touch.

“Thanks.” I swallowed, unzipping myself fully. “Just- don’t look.” I warned, part of me wanted him to watch- no Leni that was wrong. I stripped without turning back, hearing him do the same before I covered my breasts with my arms, hurrying towards the water.

As soon as my toes hit the water I was numb to the cold, the alcohol warmed me and I stumbled in, hearing cheers from further out in the water.

“Max! Hurry!” I gasped, roaming deep enough to where my nipples were covered. The swell of my breasts were still dangerously close to being exposed, when I turned around he was a few feet away, cringing at the cold of the waves, rolling against his exposed skin. “Can you even swim?!” He questioned out with a gasp. “Can I swim? Of course I can swim!” Did he think I looked like I couldn’t swim? Because that was offensive.

“Let’s go deeper then.” He swim past me, wading out to where our friends was. “Nuh uh, I’m too scared I’ll drown!” “Leni, you won’t drown!” He exclaimed. “Yeah, why would you?” Our friend, James made his way over, I knew he was trying to tug me out. “James no! I’ve got no top on, don’t!” I panicked out a laugh, spinning around in circles like I was being surrounded by a shark. We must’ve been in the water for a good half an hour before I got too cold and the motion was making me feel sick. When I’d got back to the shore I sat for a while on my phone, kept warm by the sticky night hair. “Are you cold?” A voice approached and I held my dress tighter over my chest. Stand was clinging to every crevice, and it was taking a lot longer to dry than I hoped. “Im just too wet to put my dress back on.” I cringed at the sensation.

“Here.” He handed over his shirt, holding it out. His torch was switched back on as he glanced over my bare body. The only thing covering me was a tiny pair of white thongs.

“Oh, no, it’s okay.”

“No, no take it, you’re naked… almost.” Max glanced down again as I tensed my jaw. “What will you wear?” I took it from his grasp, fingers sliding over his wet ones.

“I’ll be fine.” He adjusted his boxers slightly, clinging to him from being so wet. He flopped to the floor, groaning as the sand covered him before grabbing at the bottle that was still half buried into the sand below.

“Thank you.” I slipped the shirt on, kneeling up as I buttoned it up twice, the material covering my perfectly. The scent of Max’s cologne filled my nostrils and I hugged the large too tighter around myself. “You suit it.” He nodded in amusement as I spun around, dropping my phone back onto my bag. “You think?” I giggled, sitting across from him once again. “Yeah.” He rasped, nodding as I snickered to myself. Max took another swig of the bottle, holding it out for me. When I had a mouthful of the alcohol, Max spoke again.

“How’s it being single again?” I almost choked, swallowing a rather large mouthful of champagne before dropping the bottle back down. “Um…” I felt a smirk growing. “Interesting.”

“Because you were with him for quite some time? Right?”

“Four years.” I nodded, my eyebrows perking. “Wow.” Max hummed. “Mmm, I just grew out of it. He was my first everything when I was, what? 17? I loved the boy but… things just didn’t feel so- the same.” “The same as in how?” Max gently asked as my gaze landed on his. “Well, I just… things changed, I didn’t feel as close to him, my feelings went- I think I hung around with him for a whole year because of guilt.” I admitted, the alcohol spurring on my thoughts.

“A year?” Max asked as I sadly laughed. “Yeah… but I’m happy being single, I mean I have been for what? 4 months? I’m really happy.” My voice faded as Max smiled gently.

“He wasn’t so nice to you was he?” He then blurted out as my head snapped up. “What?”

“Nothing- just, well your dad- he mentioned a couple things.” Max stammered as a slight embarrassment filled me.

“I didn’t realise he told you about all that stuff.”

“He doesn’t really. It was just a passing comment.” Max shrugged, gaze falling down to the sand below. “He just got a little controlling, you know? Didn’t like what I was wearing or who I was friends- ah, anyway, I got the ick effectively.” I straight up admitted.

“Great.” Max laughed as I smiled to myself. “Besides all that- how did you- how did you know it was… you know.” He awkwardly spoke as I rested my chin on the back of my hand. He sounded vulnerable, like he was about to open up, maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it made my heart beat faster. Max and I always had conversations, rarely those that were deep. “Know what?” I softly asked, sensing his tension. “How did you know it was fully over?”

“Well, the idea of his friends and family was more appealing than him- as in I was scared to lose them not him.” I spoke. “I didn’t have that attraction anymore, he wasn’t my priority, like, what used to be fun felt like… it felt like a task almost.”

“Yeah.” Max responded. “And- and I never think I truly was into the relationship. I was so young when we got together, I don’t think I knew what I want.” I giggled, but his lips only reached into a crooked, half smile.

“To completely honest I didn’t want to have sex with him.” This comment made him smile a little more, something I enjoyed to see knowing I’d made him smile. It fell quiet between us once again. “How’s your relationship going?” I then asked, hoping it wasn’t too personal. Max took a sharp inhale, sitting up straighter. “It’s okay, yeah.” I winced at the insincerity in his voice. The two of us sat there in a second of awkward silence.

“Good.” My voice barely reached above a whisper. “Yeah.” Max’s head dropped once more. His next words startled me into a speechless shock. “I don’t think I love her, Leni.” My heart felt like it exploded, my eyebrows perked and he could see my shock openly on my face.

“What? You don’t think? Maybe that’s just a stage though, maybe it’s too early-” “No, no. I know.” Max cut me off. It was like he’d just gotten something off his chest that he’d been holding for a real long time.

“How do you know?” I was dumbfounded, I felt an uncomfortable sense of guilt that I knew all of this about Kelly, before she did. “Everything that you’ve just said. I love P, I don’t really like her family that much- god we just… we don’t click.” Max ranted as I tightened my jaw, staring down to the glow of his torch.

“How can I be with somebody for a year and tell them this?” Max asked as I winced. “How long have you known?”

“Leni.” Max drunkly sighed into his hands. My heart continued thumping furiously in my chest. “I just know this feelings been there after she lived with me.” Max rubbed his face, looking back up to me again. “That was six months ago.” “Yes.”

“Oh, Max.” I sighed. “You just… you should just tell her.”

“She put herself on the mortgage which doesn’t end for another year.” He groaned again as I felt my lips stretch in an ‘oh shit’ manner.

“That’s…” I glanced around back to where all the houses were, searching for something to say. I was just riddled with a sense of guilt for feeling oddly happy about the admission, it was a horrible way to feel- I hated myself for it.

“Shit.” He answered for me as I looked back to him with a sad smile. “You need to tell her. You can’t keep it going, for both your sakes.”

“I know.” He nodded as I smiled gently, offering the bottle back to him. “Here, Max. You’re gonna need it…”

[hongcherry]

pretty please (rid your worries) || c.sc (m)

Seungcheol's been away from you for too long and just wants your attention; however, it's a little difficult to get between you working and your family being around.

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Fluff, angst; Pretty Please couple, college au, established relationship

🍒 Warnings: Highly suggestive, alludes to sexy time, hickeys, clothed and unclothed touching (idk how to summarize that dskjf), one ass slap lmao

🍒 Word Count: 2.6k

🍒 Author’s Note: This was just supposed to be a cute fluffy fic but noooooo I just had to add angst 🥲 pls enjoy~

Also, this can be read as a standalone.

pretty please masterpost | seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

“How the hell do you stick it in?”

You giggle hearing Seungcheol’s frustrated voice and glance up from pinning a piece of fabric to your dress form. He sits on your bed, hunched over like a little gremlin as he tries to thread a needle. It’s oddly amusing seeing a big man like Seungcheol fretting over something so small.

“Well first, you have to ask for consent,” you tease.

Seungcheol peers up, eyebrows touching as he processes what you just said. When he does, he rolls his eyes and raises the thread and needle in his large hands for you to see.

“Very funny, Cherry, but you know what I meant,” he grumbles.

You smile, sticking the pin you were about to use in your cushion on your desk, then walk toward him. It took five minutes of him sitting idly before he started getting needy. He complained about how you weren’t giving him attention—even trying to give you a back hug several times until you put him in time-out on your bed. You had told him prior to his arrival that you were busy today, but he still insisted on coming over. You’ve barely seen him for three days, yet that equated to three weeks to him.

“Give,” you instruct with your hand out. He gladly gives you the items. He watches you silently as your deft hands slide the thread through the needle’s eye in a matter of seconds.

“Here,” you say. You hold out the needle for him to grab, but instead of grabbing that, he grabs your waist. He pulls you onto the bed, mouth widening from finally getting you in his grasp.

He lays you back on the bed while he hovers over half your body.

“Got you,” he gloats, eyes cast down at you. If he didn’t look so happy about it, you would’ve tossed him to the side to get up.

“How did I know you wouldn’t be able to behave yourself?” you scold playfully.

Seungcheol’s lips purse as he speaks, a clear indicator of how upset he is at your reply. “I’ve behaved for an hour, can’t you just take a ten-minute cuddle break?”

You scoff lightly, “Cheol, it’s been more like fifteen minutes since you arrived.”

“The details don’t matter. You haven’t taken a break yet,” he replies.

“That’s because I’m trying to finish pinning my fabric,” you answer.

Seungcheol stares at you for a second before saying, “Fine. One kiss and then I’ll let you go.”

You doubt he’ll take just one, so you lean up, giving him two quick pecks on the lips.

“Now, get off me you big boulder,” you groan.

“Those don’t count,” Seungcheol whines and leans down closer.

“Not my fault you didn’t specify,” you huff teasingly and stop him from getting any closer with a hand on his chest. “Didn’t they teach you about loopholes in your business classes?”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” he grumbles.

“And what are you going to do about it?” you challenge.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow, quickly pondering about how he wants this to go.

“Annoy you back,” he smirks, then quickly kisses your neck.

Your eyes close briefly at the feeling. “Yeah, you’re so annoying,” you taunt.

Seungcheol doesn’t reply. Instead, he nips at your skin before beginning to suck.

