#i was supposed to do homework today but this is more important

[aroace-poly-show]

this may seem irrelevant to most people but it’s weirdly important to me. it bothers me so much because it feels SO out of line with rui’s character and there’s no good reason for him to ever have been doing that??? he’s only ever wanted to put on shows together with people, and he’s been seen as a weirdo for his risky ideas even though he tried his best to always make sure no one would get hurt. but in WHAT WORLD does him waterboarding people align with that??? like ma’am waterboarding is a fucking TORTURE METHOD that can literally kill someone, why the FUCK would a high schooler who just wants to put on shows ever do that???? to anyone?????? it bothers me especially because i feel it feeds into that whole cannibal rui/rui is a psychopath mischaracterization i’ve seen online and at least to me??? it makes no sense for his character. rui’s just a silly high schooler who wants to put on shows and hates vegetables :(

anyway google failed me, it gave me a link to tiktok but that link was a link to rui slander that just mentioned him waterboarding people, so wish me luck guys i’m quite literally looking in pretty much every single older side story/event story/area conversation that features nene to figure out if that mythical dialogue of nene saying rui waterboards people even fucking exists

on my hands and knees asking for wherever nene says rui waterboards people bc i have seen people joke about it everywhere and i’ve seen it on the wiki BUT I WILL NOT BELIEVE IT UNTIL I SEE THE ACTUAL FUCKING AREA CONVERSATION OR WHEREVER IT SUPPOSEDLY IS

[traveler-at-heart]

Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

[yukioos]

TWO OF HEARTS

SUMMARY: ashley graham x reader x leon kennedy // leon and ashley try to gain your love in spain through various acts.

WARNINGS: not proofread, mentions of ashley’s kidnapping (not by reader or leon), jealousy, reader’s really unaware of how they’ve fallen head both like her, ashley and leon don’t really like each other

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry i’ve been so inactive! i’ve been drowning in homework lately, but i had no homework today so i decided to write! i’ll try to be more active in the future, but anyway, here’s my first leon/ashley writing! send asks if you want some more content about either one of them :3 this is 0.6k words, but not really a full on oneshot?? just ideas

when you and leon get sent by the president to rescue his daughter from a village in spain, your friend decides it’s the perfect time to get closer to you. although the mission is supposed to be all serious, considering you’re dealing with the president’s daughter, he can’t help but notice you’re oblivious to his advances and compliments.

unfortunately, as he attempts to get to know you better, you keep the objective in your head: find and save ashley. of course, it’s always good to stay focused on the task, but he wishes you’d have more fun at the time.

another thing that would be a pain in his ass at times was ashley. for some reason, she’s taken a liking to you as well and trails behind you like a lost puppy. she’s always complimenting you, whether it’s about your skills or your outfit, or how you can lift something heavier than two times her weight.

all those words from her make leon’s blood boil. he has a job to do, but she isn’t making it any easier.

however, he can’t blame her for finding herself attracted to you. you’re everything anyone could ever want, the most perfect thing, sculptured by god himself.

leon tries to gain your attention by laying his hand on your waist or hip, occasionally rubbing the space with his thumb. of course, he likes to protect you because it makes him feel masculine, and he can be depended on. sometimes he tells little jokes just to see your eyes squint, especially in a high-stress situation. he places his jacket over your shoulder when he sees a single hair on your arm perk up, or goosebumps form on your arms or legs. he always feels a surge of pride flow through him once he sees his dark brown coat on your body.

ashley, however, isn’t too fond of leon’s actions. she’s thankful he’s taking part in saving her, but prefers to be a few steps behind you instead. she’s always chatting your ear off and smiling at you sweetly, using her manners whenever you do something kind for her (leon tells her that you’re just doing your job, and she always rolls her eyes when he makes that comment). she always blushes and giggles when you gently place a hand on her back, guiding her where she needs to be, like a schoolgirl talking to her crush on the phone. being kidnapped by a cult was traumatizing, but she hated the thought of returning to her father and never seeing you again, supposing you’d be busy on other important missions. maybe she’ll ask her father to invite you over for dinner so she can properly thank you.

the unspoken rivalry between the blondes grows far too strong, one will grin as the other crosses their arms or scoffs when they’re not feeling noticed by you. they’ll both be shoulder-to-shoulder with you, ashley’s head tilting as she looks deep into your eyes, trying to flirt with you. meanwhile, leon will stay silent and tell you what the next task should be, all with a large arm around your waist.