Your eyes widen when you understand his intention. Hickeys are a pain to cover.

“Cheol,” you gasp.

He hums against your neck but doesn’t attempt to move.

“I’m going to stab you with this needle if you don’t stop,” you warn, remembering you still held the threaded needle in your hand.

Seungcheol quickly pins your hands to the mattress before sucking harder.

“B-babe,” you gasp, trying not to focus on his mouth too much because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of liking it.

Seungcheol pulls away with a small pop. He wipes the area with his fingers, a large smirk on his plush lips.

You glare at him.

“Wanna continue being annoying? There’s still plenty of room for more.”

“Room for more what?” A new voice interrupts.

You yelp and quickly bring your free hand to cover your new bruise while Seungcheol moves to sit next to you.

“Seoah! Knock!” you hiss when you see your sister, setting the needle on the nightstand. Unfortunately, she’s not alone. Her two friends stand behind her, eyes wide.

Great.

“All of you out. Right now!” you demand, not caring that they’re guests in your home.

“Don’t be rude to them. And it’s not our fault you guys were too busy sucking faces to hear us knocking.”

You're sure you would’ve heard them regardless, but rather than prolong her visit by arguing, you groan and ask, “What do you want?”

“We just wanted to ask for a ride to the ice cream shop downtown.”

“You’re old enough to drive,” you scoff.

“Oh yeah, but with what car?” Seoah rolls her eyes.

“Dad’s car.”

“He left earlier.”

“Take the bus.”

“Too gross.”

“Don’t be so snobby.”

“As if you would take the bus yourself!” Seoah huffs.

You sigh knowing she’s not wrong.

“I can take them,” Seungcheol speaks up.

“You’re not their chauffeur; you don’t have to,” you say.

He shrugs. “It’s no problem. I’ll come back after, okay?”

He stands and grabs his keys off your nightstand.

You’re about to protest more, but then you realize he’ll probably be playing twenty questions with the kids. He deserves it after what he just did. So, smiling, you nod.

“Okay. See you soon.”

Seungcheol’s face drops upon seeing your strange smile.

“I know I can always count on you, Seungcheol!” Seoah exclaims and runs over to give him a big hug. “We’ll wait by your car.”

“Come on guys,” Seoah instructs. Her two friends linger, eyes staring at Seungcheol in what are obviously heart eyes.

You snort quietly. They’re way too young for him, plus he’s already spoken for, but you still can’t help being irritated by their little crushes.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, a little snappier than intended.

“Right! Sorry! We’re going,” one of them rushes as they grab the other’s hand to pull them from the room.

When they’re out of view, you release an annoyed puff of air and drop your hand from your neck.

You expect Seungcheol to scold you for being mean to the children, but instead, he laughs softly.

“Cute,” he hums, staring down at you.

“Be quiet,” you snarl.

Seungcheol’s eyes drift down to your neck. He smiles, then squats and grabs your wrists.

“I’m yours,” he reassures, despite knowing Seoah’s friends will never have a chance with him.

“And if this,” he reaches up to brush his fingertips against the hickey, “isn’t an indication, know you’re mine too.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your smile. Regardless, Seungcheol can still see it.

“You sure you don’t want to move in with me?” Seungcheol questions, a little playfully considering what just happened.

“I think you’ll distract me more,” you reply with a knowing smile.

“I’ll be good,” he pauses, “for a reasonable amount of time.”

You chuckle, but your mood soon dims. 

Releasing a sigh, “You know I want to.”

Seungcheol nods and rubs your arms.

“He’s doing better, and Seoah’s growing up well. She’s always welcomed over.”

You glance down in your lap.

Your father has been trying harder to be the dad he’s supposed to be. He’s been cooking more, driving Seoah to school more, saving more to get her her own car. Still, you’re nervous things will go south and you’ll have to step up again.

“I’ll be back soon, ‘kay?” Seungcheol says.

“Okay,” you reply.

Seungcheol smiles and gives you a tender kiss before retrieving his keys from his pocket.

“Lock up behind me,” he instructs gently.

“Okay.”

You follow him to the door, exchanging one last kiss then shutting and locking the door behind him.

Maybe you’re staying in the past too much, but it’s hard to walk away from a life you’re so used to—from worries you’re so used to having.

You make your way to your bedroom again, rolling back your shoulders.

Enough of that.

You would rather focus on the hell Seungcheol is probably going through during the car ride.

Seungcheol grips his steering wheel, finally understanding why you smiled so uncannily sweet earlier.

“Was she hiding her neck because you gave her a hickey?” Seoah asks, not even five minutes into the drive.

“I don’t know what hickeys are and neither should you!” Seungcheol huffs.

“We’re not that young!” One of her friends, Tammi he learned, scoffs.

“So, was she?” the other, Sunhee, asks.

“Did you actually suck on my sister’s neck?” Seoah gasps, making mock gagging noises.

“Can you suck on mine?” Tammi questions.

Seungcheol nearly stomps on the brakes but forces his foot to relax.

“W-what?” he asks, wishing he heard wrong.

“That’s gross, Tam!” Seoah exasperates.

“No, it’s not! I just want to know if it tickles,” Tammi explains.

“Look, that’s—” Seungcheol starts.

“You’re asking for a death wish, Tammi,” Sunhee whispers but it’s loud enough to still hear.

“What do you mean?” Tammi wonders.

“Seoah’s sister will kill you.”

Seungcheol tries to suppress his laugh. He knows they’re not wrong, but it’s amusing to hear nonetheless.

“Are you two really together or are you just a fling?” Tammi asks Seungcheol, searching for his gaze in the rear-view mirror.

Seungcheol’s eyes widen at her question. First, was she seriously hitting on him? Second, how does she know about flings?!

“They’re actually together!” Seoah scoffs. “You gotta find your own boyfriend to suck on your neck. You can’t take away my future brother-in-law.”

Seungcheol chokes but the sound gets covered with Tammi’s whining.

“They’re hard to find.”

“How did you and Seoah’s sister meet, Seungcheol?” Sunhee asks.

“We met in college,” Seungcheol answers, thankfully having enough time to recover from Seoah’s comment.

“I have to wait until college to find someone?” Tammi whines.

Seungcheol chuckles. “No, that’s just how Yn and I met.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Sunhee questions.

Seungcheol’s heart stutters for a moment at the mention of love. It’s been two months since he started dating you, yet that word has never dropped. It’s not like he hasn’t tried either, but any time he does, you make an excuse to change topics. He wants to ask why, but he’s nervous about your answer.

Seoah laughs loudly. “Yeah right! They hated each other’s guts!”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Seungcheol mutters. Although it’s true you weren’t his number-one fan, he’d like to hope you didn’t despise him that much.

“Maybe not for you! You didn’t hear Yn talking to Dae about you.”

“Then why do you like her if she doesn’t like you?” Tammi asks.

“We just had a rough start,” Seungcheol explains, taking note of her use of tenses. “We’re good now.”

“Hm,” Tammi grumbles.

Seungcheol purses his lips momentarily. For some reason, it doesn’t feel good that his relationship is being questioned by a teenager.

Unfortunately, they don’t quiet down. They at least change topics, however, and only ask embarrassing questions every once in a while.

“Thanks, Cheol!” Seoah says through the rolled-down window once they arrive. “My dad said he’ll come pick us up in a bit. He’s not too far from here.”

“I can wait until he comes,” Seungcheol offers.

“No, thank you! We’re old enough to not be chaperoned.”

“Well, just stick together, okay?”

Seoah laughs. “I appreciate you looking after me. I’ll be sure to tell Yn about it.”

“Hey, that’s not why I—”

“I know,” she reassures with a playful smile. “Oh, and I’m sorry about my friends. They’re just playing around.”

“No worries,” Seungcheol replies.

“You going back to my place?” she questions.

“Yeah, Yn’s expecting me.”

Seoah smiles. “Just for your information, I’ll be fine if she moves out. I trust Dad will keep on his Good-Father-Streak.”

Seungcheol returns the smile, feeling his heart warm at Seoah’s care and attentiveness toward you. He figured as such, but it’s nice hearing it directly. 

“If she does and things go awry, know you’re always welcome at mine,” Seungcheol says genuinely.

“Noted. I haven’t forgotten about your big guest bed! That thing was comfy as fu—dge.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Anyway,” Seoah trails off. “Thanks for the ride!”

“Anytime, Seoah,” Seungcheol says. He waits until she reunites with her friends inside, then drives back to your house.

He can’t help but think about the fact you’re avoiding the L-word. Is it because you don’t love him back? Are you thinking this is temporary? If so, what are you waiting for to break up? Are you using him for his money? Are you not happy being with him anymore?

When Seungcheol arrives at your house, he pushes those thoughts away. He wants to discuss them with you, but not here. Not when anyone could waltz in the room.

“How was the ride?” you ask when you answer the door.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Seungcheol growls and steps inside, making you walk backward to let him in. Seungcheol shuts and locks the door without looking at it. He simply stares at you.

“What did I do?” you frown.

Seungcheol grabs your hips and pulls you close. He knows you’re faking it.

“You know one of those girls asked me to give them a hickey,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “They did what?! Which one asked?”

“Can’t tell. She thinks you’ll kill her if you find out,” he smiles.

“Ah, so she’s not totally dumb,” you mumble.

Seungcheol squeezes your hips.

“Don’t be mean,” he scolds lightly.

“Then tell her don’t flirt with someone who’s mine,” you huff and slide your arms around his neck as if emphasizing your point.

Seungcheol smirks, rubbing your hips in satisfaction with your response.

“Want to know what I told her?” Seungcheol asks.

“If it wasn’t a big ‘hell fucking no,’ then I rather skip the details.”

Seungcheol leans closer to your ear. “I told her I have my girl waiting at home, body empty of my marks.”

Your arms tighten in shock. “N-not here.”

“Why not? No one’s here. And plus,” he murmurs while lowering his hands over your ass, “you’re still in trouble.”

Seungcheol squeezes your ass roughly, one of his hands gliding down to graze your slit through your pants.

You gasp, body leaning into his from the pressure he’s putting against you.

“You wanna stay at my place tonight?” he asks, fingers rubbing your core slightly harder.

You let out a small whine and nod. “Y-yeah.”

He smirks and moves his hands to rest on your hips lightly. You resist the urge to move his hand back between your legs.

“I thought so. Now, go get packed. I wanna leave when your family gets back,” he instructs.

“You’re bossy when you’re needy,” you comment, yet adhere to his words and head to your bedroom as you look forward to tonight.

Seungcheol gives your ass a sharp slap as you turn. “I never hear a complaint.”

You bite your lip and continue forward. There’s no reason to argue when he’s right.

“I should cover this up,” you mumble as you stare at your neck in the mirror.

“Why?” Seungcheol asks as he lays on your bed. He tucks one arm behind his head while he retrieves his phone with the other. 

“I don’t want my family to see,” you explain while you grab your makeup bag.

“Fine, but it comes off as soon as we get to my place.”

You smirk when you meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Yes, sir.”

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow up, tossing his phone on the mattress before coming to stand behind you. His hands start on your shoulders and drag down until they rest on your thighs.

“You’ve tested me enough today,” he huffs, chest pressing into you. He spreads your legs, then dips one hand in your pants, causing you to gasp and grip your seat.

“M-my family–” you try to warn, but Seungcheol kisses the corner of your mouth to shush you.

“We’ll be quick.”

A/N: So, fun fact, I started writing this before I ever finished "pretty please (stay with me)". i was stuck at one part but felt like writing this couple aha. tho, it did take a turn i didn't plan 😅

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics more anonymously and privately. ^-^

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

hiiii i learned your name Aiden!!! How are you? Hallow i’m the sugu angst anon, sadly not asking for angst because poor sugu need a break and i love him so much so he deserves the whole world, i wanna thank you for writing my requests 🫶

and if you wanna consider 👀 perhaps an au where sugu didn’t spiral into the whole monkeys thing and so he is a teacher just like satoru? and he’s dating reader whose also a teacher, and they’re in a secret relationship that got revealed and gojo feels betrayed LMAO, anddd that’s all, hope you’re doing great! 🫶

Angsty Anon, how are you!? I love your requests, it's always a pleasure to write for you 💙💙 and yeah, I'm Aiden! I'm only now realizing I've never properly introduced myself on here, so, I guess this is my official introduction lol. And of course, I would love to consider Sugu as a teacher, that's so cute!

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Starring Suguru Geto, in a slightly softer world.

Have you ever heard of the multiverse theory? It gets switched around and misinterpreted a lot, but the basic premise of it is that for every possible outcome, there is a universe that follows it. So, for example, if you're on a walk one morning, and come across a fork in the road, you may choose the left path. When you do this, another universe is created in which you choose the right path, and yet another still where you didn't go on any walk at all.

As such, this implies that there are some fundamental truths across all universes. Every universe you encounter will have stars in the sky, and a force of gravity will keep everyone down. You won't find a universe where atoms aren't the building blocks of life. You won't find a universe that doesn't have a sun in its center. And you won't find a universe where Suguru Geto is a morning person. 

He all but yells into his pillow as his alarm sounds off at 5:45 AM. He considers violence, a possible war crime against his phone for committing the egregious sin of waking him up before the sun is even up. He considers aggressively turning the alarm off and going back to sleep, letting the world continue on without him as he becomes one with his comforter. 

And in the end he does none of it. He turns his alarm off like a normal person, and forces himself out of bed at the truly ungodly hour of 5:45 AM. Why you ask? Because class starts at 7 AM, and the kids he teaches are relying on him to show up and be a model jujutsu sorcerer, just like they are for all of the other teachers at Jujutsu High. And just as it is a fundamental truth that Suguru Geto is not a morning person, it's a fundamental truth that he would do absolutely anything for those he loves. And Suguru loves all of those kids, even if they can get a little annoying at times. 

He’s falling asleep while brushing his teeth when he gets his first text of the day from you. A short and sweet “Good morning sweetie 💜” to give him the motivation to push through his morning routine. 

He sends “Good morning to you too Darling 🖤” to you while smiling, finishing up brushing his teeth before mentally preparing himself for the arctic plunge of a shower he’s about to take to finish waking himself up. 

Once he’s dressed and as awake as he’s going to be at 6:00 AM, he goes to check on Nanako and Mimiko out of habit. Of course, he finds their shared room empty, considering they moved into the dorms a week ago when school started. 

“Right.” He grumbled to himself, shaking his head. At this point, it feels like he’ll never get used to them not being around. He wondered how Satoru adapted so quickly when Megumi moved into the dorms. Then again, Satoru seemed to be made for adaptation, meanwhile, Suguru had always struggled more with change. 

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, A car horn blared through the quiet suburb. “What is he-?!” Suguru snapped at the air before rushing outside and into his friends car.

“What the hell are you doing Satoru?!” He asked, suddenly very awake.

“Letting you know I’m here.” Gojo smiled as he pulled out of Sugurus drive way and onto the road.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but could you not have just texted me?” Suguru grumbled, “You’re going to wake up the entire neighborhood!”

“My phones dead.” Satoru shrugged. He had a habit of passing out while scrolling tik tok and forgetting to put his phone on the charger. 

“And I suppose knocking on my door was out of the question?” Suguru asked. Gojo clearly did not see the issue with violating air pollution laws, and it was starting to irk him.

“In the rain? No way dude!” He laughed. It was at this point Geto looked out the window. Well shit, it was raining. He was so focused on just getting to the car he managed to miss it. 

“It’s like, barely raining.” He argued with his friend. The white haired main beside him just shrugged.

“Hey man, you’re lucky I give you a ride at all,” Gojo reminded him, “I could just teleport to school.” Suguru would have tried to argue with that, but he knew better than to enter an argument on the losing side. He just sighed and shook his head.

“Whatever man….thanks for the ride.” He added at the end.

“You’re welcome!” Gojo smiled. Suguru sighed as he got comfortable in the seat, leaning against the window. The main reason he got rides from Gojo was so he could take a nap on the way to the school. It was a long drive, and the thirty minutes he spent passed out in Gojos car went a long way to making him not an asshole to his class in the morning. It felt like his eyes had been closed for all of two seconds before Satrou was waking him up, letting him know they had made it to their destination. 

“Good morning Geto, good morning Gojo!” You greeted the men as they joined you in the teachers lounge. Suguru smiled warmly when he saw your face, familiar and bright, even at 6:30 in the morning. 

“Good morning L/n.” Geto yawned as he rushed to the coffee pot in the room, still half full.

“Morning L/n!” Satoru beamed as he sat next to you. Normally, the three of you were on a first name basis, but a professional setting calls for professional dialect. “So, you two do anything fun on your weekend?” Gojo asked. Geto looked at you from the corner of his eyes, seeing how you handled this situation. You would have stolen a glance at him, but Gojo would have definitely noticed that.

“Eh, not much really,” You shrugged, “I went and visited my parents, and mostly just tried to catch up on reading.” That was definitely, 100% not what you were doing this weekend. In actuality, you had spent the entire weekend with Suguru. The two of you had seen a movie, checked out his favorite soba shop, and spent the vast majority of the time cuddled in his bed watching horror movies to get ready for ‘spooky season’ despite the fact in was, indeed, April. 

But you couldn’t say any of that to Gojo. You and Suguru were co-workers, your romantic relationship wasn’t just discouraged and taboo- the employee handbook strictly forbid it. As much as the two of you wanted to tell your shared best friend about the beautiful relationship you’d found, you couldn’t. Mostly cause Satoru couldn’t keep a secret to save his ass.

“Cool! What about you Suguru?” Gojo smiled as he looked to his best friend, deciding for now that professional language was for the birds.

“Eh, I mostly stayed in. I re-watched the scream movies.” He shrugged as he drank his black coffee.

“Isn’t it kinda early to be watching horror movies? Or, I guess late?” Gojo asked. 

“It is never too early for spooky movies.” You said, jumping to Getos defense maayybe just a little too quickly. Gojo raised his eyebrows at you. 

“So I see were feeling a little defensive.” He pointed out. 

“Not defensive, I’m just saying. It’s always horror movie time if you’re not a coward.”

“Hey, I-”

“Uhh, Sensei?” Itadori asked as he popped his head into the door. Immediately all attention went to him, and silently, you thanked the pink haired boy for saving your ass.

“Hey Itadori! What’s up?” Gojo asked, all smiles for his student. 

“I could really use your help with the algebra assignment from last night,” Itadori explained, “I don’t think I really grasp…well numbers.” He explained. Gojo chuckled and shook his head, but didn’t argue cause he, like Geto, knew better than to argue with the truth.

“Yeah Kid, no problem. Let’s go to the classroom.” Satoru said, getting up and letting Itadori lead the way. There was a heavy silence that filled the room after, both of you listing to Satoru’s footsteps until they vanished. Once they were gone, you both let out a deep breath.

“Well that could have gone worse.” Suguru chuckled softly.

“Yeah, that was my bad,” You sighed, “I swear, he looks into the littlest of things.”

“That’s Satoru.” Suguru confirmed with a nod, “Always suspicious of something. Somethings never change.” He shrugged. You looked around, making sure the coast we clear before standing up to give Suguru a quick hug. 

“Ain’t that the truth.” You chuckled. Suguru smiled as he held you close, his mind wondering off to the other things that never seemed to change. The school, sorcerer society as a whole, the way he felt for you- even all the way back in high school. He had a crush on you even before you saved him, and it only intensified after.

Of course, as far as you’re concerned you didn’t save anyone that day in the graveyard. You just talked some sense into an old friend. You would never know just how close to the edge Suguru was that day. How could you? All you knew was that his faith was shaken, and he needed some reassurance. 