you’ll compliment ashley on her adorable skirt, asking her where she got it, and she’ll respond with a cheery smile on her face. within a second, she’ll send a smirk towards leon, and his expression hardens as he glares at her.

your obliviousness frustrates them both, even telling you they love you or want to be more than friends would only be a compliment towards you! you’d take it as they see you as an important person in their life, or they want to be best friends. the blonde finds humor in the other’s frustrations, feeling closer to you once the other fails to tell you how they’ve fallen head over heels for you.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.3. your last day with quinn

➴ chapter warnings: mention of a restrictive diet, constipation.

➴ word count: 1.7k

💌 from me to you: this was supposed to be a cute, hurt/comfort chapter but. i listened to madison beer while writing this so things took a turn and now it’s just depressing. at least there’s still some hurt/comfort here :,)

౨ৎ

2017, SEPTEMBER.

YOU were having the worst day ever.

It was a Friday, and one of those days where anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. First, you woke up at half-past five with a fever that made your entire body shiver. Your pajama was glued to your body, sticky with sweat. You sat on the bed, immediately regretting it because your head started spinning and suddenly you needed to throw up everything you’d eaten for dinner last night.

You felt like shit even when you managed to shower, sitting on your bathtub and letting the tears fall from your face. You felt so tired. It had already been a very stressful week, with your Mom forcing you to attend castings and auditions, making calls here and there so you could get the jobs she wanted for you, controlling everything you ate and drank.

On top of all of that, Peter and Quinn were leaving for college and you were sure you had never felt so alone before.

Quinn became your favorite person in the entire world when you both met four years ago. He was so important to you, and even though sometimes your heart didn’t understand what exact feelings you had for him, you needed him in your life.

The friendship you’d built over the past four years meant the world to you. How he took care of you, and how he tried to balance his career with still trying to be present in your life. How he would always ask about how you were doing in school, or about your dreams and wants. How he had introduced you to his family and how Jim and Ellen were nice to you, letting you come over to do your homework with Jack or Luke.

How sometimes you’d find Quinn practicing in their homemade ice rink, and you’d watch him for hours, impressed by his moves and skills. How sometimes you’d notice his hair falling out of the helmet, the sweat decorating his face and his blue, greenish eyes that would stare at nothing but the puck.

So when you found out he was leaving for Michigan? It hurt more than anything else, even if you were extremely happy for him.

You got out of the shower, feeling your body hurt everywhere. You were thankful that your classes didn’t start until next week and you didn’t have any auditions today so you could just jump right back in your bed.

Which was exactly what you did, sleeping like the dead after letting your tears fall for a bit more.

You woke up a few hours later, with a soft touch on your arm. Opening your eyes and immediately feeling them getting wet, you saw Quinn standing beside your bed.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he said, smiling. “Maria let me in. You didn’t come say goodbye to me.”

Your sick, tired brain took a little while to process what he was saying. Until you looked at the digital clock that sat on your bedside table, reading 11:34 a.m., Friday, 6 September.

Fuck.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You were still shivering underneath the covers and your throat hurt.

“Maddie?” You could see he had stopped smiling.

You tried to smile, feeling the need to reassure him. “I’m sorry. I forgot to set an alarm,” you lied, trying to get up again and, thankfully, succeeding this time. “I’ll be downstairs in just a minute. Sorry.”

Getting up didn’t exactly mean success, since your legs failed after five steps and now you were on the floor, with your knee hurting like a bitch.

“Maddie, what,” Quinn said, quickly coming to your rescue, like he often did. You had a headache? Quinn had the right medicine for it. You hurt your finger? Quinn wrapped your hand with a bandage. You were hungry? Quinn was already in the kitchen making your meal. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, just— I just woke up.” You didn’t know why you kept lying to him and you felt like shit, but it was his leaving day. The Hughes were moving back to the US, so that Jack and Luke could join the NTDP in Michigan and Quinn could go to UMich. And it couldn’t get worse, not really. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Madison,” he hissed, angrily. You frowned. Quinn had never gotten angry at you, not even when you managed to ruin his hockey uniform with glitter. “You’re sick. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, as he walked you to bed again. “I am fine, Quinn. It’s just constipation or whatever.”