He could still go back to that afternoon in his mind like replaying a movie. He could still see the gray skies of fall, heavy with dark clouds. He could still smell the rain water and grave dirt hanging in the air. And could still sense the confusion he felt when you brought him to your best friends grave. He had never met the girl, she had died to a curse long before you enrolled in Jujutsu High. So why were you bringing him here now?

“This is where my friend lies,” You explained to him what he already knew. “It’s been a few years now, but I still think of her every day.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Y/n.” He said the only think he knew to say.

“Suguru, why are you a Jujutsu Sorcerer?” You asked, suddenly looking at him with overly intense eyes that made him feel so small. Why did he was he a Jujutsu Sorcerer? He didn’t fucking know! Especially not anymore. He used to know. But, he lost that direction. After Riko died. After Haibara died. He didn’t know what the point to any of this was anymore.

“Why are you a Jujutsu Sorcerer?” He asked back, not so smoothly dodging the question. You just pointed at the grave.

“For her. And for you, and for Riko and Haibara. For everyone I have loved and will love, I do it to protect them.” You explained it as if it was just that easy. And maybe it was. For you.

“How are we protecting them exactly?” He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Please, tell me just how exactly we protected Riko and Haibara?” He questioned.

“We protect them in death.” You shrugged, “Honor what they would have wanted. Do you really think Riko would want you to waste the life she so desperately wanted because of her death? Do you think Haibara would have wanted you to throw away all of your potential because some higher ups fucked him over? Or do you think they would want you to live your life to the fullest, and work hard to see that potential fulfilled?”

“I think they would want us to fight for a fundamental change in the system. For a world without curses.” 

“Suguru, you and I both know that’s not possible.”

“But it is,” He argued, saying things out loud he had only thought up until now, “Humans are the only ones to produce curses, you know.”

“So what? You’re just going to kill all humans?” You scoffed at the absurdity of the idea, and he genuinely felt a little embarrassed. “What would that fix?”

“Well, there would be no curses, for one.” He pointed out.

“And what would that achieve?”

“We wouldn’t have to watch our friends and family die at the hands of disgusting curses!” He argued, frustrated that you couldn’t see his vision.

“No, we would just have to watch them die at the hands of other sorcerers, right?” You pointed out. “A world without curses doesn’t fix the cruelty that created them. Curses aren’t what killed Riko, and removing them won’t bring back Haibara.”

“No, Humans killed Riko.” He could still hear that god forsaken cult, clapping away as if a little girl hadn’t just been slaughtered. No, worse. Clapping away because a little girl had just been slaughtered. It was all he could hear late at night. You sighed and nodded.

“That's true. She was killed by a human, who was raised by sorcerers.”

“So are you trying to argue that actually sorcerers are the root of all evil?”

“No Suguru, I’m trying to argue that there is no “Root of all evil.” That it’s all just beings that exist. There are bad humans, of course. Just like how there are bad sorcerers. Everything that exists exists with some good and some bad. You can’t just fix the world with one final, fucked up solution.”

“I just don’t see the point in trying to save people who historically treat us like were fucking disposable!” Suguru snapped, hating that it was starting to seem really hopeless. Were you right? Was there really nothing he could do?

“Sugu, I think you’re getting caught in the details. You’re not seeing the forest for the trees.” You sighed. “ Yes, the Star Cult was full of the most fowl people. And yeah, a lot of humans do treat us like shit. But there are just as many humans who are kind to us. Humans who see their children's cursed techniques as blessings, not curses. Humans willing to die if it means being there for the sorcerers they love and standing by them. Humans like your parents, and my best friend. Humans that are worth protecting.”

“So we have to protect them all just because a few are good?”

“Would you protect a bad person to save me?” You asked. He hadn’t really thought of it like that. It was a moral question he wasn’t ready for, and struggled to find an answer to.

“I mean, I guess I would.” He finally said. 

“Exactly. That’s kinda the point of Jujutsu Sorcery for me. It’s not to protect the world- that’s too monumental of a task even for Satoru Gojo. It’s to protect the ones I love and care for.”

“And what about when we can’t protect them?” He could feel the tears prickle as his eyes now, a stinging that demanded attention. He rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to make it go away.

“Then I live to honor them, in a way I think would make them proud. I understand where you’re coming from. Heartache is a hell of a thing to battle, and witnessing a young death changes a person. But, continuing to perpetuate that hurt, won’t make it go away. Especially when it comes to such grandiose ideas like “kill all humans!” it doesn’t fix anything. It just hurts the people around you, both with us and departed. I mean, is slaughtering a billion strangers really worth ruining the people closest to you? The ones who love you? Please, don’t let your hate kill you Suguru.”

He didn’t know what to say. But that line rang in his ears. Please, don’t let your hate kill you Suguru. It drowned out the clapping in his mind. Please, don’t let your hate kill you Suguru. It played louder than Yuki telling him that humans were the only ones to create curses, and that he knew what he believed. Please, don’t let your hate kill you Suguru. And it was what was playing in his ears as he stared at two kids in a cage. Scared, alone, neglected. He felt it then, his hate rise up like bile in his throat, threatening to slaughter him. Please, don’t let your hate kill you Suguru. Please, don’t let your hate kill you Suguru.

He took a minuet to breathe. Was killing this village really going to do anything? It would feel good, yeah- righteous even. But there were a million more like it. And he couldn’t single handedly slaughter them all. Not without hurting You, Gojo, Shoko, Riko, Haibara, and his own mother all in the process. Were a billion strangers worth the people he loved? 

“You know, if you don’t want these girls in the village, there’s a better way to handle it.” That night he adopted Nanako and Mimiko. Sure, he may not be able to save every Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world. But at least he could save these two. A few weeks later, that village burned to the dirt in a forest fire, so maybe karma was real. 

The bell ringing broke his train of thought, and snapped him back to the real world. You smiled as you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you at lunch!” You winked to him as you grabbed your bag and made your way to your classroom. He smiled softly as he watched you go. 

“Yeah, see you then.” He said, making his way to his own classroom. 

Suguru swore up and down his class wasn’t hard. It was classical literature, if ya just read the book, and did the assignments, he was pretty generous with the A’s. It was why conversations like this were always at least mildly amusing to him. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re being to difficult about this” Nobara argued, “It’s just a few points!”

“Nobara, rounding from a C to an A is not a few points. It’s an entire letter grade.” He gently reminded her. 

“Yeah, and what’s an entire letter grade if not just a few points?” She argued back. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Nobara had always been a forced to be reckoned with, and was always determined to get what she wanted.

“Look, Nobara, I’ll compromise with you. You know the big report we have coming up on Fires on the Plain?”

“I do.” She confirmed.

“If you do really well on it, And I mean really well, I need you to make at least an A on it- I’ll bump your grade to a B+” That was where her grade would be at anyway if she made an A on the report, “Sound good?” Nobora grinned like she got away with something.

“Oh yeah, I could do that in my sleep!” She declared, and Suguru had to hold back a laugh, “You’re on Sensei!” She grinned, muttering a soft ‘sucker’ under her breath as she left the room. Once she was gone, Suguru let his chuckle out. It was always fun tricking his students into accidentally taking their studies serious. 

“Whats got you giggling?” You asked from his doorway, a small smile creeping onto your lips from the sound of his light laughter.

“Oh, nothing,” He said with a wave of his hand, “Just my students thinking they’re gaming the system by-” He pretended to check his notes- “Doing the work.”

“Let me guess, Nobara?”

“It was Nobara.” He confirmed, and you both let out a small giggle. You walked into his classroom and leaned against his desk facing him. 

“Very on brand for her. So, have you thought about dinner tonight?” You asked. He smiled and nodded, getting out of his chair to come and wrap his arms around your waist. Was it risky? Kind of, everyone was out to lunch, sure, but that didn’t mean that you two weren’t out in the open. He couldn’t help it though. Whenever you were around, he had to have his arms around you. He didn’t spend almost 6 years chasing your affections to not hold you whenever he could. 

“I have actually,” He smiled, “I thought we could cook something together tonight? I found a new pork belly recipe that seemed right up your ally.”

“Oooo, another night in! How exciting!” You giggled. And you meant it too. While to most people, a night in was a boring everyday thing, Jujutsu Sorcerers weren’t blessed with the luxury of having a night at home promised to them. They weren’t even guaranteed the simple pleasure of coming home at night. So, a night in to the two of you was fun, exciting, and unquantifiably valuable. 

“I thought you’d be excited,” He smiled lovingly at you. You look so precious in his arms. He couldn’t believe something as beautiful and pristine as you found any value in him. That you had found him worthy of the time it took to save him. Suguru wasn’t a religious man, but he thought maybe he could believe in angels if they were half as perfect as you were. He had no idea what he did to earn the right to have you as his angel, but he was so fucking happy he did it.

His swelling emotions got the better of him, and he leaned down to kiss you. A warm current flowed between the two of you, the familiar taste of cinnamon coffee filling your senses as you melted into him. He was comforting and safe, and in his embrace you were almost convinced nothing bad could ever happen. 

“OH, I KNEW IT!” Of course something bad had to happen. The two of you scrambled away from each other, looking at Gojo like two teenagers that had been caught making out in your parents car. It was actually embarrassing. “I KNEW YOU TWO HAD A THING!”

“Satoru, It’s not what it looks like!” You panicked.

“Yeah, It’s not like that, Y/n just…had something on her face! I was wiping it off.”

“With your mouth!?” Gojo scoffed.

“...Yes?” Someone, take away Suguru’s lying privileges. Your face hit your plam at the lame lie, and Gojo rolled his eyes.

“I’d asked if you guys thought I was dumb, but clearly you do! Why would you keep this from me?” He all but whined as he fully entered the classroom.

“Well Satoru, it’s…well..” You tried to think of something to save his feelings.

“There are celebrity tabloids better at keeping secrets than you Satoru.” Nevermind Suguru, go back to lying.

“Hey, that’s not true!” Satoru said on his own defense, “When Shoko started smoking again I kept that secret!”

“Shoko started smoking again?” You gasped.

“...fuck.” Satoru whispered. 

“See Satoru! That’s what we mean.” Suguru sighed, seeing his job flash before his eyes. 

“It’s still not cool!” Gojo pouted, “My two closest friends in the entire world fall in love and they won’t even tell me! No wonder you guys haven’t wanted to hang out on the weekends. You’ve been together, haven’t you!?” You and Suguru looked down in shame. Maybe it wasn’t exactly fair to keep him completely out of the loop. 

“Do you guys hate me?” Gojo asked, the betrayal he felt seeping into his voice. 

“No, Satoru, we love you!” You assured him.

“You’re our best friend, of course we love you!” Suguru confirmed, “We just also like being able to pay rent!”

“Paying rent is so important!” You nodded. 

“I wouldn’t tell anyone!” Satoru insisted, “I would never do anything to put your livelihoods at risk! I thought you guys would have known that.” He pouted. 

“We do know that,” You sighed.

“Do we?” Suguru whispered, just for you to swiftly pat him to remind him to behave.

“We were just being cautious. I’m sorry we hurt your feelings Satoru.” You apologized as you went to your wounded friend, patting his back for comfort. Suguru joined you on his other side.

“Yeah man, I’m sorry. We’ll try and keep you in the loop about more things, okay?” Suguru promised. Satoru sniffled and nodded. 

“Okay…I forgive you guys.” He said, looking up and smiling at the two of you. “So when do I get to come to date night?”

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Synopsis: after a show Harry is full of adrenaline and has a cold bath to cool down…. Will you grit your teeth and join him or back out of it.

Harry x fem! Reader

Warnings: light smut! I wasn’t even planning on it LMAO. It just happened.

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

Adrenaline rush

“Wembley you’ve been unbelievable tonight. If you’ve been supporting me for one year, five years, 13 years… whatever it is you have changed my life over and over and over again…” Harry smiled at the crowd who were screaming, a warm smile remaining on his lips before he pulled his face away from the mic coughing slightly determined to not tear up, tour was slowly coming to an end and although he was thoroughly glad he was also very sad… he was going to miss the hell out of touring and seeing all these beautiful beautiful people. “Now we’re gonna finish these shows and then I’m going to go away for a little bit…” an immediate scream of “NO” coming from the audience “no you can’t!” The voices yelled out “BUT… but…” Harry spoke “I want to tell you that I will miss you and I have loved you so so much over these last couple years with this tour. Thank you so much for making this absolutely the greatest experience of my life. Thank you so so much. We hope you had a good time with us tonight! Goodnight beautiful people of Wembley!!!”

Your wide excited eyes watched your boyfriend close up the show before he came running off the stage, adrenaline pumping through his veins before he handed the microphone to one of the staff members before he ran to you, arms encircling around your waist as he lifted you up into his embrace walking forwards with you in his arms “that was so beautiful Harry!” You said eyes full of happiness, your arms wrapped around his neck, staring into his eyes lovingly before you pressed a kiss to his lips. He was all warm and sweaty but you could care less. You watched from the corner of your eye as Lloyd took a picture of the sweet moment between you and Harry you knowing that would ultimately become your favourite picture by the end of the night… you would indefinitely set it as your Lock Screen picture.

“Your cold bath is ready, harry.” One of Harry’s team members spoke “thanks man” Harry spoke before slowly placing you down back onto the floor, pressing a kiss to your lips before smiling “you wanna join?” He asked with a small smirk “but it’s cold.” You spoke with a pout, Harry rolling his eyes playfully “I promise to keep you warm.” He spoke his fingers entangling with yours before he practically dragged you to his dressing room, the medium sized bathtub sat there it’s cold peaceful waters awaiting for you to submerge within it. You shut the door behind you before you pulled your dress off, leaving you in your bra and underwear, harry tossing a piece of gum into his mouth before he too undressed picking up his swimming shorts from the side of the bathtub before pulling them on,

“Alright my love… you bare the waters first…” he spoke with an evil grin and you whined softly Harry holding his hand out towards you which you eventually took fingertips digging into the palm of his hand as you carefully and slowly got into the bath “AH. It’s cold. Jesus Christ harry!” He let out a soft laugh, adrenaline still pumping “it’s alright baby you’ll get used to it. I promise.” He too then got in, standing behind you, before he took a seat, a slight shudder coming from him but his attention soon turned to you as he leaned back into the bath “alright sit down.. I’ve got you don’t worry.” He spoke hands gripping onto your hips gently as you slowly began to lower yourself down into the ice cold water your lower lip trembling. It wasn’t even fucking Luke warm it was Antarctica type freezing. The water splashed around you as you sat down in between his legs a little squeal coming from you at the cold water swishing across your clothed breasts, Harry’s muscular tattooed arms wrapping gently around your stomach, pulling you into the warmth of him as you shivered “relax…” he eased softly into your ear, his fingertips delicately stroking up and down your side, lips slowly pressing from the nape of your neck and all the way down to your shoulder leaving little open mouthed kisses each kiss that he pressed to your skin forced you to relax back into him, eyes fluttering shut blissfully your head coming to rest against his shoulder as he continued delicately kissing your skin

“See? Not so bad after all…” he chuckled softly, continuing to kiss against your skin softly, his hand snaking further around your stomach before trailing down to your thighs his fingers gently stroking against the tops of your thighs as he continued kissing against your skin. It wasn’t often that you and him had after show intimacy. Usually you both went out for a meal and just loved on each other… but this was different… Wembley clearly brought out a different side to him. He was fucking feral but you loved it. “Relax. I’ve got you..” he murmured carefully and very softly into your ear, voice dropping down slightly as he slowly and very easily slid your panties to the side, two fingers stroking up and down your slit your eyes fluttering shut, body reacting in the most delicious ways, the water swishing gently as his wrist began slowly moving up and down- teasing against you, lips continuing to suck against your neck gently

“I love you.. so much y/n.” He murmured softly before he slowly slid a finger into you, your reciprocation being cut short as a soft gasp left your lips soon followed by a quick and needy “love you too..” your head rolled against his shoulder, your hands reaching up to play with his hair as he added another finger, his fingers slowly thrust it in and out, water continuing to gently splash like a comforting warm ocean on a hot summers day, peaceful and calm, the storm brewing within your stomach as soft moans left your lips, Harry’s other hand following a pattern- stroking against your stomach slowly before moving down to your thighs, making sure to keep them from clamping. He was teasing you all over the once freezing cold water now seemingly boiling hot from how hot and needy you were getting. He did things to you… things you didn’t like to admit… but fuck did he drive you crazy. “You gonna cum hm?” He asked into your ear a soft chuckle leaving his lips, his eyes slowly moving to look to the door where he heard movement coming from “yeah?” He asked you softly your slight hip movement proving it, before his free hand slid up, his hand slowly moving to stroke against your cheek before covering your mouth “I’ve got you…” he reassured once more in a soft comforting tone, yet you could hear the smirk on his face… this was an adrenaline rush in itself… but fuck… you’d do anything and everything for Harry. And he would do anything and everything for you.

[verdantlights]

Modern AU Headcanons

For all 7 of my ocs!! :3

all of their ethnicities/nationalities are canon to the ALNST universe too, but theyre just more applicable in a modern au.

The artwork I did for each of them isnt fully colored like how i originally planned, simply because this took FUCKING FOREVER. (17 hours??? all 7 ocs just to this basic color with 17 hours and 25k strokes??? according to procreate???) and i was so ready to be done with it, ive been talking about this for like ages and i knew that if i didnt finish this before Blink Gone dropped,,,, itd never get finished.

i also have other stuff i need/want to work on in regards to my ocs SO. if the art looks half-assed, im calling it a design choice 🎀

Toki (Redone):

He'd be a dancer that runs a choreography channel on youtube and tiktok. A really popular/famous content creator.

He's Asian! (South Korean)

Fluent in English/Korean.

Would probably face a lot of controversy for making strange jokes about cannibalism, but he never stays down when cancelled. (hes so schlatt core)

He's not a horrible person in a modern au. He's relatively normal, if not for the fact that he is still an orphan and still clinically mentally ill. He's just not toxic. He still has his cunt and freak but... he just doesn't manipulate, mansplain, and manslaughter anymore.

He's only toxic and awful as hell in ALNST because of the dystopian circumstances. His toxicity is seasoning to the tragedy that is ALNST.

He is still an orphan and his first memories would be in the orphanage where he was pretty much alone. People thought he was strange.

I'd like to believe he was selectively mute for quite a long time, which was another reason why people called him strange.

Still has the habit of studying peoples behaviors and learning them entirely for his own benefit. He wouldn't use it against someone unless absolutely necessary in a modern au.

He gets adopted when he's 13 by a kind, older man. He homeschools Toki and puts him in sports and recreational activities of his choice.

Toki chooses gymnastics and dance, contorting and moving his body at his will gives him a sense of control that he always felt he was never privileged to.

He didn't start talking until he was 16. His first words were, "Thank you, dad."

As an adult, as I said above, Toki runs a choreo channel on tiktok and youtube that gets a lot of traction. He enjoys having fans because it makes him feel less alone.

He's still possessive over Inna, but it's only because Toki struggles with feeling a sense of belonging and a home to come back to, and Inna becomes that home for him.

He has a streetwear aesthetic!

Of course, Toki still has his obsessive and possessive personality, that will never go away. It ends up rearing his head towards Inna, but I'm pretty sure Inna likes it anyway, the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴.

Didn't go to college because his socmed took off before he graduated, sustaining him really well financially.

Friends with Ichor! Travels to Korea with him sometimes, but usually prefers to stay in America since that's where he was taken to when he was adopted.

Innamorati belongs to @alien-til-i-stage <3

Clove:

He is Latino! (Dominican/Caribbean)

His right eye is a lazy eye and he wears glasses. They're silver round frames that he sometimes puts a neck chain on.

His hair is dyed the same, but the dark brown is really short and cut to be fluffy/messy while keeping his long sides/short bangs!

He has a dark academia aesthetic mixed with a little bit of cottagecore. He's a lot more comfortable in his skin in regards to his gender so he wears skirts and dresses sometimes.

Spends his time at the library a lot, enjoys library dates with Aster (and also coffee shop dates).

He is fluent in Spanish and English.

He only has his ear lobes pierced and keeps small silver studs in them at all times.

Still trans, of course! He gets top surgery and a hysterectomy in a modern au (projecting what I personally want lmao)

All of his siblings are alive, and are still all named after flowers!

His upbringing was really peaceful, if not for having a very alive and loud household with 6 kids, him included.

His parents and siblings are all incredibly accepting and they all helped pitch in to get his top surgery done for his birthday one year <3

He inherited his parents flower shop and runs it now! His parents own the parent company to the flower shop, so all 6 children own one of said shops around the state!

He majored in Biology in college.

A lot of the neglect and trauma he faced in ALNST/ANAKT was only specific to the universe. He would lead a relatively normal and peaceful life, otherwise :)

Aster belongs to @apriciticreveries <3

Horizon:

He is American!

Horizon is incredibly smart and is an astrophysicist! He took it in college and has been hyperfixated on space since he was a kid.

Is the most visibly/recognizably autistic OC out of all of my OCs. All of my OCs are neurodivergent in some way because of my own neurodivergency, but Horizon takes the cake because his modern au mother (based on Scorpius) is also autistic. She raised him to not be forced into a mask.

Scorpius is a single mom and loves space as well, teaching Horizon all about it when he was a kid. Over time she grew more distant and would only connect with her son when its about his interest in space, or in regards to what happens at NASA.

Horizon is aware of his mothers distance and neglect and wishes things could go back to when he was a kid and she wasn't so distant.

He is still a narcolept, but is medicated and in physical therapy to help combat it.

He works at NASA! He makes good money and has discovered a lot of new stars!

He's more vocal in a modern au! He'd still go nonverbal a lot, but he'd also open up more and be less distant.

He still yaps about stars and space as much as possible.

He does not have stars in his eyes. I kinda feel like that goes without saying, but he does have dark grey-blue eyes.

Fond of Seraph and likes to study it. Fully aware something is wrong with it and that it definitely does not belong in his world, but finds it intriguing all the same.

Does not have a set dress style, he mostly dresses for comfort. He does have a lot of NASA merchandise and space/galaxy themed clothing, though. (would 100% have that blue and pink galaxy wolf hoodie at one point)

Seraph:

Still not human, and I will not elaborate as to why!

Also still uses He/Hy/It (Hy/Hymn).

It's a lot creepier in a modern au, actually. This is because the dystopian setting of ALNST makes it a bit more... usual and acceptable for Seraph to be uncanny? However, in a modern au... that's not the case.

People do NOT vibe with it more often than not.

Hy is British.

He is still albino with void-like eyes.

It majors in psychology and went to the same college as Horizon. This is related to his special talent,,, but that isn't released yet. :)

Still horribly enamored with Horizon and follows him around and studies him.

Horizon doesn't mind hymn and honestly knows somethings not right with Seraph, but he doesn't really care and actually likes to study Seraph back. (and seraph couldnt be happier about it, tbh)

Not a lot changes about Seraph, in all honesty. Hy doesn't really belong in the ALNST universe, what makes you think hy'd belong in the modern universe?

The things that do change, like it's echoing voice and it's staticky/distorted laugh, are gone because it personally stopped using them.

It's style is... elegant goth with some... cyber goth? Kinda strange and hard to describe but he does understand the morals and values of goth culture and music and upholds those values.

Lowkey an anarchist but you didn't hear that from me.

He is Horizon's roommate.

Seraph likes to believe their mutual studying of each other is what a romantic relationship entails.

Horizon spoils Seraph a lot... he has to do something with the money he gets from NASA.

He still does not like animals or Ichor.

Ichor:

He is still a catboy. He's not even like... a kemonomimi. He's just a fucking catboy.

If not an actual catboy, he would be a therian and/or kemonomimi. (kemonomimi directly translates to animal ears i believe? kemonomimis are just people who enjoy wearing animal ears/tails.)

He is also Asian! (South Korean)

Has a lot of mixed aesthetics, but enjoys crossdressing (in a cute way) and ouji fashion/lolita.

Autistic with selective mutism and is nonverbal more often than not. He is fluent in both ASL and KSL as well as spoken English/Korean. This is canon to the ALNST universe, but he is fully mute in canon.

Would probably be a professional gymnast. I'm talking like Olympics... professional.

Takes the fame from being a professional gymnast and becomes a content creator to show off his impeccable fashion sense.

100% dating and smitten with Briar. I'm assuming Briar would be a doctor in a modern au (akane, you can correct me if I'm wrong), and if that's the case, then Ichor would make a bunch of "woe is me, I need a doctor" jokes to Briar.

He'd immediately go to Briar if he gets hurt during performances.

Would actually be friends with Toki!! Both as a content creator and as a gymnast. They would get along very well due to overlapping interests, even more so when Ichor learns that Toki was mute for a long time.

Sometimes takes up gigs/jobs as a Sign Translator for both KSL and ASL.

Recognized as a Fashion Idol in Korea.

Frequently travels back and forth between South Korea and America due to this. ^ (his boyfriend misses him...)

Also did not go to college! He went straight into professional gymnastics and makes a living off of it! If he could go back to school, though, he would want to study the arts!

All of his hair is naturally white! He was based off of a white Turkish Angora cat, and since his hair was dyed against his will in ALNST, that wouldn't be the case in the MAU. He's only pink in his art because that's his color <3

Briar belongs to @aakaneeee <3

Lys:

She is Creole and born and raised in Louisiana!

Fluent in both Cajun French and normal French. She was a French immersion kid! (as in she learned french as she learned english in school growing up)

An amazing cook and loves to cook for her family and friends.

Has a brother and a sister, but she is the oldest. She loves her family and is very protective over them, same with her friends.

A big party-goer and social butterfly, she is the life and light of the party. She stays humble about it, but she can't deny how nice it makes her feel that people like her so much.

Dominates karaoke like it's no ones business. She loves singing and was in the church choir growing up.

She grew up Catholic, but is currently Agnostic.

Still a lesbian, and is very open about it. She is a strong advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and goes to as many Pride Parades as possible during pride month.

LOVES HER GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!! EVEREST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her favorite way to wear her hair is super long box braids with bright colored weave, usually orange or red, but she's done the whole rainbow before!

Majors in cosmetology!

Wants to be a fashion designer, and is also building a socmed presence!! Her childhood dream was to work at Hollywood as a SFX/Makeup artist! (She still kinda does, but is okay with working for any movie company, honestly)

Has a streetwear and Y2K aesthetic! She likes to explore a bunch of other fashion cultures, but normally ends up falling back to those two as a base/familiar ground.

Is really good friends with Clove! She knows him through Everest, who had befriended him in overlapping college courses. Clove approached Everest and became friends with him before she introduced Clove to Lys. They all like to hang out together :]

Everest:

She is Australiannnnn!!!!

Still albino!

She does have the sensitive skin and eyesight in the modern world, though. She is not genetically modified, therefore she has really powerful glasses and is covered a lot.

Wears a lot of loose flowy clothing and big sunhats to protect himself from the sun.

Also still intersex!

Still feels 60% femme and 40% masc with very little in between. Doesn't mind being referred to as androgyne, but prefers either or, rather than in between.

She is sapphic and horribly in love with her girlfriend, Lys.

Is a lot less morally grey in a modern au and is a lot more like Luna Lovegood, one of her inspirations.

His morality in ALNST comes from the dystopian setting, being used as a toy for the segyein after winning, and being a pet in general. Since that doesn't happen in the modern day, he doesn't have that trauma to influence him.

She takes second place on most visibly autistic. (Ichor takes third)

Majored in Chemistry and wants to be a chemist.

Has overlapping classes with Clove and is friends with him!

Comes from a pretty wealthy family and was raised prim and proper. Her parents believed she'd be better off presenting as a boy, but once she realized her autonomy, she refused it entirely and told her parents that she will live how she wants and that her body is hers to dictate.

Her parents don't like that she switches back and forth between masc and femme, but she could not give less of a fuck and honestly does it a little bit out of spite.

He still loves his parents... kinda. He has the mentality of "they gave me life and raised me, I should be grateful andlove them all the same." He just wishes they weren't so bitchy over his body and what he does with it. They can't say anything either considering he plans on being a chemist, and they're both very fond of the idea that their child is smart and will bring in more money.

They're also lowkey homophobic and only give Lys a pass because they see Everest as a boy more often than not. They still don't quite like Lys because she is a full lesbian/sapphic and sees Ever as femme.

Enjoys travelling a lot!!

Has a socmed presence through Lys and appears as a duo with her a lot. People love them together and give them a lot of the stereo contrasting ship types (fire/ice, blue/red, black/white, etc)

It not famous on her own! I don't think she would actively seek out a socmed presence of her own and would be content with being featured on Lys' socmed. He was only famous in ALNST for winning s36, he did not ask for that.

thats about it!! sorry its so long, but... i love my children... so...

anyways, taglist!! no pressure to respond <3 @rockwgooglyeyes @bluemoonscape @tsukacchako @starry-skiez @junebluues @yunoftheclouds @waterydream @pwippy @ivanttakethis @nottoonedin

[thegamingcatmom]

Would miranda be jealous if the MC had a lil plushie that's dressed up like her

I'd imagine miranda ignores her for some time or something too distracted in the lab or something, so MC just crafts up a lil birb mama plushie for comfort

Miranda eventually comes back and sees MC snuggled asleep with lil birb mama plushie

Jealous?like in a there can be only one?idk

That´s...

That seems alien, somehow. LMAO.

Not your ask, goodness no! But just...Miranda and "plushie" in the same sentence sent me. 😭

Okay so, as with pretty much everything else, let me take things way too seriously:

First of, MC would need the materials to craft smt like that. Somehow, I don´t think Miranda owns anything besides jars and scalpels and books and...more jars. And some more scalpels.

(God I love that nerd.)

Which means:

MC either has to ask her roommate/master/abductor/lover/smt for those materials (good luck) OR-

...She has to flirt like her life depends on it.

Which...it probs does:

.

Mother M.: *working*

MC: *sneaks up (we´re not gonna talk about the fact that there is no sneaking up on someone like Miranda)*

Mother M.: *working*

MC: *reaches for those massive wings, fully intending to give them the world´s best TLC-*

Mother M.: "Dove."

MC: "...I was just-"

Mother M.: "Do you wish to lose it, little bird?"

MC: "..."

MC: *wisely drops her hand again*

Mother M.: *still working*

MC: *awkward shuffling*

...

Mother M.: "Have you finished the tasks I´ve given you?"

MC: *hasn´t*

MC, stupid bold af: "Of course!"

Mother M., who can smell lies: *stops working*

MC: *starts sweating*

Mother M.: *slowly turns her head to face her*

MC: *swallows*

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: "..."

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: "...Technically."

...

Mother M.: "How can one technically sacrifice someone?"

MC: "...I'm-"

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: "..."

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: "...not sure."

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: "..."

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: *panics*

MC: "You look-"

Mother M.: *stares*

MC: "...plush."

...

Mother M.: *...stares in a mix of irritation and confusion*

MC:

YES THAT´S WHAT FLIRTING LOOKS LIKE WITH THEM I´M AFRAID. 😭

But also: Did yall catch the reference to my other post that was all about pampering Birb Momma? The one that turned into the 1st part of (hopefully) many of my planned series?👉👈

(I guess this just goes to show that Miri isn´t always so...tame. 🤭)

Honestly though: I think that´s as close to a plushie as MC will get. 💀

LISTEN-

miranda ignores her for some time or something too distracted in the lab or something

I mean...duh. That´s like...her default mode? I´d say? MC will have to wait her turn, as per usual. 😅🤷🏻‍♀️

so MC just crafts up a lil birb mama plushie for comfort

Listen...comfort ain´t the first word that comes to mind when it comes to Miranda, lol. That´s why I can´t really see MC crafting something that resembles the very being which keeps her locked up and away from the world cause MC belongs to her and her alone for comfort.

If anything, MC would probs try and use it as a voodoo doll, LMAO. Our girl does love pushing buttons and testing boundaries, after all. 😉

(Better not let Birb Momma catch you though. 👀)

But also, rather than a plush!Miranda, I think a 🐦‍⬛ plushie would be more likely. Or, hell, perhaps even the real deal?? Miranda frequently transforms into a bunch of em, so I can see this being her way of shutting MC up for a while, lol.

...Whether MC is aware the crow that´s been visiting her for the past few days is one of Miranda´s is another question. 😏

...

We´re also not gonna talk about Miranda giving the crow - a part of herself - the stink eye.

No, we´re not.

Mother Miranda doesn´t get jealous, you insolent wretch.

.

.

.

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia - Chapter 2: A Mere Lady (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 2: A Mere Lady

Daemon has returned to King’s Landing. Yet it is not in his nature to sit idle.

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | 

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: That extreme slow burn once more lmao, Daemon being an idiot, Westerosi sexism, mention of violence, Daemon and Y/N bickering like children again

Word Count: 2.9k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Thank you for all the support for the first chapter of Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia! It really warms my heart to see all your reblogs and likes 💗 this chapter is a bit of a filler one, but something big will happen next chapter (can you guess what it is? 👀) I hope you enjoy reading!

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics​  !  

The shadows darkened and the bustle of noise in the Red Keep slowly faded into a faint hum as night enveloped the castle. I had just finished drawing up and helping Aemma into a bath when a maid announced the presence of King Viserys. I hurriedly rose from where I was preparing the Queen’s nightclothes and curtsied. “Your Grace.” Viserys merely waved away my greeting, putting a hand on my shoulder. “At ease, Y/N. We are not in the presence of other courtiers, you need not refer to me by my title.” I smiled fondly at Viserys. “Well, if my king commands it. Are you here to see Aemma? She is in the midst of her nightly soak” Viserys’ brows furrowed, “Of course. How has she been? Are the baths of any help?”

“Aemma says it is effective to a degree, but the moment she steps out of the bath, the aches return.” Viserys hummed in acknowledgement; “Looks like our son is taking quite the toll on my beloved. He must be an active lad.” My smile widened at that: Viserys’ pride in his unborn son was clearly strong. But my smile dropped when I heard Viserys’ next words, “Have you had a chance to run into Daemon by any chance, Y/N?” I chewed hard on my lip at his question, making Viserys raise his eyebrows and laugh at my obvious distaste for his younger brother. “I will take that as a yes. Are the both of you still having trouble getting along?”

“We get along about as well as fire and oil, I’m afraid.” Viserys let out a huge belly laugh at that, “And who is the oil in this situation, you or Daemon?” “Daemon,” I answered without hesitation. “Seven hells, I have no doubt his love for provoking me is fueled by the gods themselves.” Viserys looked amused, “Well, as your king, I am pleased to inform you that I have listened to your petitions and assigned him back to his old post at the City’s Watch. Mayhaps he will cease annoying you with this new responsibility.”

“I thank you for your graciousness, Your Grace,” I curtsied slightly. “Your justice is indeed swift and efficient.” “Well, a king must care for his subjects above all else. And you are like a sister to me.” Viserys patted me on the shoulder, “I must go and check on my beloved now. A King must not keep his Queen waiting after all.” I nodded and turned back to my duties as he ambled away.

The morning sun lazily clambered up the sky, causing the Red Keep to begin to bustle about with noise once more. A servant helped me lace up my new Tyrell green gown, with small gold rocaille prints dotting the bodice and gold roses stitched throughout. Autumn had fallen upon King’s Landing, and the air was beginning to fill with a biting chill, hence my father had ordered the dressmakers to design the dress with fitted long sleeves. I was a little uncomfortable, since I was unused to dresses with fitted sleeves, but it did make it easier for me to tend to Aemma.

I cast a glance at the fireplace. The flames had long died out, but in the midst of the charred black wood, I could see the remnants of parchment. The new dress from Father had not arrived without condition. I had not bothered to read the letter - knowing it would be full of eligible lord names and pleading from my father to just pick one and put him out of his misery - instead chucking it into the fire without a second thought.

“My lady?” Blinking, I looked up at the servant girl. “I am finished with your hair. Are you in need of anything else?” I studied my reflection in the vanity, patting a stray strand of hair down gently. “No, everything is fine. You’ve done a wonderful job. Thank you, Rebecca.” She smiled and curtsied before scurrying off. I put on my favourite pair of gold earrings, checking my reflection one last time before striding out of my chambers.

Aemma was never an early riser, and pregnancy fatigue had only served to prolong her hours spent in bed, hence I always took this opportunity to wander around the Red Keep while undertaking any errands assigned to me at the same time. After making an errand run to the washerwomen to pick up Aemma’s clothes, I bustled over to the Grand Maester’s quarters to request for the Queen’s medicinal teas. I also paid a visit to the seamstress to get a few garments of Aemma’s altered, as she had complained about them being too tight around her bump.

With my list of tasks fulfilled, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Aemma had yet to rise, hence I was wandering aimlessly around the hallways. It was then that I heard a few lads whispering as they passed me. “Did you hear about Prince Daemon’s latest exploits?” “Aye, I heard the smallfolk’s cries all the way from Flea Bottom in my quarters last night. The king has summoned him to the Small Council meeting this morning to demand answers, I’ve heard.” “The prince truly cannot go a day without causing trouble…”

Curiosity piqued, I listened thoughtfully to their conversation until their voices faded away. Daemon? Causing trouble? There was nothing novel of the matter. Yet, the lads had whispered about hearing the cries of the smallfolk. And from what I heard, it did not seem like the cries that Daemon was fond of eliciting.

My nosiness getting the better of me, I turned on my heel, my green skirts swishing behind me. Arriving at the base of the White Knights Tower, I slipped inside a room before anyone could notice and question my presence. The room in question was a secondary armoury, but it was rarely used as the weapons stored here were either blunted after years of use or outright broken. I pushed aside a false pillar made of highly porous stone, revealing a narrow gap which I squeezed through with ease.

Pulling back the pillar to cover the gap once more, my eyes trailed around the expanse of the space as I found myself in a familiar winding hallway. Sunlight poured in through numerous crumbling holes in the ceiling, and the air was filled with a dank smell. Sneezing slightly, I gathered my skirts and quickly made my way through the familiar maze of passageways. I nearly forgot to take a left, almost ending up in the secret halls in the Tower of the Hand, but I retraced my paths and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the Hand’s disdainful voice. Here, the passageways were much more spacious and bright, being situated on the upper floors of Maegor’s Holdfast.

Peeking through one of the spaces in the walls, I caught sight of the Small Council seated around the table. Daemon was sitting near the head of the table still clad in his armour, his face streaked with dirt. Unfortunately, his back was turned to me, so I couldn’t glimpse his expression. However, I noticed most of the lords were looking noticeably on edge, especially the Hand. Otto’s face was even more unpleasant than usual, and that was saying something.

By the Gods, what had Daemon done now?

“You might not know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of the city is seen by the smallfolk as lawless, and terrifying.” Daemon’s smooth voice echoed throughout the room. Otto’s face turned as sour as spoiled milk. I had to restrain a snort, he was not incorrect, the residents of the Red Keep, particularly those of noble blood, were very far removed from the lives of the smallfolk. I had once ridden with Rhaenyra and Alicent to the Dragonpit, passing by the streets of Flea Bottom, and safe to say, I was very glad for my life of luxury in the Red Keep, although I did feel sorry for them.

“...I just hope you don’t have to maim half of my city to achieve this.” “Time will tell,” came Daemon’s response. Even with my view of his facial expressions obstructed, I could nearly picture the smirk on his face, clear as day. I rolled my eyes. It seems that Daemon’s first night returning to his duties as commander of the City Watch had been bloody, to say the least.

“If only the prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does to his work, your Grace.” I snapped to attention once more, eyes keenly observing the proceedings through the space. Gods be good, the Hand cannot give it a rest, can he? I suppose he could not: his distaste for Daemon clouded him from better judgement. But he should know better, I bit my lip to restrain the laugh I know would follow. Daemon always knew how to find someone’s sore spots, and Otto Hightower was as prickly as those strange Dornish desert dwelling plants.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you are in want of a woman to warm your bed,” Otto’s face lost its previous smugness as his eyes grew wide in anger and he stiffened at Daemon’s remarks. “Your own lady wife passed recently-” There was a scraping of a chair on the floor as the Hand towered over the table. I recognised the expression on his face, it was one I had worn many times in my life.

The visceral urge to punch Daemon Targaryen in the face.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to fight the battle to keep my laughter at bay

“Did she not?” I lost the battle as a small wheeze erupted from my covered mouth. My eyes widening, I watched as the men at the Small Council table stiffen, particularly Daemon - his stance suddenly became more pronounced and alert. I know it would be hard to discover me unless the men had knowledge of the secret passages, yet I felt my heart thundering in my chest.

But the gods were good, and the men soon dismissed the sound as Viserys attempted to soothe Otto’s anger. Finally, after Viserys admonished Daemon for his actions- albeit not as fiercely as the Hand would have hoped for, judging by how his sharp glare had not subsided in the least after the king’s judgement - Daemon got up to leave, the doors shutting behind him with a definitive thunk. I dusted off my skirts and readied myself to leave as well. The excitement was over, and I had gotten the information I wanted to know anyway. Walking through the hallways again, I debated on which path I should take to ensure my exit would not be noticed by anyone. The nearest exit I knew was immediately out of the question, and I could not sneak out through the exits in any of the royal apartments, because there was an ever-present risk of being discovered by a nosy servant. Sighing, I continued walking, lost in thought, until a figure pushed me against a wall.

I opened my mouth to scream but a hand that smelt of sweat and something coppery covered my mouth, putting a finger to his lips. My eyes narrowed as he released his hand from my mouth. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” I spouted out angrily as those godsforsaken pair of lilac eyes stared down at me with amusement. “I think I should be asking you that, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“I asked first. How did you even know I was here?” I grumbled, dusting off my dress. The pounding in my chest was so loud I was certain the whole of the Red Keep could hear how much of a terrified wreck I was.

Instead of answering, Daemon reached his hand out to brush at my hair, as I observed him with wary eyes. Then, he flicked my forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” He smirked, “I see you took the armoury entrance, judging from the grime on your face and in your hair.” “And? It was one of the only ways I could get into the passageways without being seen.”

The prince hummed infuriatingly under his breath. “Has anyone ever told you how fond you are of making your life more difficult, byka zaldrīzes?” “Well forgive me, your Grace, but I do not wish to be caught in your apartments trying to sneak into a secret passage. The Red Keep is akin to a vicious beast when it comes to gossip.” The prince let out a triumphant “ha!” as I looked quizzically at him. Had he finally lost his mind?

“Formalities again,” he said, delighted, “I was hoping that yesterday’s episode in the throne room was not the last I would hear of you addressing me formally.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “My question remains unanswered. How did you know I was in here?” The prince snorted. “I think every one of those lickspittles in the small council heard your laugh. I was the only one to recognise it however.”

I huffed. “Well thank the gods it was just you. Had it been the Hand-”

“That cunt is too busy licking my brother’s boots to seek you out, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon teased, beginning to walk away. Rolling my eyes once again, I followed closely after. “I’m surprised you still remember the entrances. I was of the impression you would get lost if you ever came here again..” “From how many times you dragged me through these hallways to go catch a peak of King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon in council sessions, it would take me a century to forget these halls.” I japed, as we rounded a corner that took us straight into an old closet in Daemon’s chambers. As we stumbled out, he settled down on his bed with a sigh of relief, and began to remove his armour. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the window, “There is still a lady here, your Grace.” “I don’t see any ladies, only a nosy bird.” “Hilarious.”

I averted my eyes as Daemon began to remove the gold cloak slung behind his shoulders. “I heard you crippled half the smallfolk.” “An exaggeration,” Daemon waved his hand dismissively. “And if so, they were criminals. Looters. Rapers. Petty thieves.” “And yet, you killed numerous innocents in your path to slaughter those criminals.” I said quietly.

Daemon was silent for a while, and I thought he had left to take a bath. But I was startled yet again when I felt a finger softly tilting my chin upward. Lilac eyes swirling with mild annoyance and mirth met my pensive (Y/E/C) ones. “Spare me the reprimand, Y/N. My brother and Lord Cunttower have already said more than enough.” He handed me a wet cloth, and I sighed before brushing it across his face, getting rid of the grime. Our dynamic has not changed since childhood, I mused internally. I walked away to dump the grime covered cloth in a basket for the servants to collect later.

“Do you not agree with my actions?” He motioned me to sit next to him on his bed. Wordlessly, I sat. Our eyes met, his searching mine for my reaction. “The violence was unwarranted,” I began delicately, watching Daemon’s eyes narrow. “However, I’d like to think the ends justify the means. I share Lord Corlys’ view on this matter.”

Daemon leaned back on his bedpost with a smile. “As I thought, you were more sensible than you looked.” His voice rose in volume as he ran a hand through his white blonde locks in frustration. “Pray tell, I just do not understand why my brother only sees the bad, and not the good. Even a mere lady like you could understand. Has that cunt of a Hand pulled the wool over my brother’s eyes so far that he is blind to the welfare of his city?”

Not receiving a response, he looked over at the Lady Tyrell. She sat there, eyes fixed to the ground, her mouth set in a thin line, her hands clasped in her lap. “Y/N?” “And begging your pardon, what exactly does ‘being a mere lady’ supposed to entail?”

Daemon had a slight hunch he might have made a mistake. “I was not implying anyth-” “Really?” Y/N interrupted sharply. “Or did you just consider my wits inferior to yours simply because I am a woman?”    

She stood abruptly, curtsying as she did. “Forgive me, my prince, I have other matters to attend to. If you have had enough of this mere lady’s presence, I shall be off lest a servant discovers us and sets tongues wagging.” She walked briskly out of the room, before Daemon could even formulate a response. Daemon stared at her retreating figure, and he groaned in frustration as he removed the last of his armour. His words had come out unintentionally, and he had not intended to insult her. Why was she so offended by them?

He huffed as soon as he had the thought. Why was it of any concern? He cared not for what that annoying brat thought of him. Sighing, he got up to ready himself for another visit to Flea’s Bottom. He had not seen Mysaria for a time.

translation: byka zaldrīzes: little dragon 

And that’s chapter 2! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)) Since chapter 2 was a little bit of a filler chap, chapter 3 should hopefully be released in about three days (as soon as I get that presentation that has been the source of my torment over the past few days on Tuesday done lol)  Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 💗

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish​ 

[angelshizuka]

Oooh okay okay, permission to be a little petty? This has been eating me up for a minute! On the topic of the helluva/hazbin redesigns: there are a lot of times in the critical side of this fandom where I’ll see people talking about what they would “fix” about the character designs, and like you said- some of the specifics people think they need to fix just…undermine the point of the character?? (I.e making Stolas big and burly) But it also feels like they’re ignoring that these characters look the way they do because they have to be ANIMATED. There’s been a handful of times I’ve seen people with that “fix it” attitude where they just waaaaay over complicate textures and shapes then say it’s so much better. For example some were saying Blitz’s design was bad because you can’t tell his burn scars were burn scars because the edges were too round. So they completely rendered the scars in their redesign and said they fixed it. I absolutely understand wanting to make detailed artwork. I LOVE detailing the hell out of a character in a drawing!! But to animate?? Especially with helluva where the spindle horse team doesn’t often outsource its animation?? I KNOW it’s silly but sometimes in passing I want to be like- ok. YOU animate your incredibly complicated redesign for a 20 minute animation at 24 frames per second. Then you get to handle the budget you’d need to get it finished and add in lighting/effects/etc. Then you ALSO get to handle the complaints from people who say episodes take too long to come out. Animation is a HUUUGE process! I feel like the work it takes to make it look so good is really taken for granted :,)

(I should be in bed so I hope any of this makes sense lmao I’m so sorry in advance!! Love your account your takes are so well thought out and you’re very funny <3)

Yes, thank you for your excellent point, I totally agree!

I mean, I will always defend CGI animation (I'm a firm believer all animation mediums are beautiful and valid), but I feel like it's spoiled people in how detailed a character's design can be. While part of the charm of 2D animation is how simplified lines can still get so much across.

It's been more than a decade since I studied animation and we only really did puppet animation, but even with that I quickly realized my designs could never be as detailed as when I just made a stand alone drawing (also, rip to my old animations that are lost to time, because my hard drive died a few years back...)

I'd honestly argue that for 2D animation standards the designs are really detailed. Maybe not for every character, but that's part of the beauty of it. Just like how in real life not all people dress all fancy and complicated, some people prefer simpler outfits, and they know how to make that come across in the character designs.

Especially Blitz is a prime example of being tailor made for 2D animation, that's also part of why some of the best facial expressions come from him, they know how to play around with his face shape. Regarding the scars, it's not just a 2D thing, it's the fact that imps scar differently than humans. So, again haters claiming they "fixed it" by completely ignoring lore.

(Aw, thank you! I try my best to put my thoughts into words and it helps make sense of whatever the hell is going on up there. I take a lot of pride in it, because my mother complimenting me on "knowing how to word things" was one of our last conversations before she passed.)