“Stop acting like this is nothing, Madison.”

“Stop calling me that,” you frowned, annoyed for no real reason. You were going to miss them so much.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whispered, feeling your eyes tearing up again, the fever making you shiver.

He stopped scowling for a second, softening his eyes at you. He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh, which you promptly grabbed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just— I hate when you act like what happens to you isn’t important.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling less cold now.

“You’re like my little sister, so watching you sick is just as upsetting as it is with Lukey or Jack,” he chuckled, laughing like he hadn’t just shattered your feelings right there.

You didn’t know exactly what you felt for him, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t that silly admiration you had for him when you were little. You were fifteen now, and just when you were supposed to crush on the boys at your school, you were always comparing them to Quinn instead. And Quinn is always better than them.

Not to mention that he’d been getting cuter. He was losing his teenager features and it didn’t help it with your little infatuation for him.

Hearing him confirming that you were nothing but a family member to him stung. This was definitely the worst day of your life.

“Right,” you whispered, releasing his hand and wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go downstairs and say bye to you all. I’m sorry for that.”

“We’re only leaving at night so don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re feeling better until then.” He replied, getting up.

“Where are you going?” You asked, confusion taking over your face.

“I’m gonna ask Maria to make some soup for you while I go look for some cold medicine,” he put his hands inside his jeans pockets, something he did often, and smiled at you. “Do you think you’ll be fine here for ten minutes?”

You nodded, watching as he poked your cheek before leaving your room.

You laid down for a while, trying to organize your thoughts. You still didn’t understand what the Hughes leaving meant to you, only that you’d miss them like they were your own. Because for a while, that’s what they were.

You must have snoozed again because next thing you know, Quinn was shaking you lightly again. You opened your eyes, staring at him.

“Maria made you chicken noodle soup and I brought you juice and pills,” he pointed at the tray on your desk, smiling.

You got up, sitting up against the headboard, and thanking him as he placed the tray on your lap.

“Mom would probably kill me if she knew I’m eating noodles,” you joked, coughing loudly. Ugh.

“I won’t tell her a thing, promise,” he quickly said, sitting on the chair beside your desk, resting his hands on his knees, as he watched you eat. “Can’t believe we’re actually leaving.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You will come to visit us, right?”

You placed your spoon inside your bowl again, staring at Quinn’s face, trying to memorize all of his features at once. His upper lip, slightly thinner than his bottom one. His wavy, brown hair, messy and untamed, so beautifully shaped. His eyes, darker than Luke and Jack’s, but still bright and vibrant. His nose, big and cute and your favorite feature on his face.

Oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“‘Course I will,” you mumbled, shoving the last spoonful of soup into your mouth. Lying to Quinn always felt wrong. “I’m… I’m gonna miss you,” His eyes softened, and before he could speak, you continued. “You made my life so much easier. You and your family are so important to me so thank you.” You felt your eyes watering, and you looked up. No crying in front of anyone.

“Oh, Maddie,” he got up, removing the tray from your lap and putting it back on your desk, so he could sit beside you. “There’s no need for tears.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and tell him you’re okay but you only managed to let more tears fall from your eyes.

He placed your head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket until it reached your chin, covering you completely. Then, he gently grabbed your hand underneath and held it tightly.

“I’ll be only an one hour flight away, Maddie. Our house is your house too.”

You sniffled, feeling your body starting to hurt again.

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want him to leave, that you needed him in your life and that you loved him. A young, unripe love that made your chest hurt every time you thought about it.

But you knew that you were just being selfish. Ever since you met him, you knew Hockey was his life. It is his favorite thing in the world, and it means a lot to them.

So you would never tell him anything. No. At least one of you deserved to be happy.

“I know,” you mumbled. “Can I take a nap?”

He chuckled beside you. “Yeah, ‘course. Not before you take your medicine though.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the rest of your face under the cover, hearing Quinn’s soft laugh.

Little did you know you’d keep that sound safe and secure in your heart, for the rest of your life.

[chanswhxre]

A Very Good Boy [Kinktober '24]

✩ kinktober masterlist ✩ requests ✩ kofi ✩ ao3

♡ Pairing : han jisung x afab! reader

♡ Genre : smut, edging and denial

♡ Word count : 1.4k words

♡ Warnings : 18+ nsfw, explicit sexual content, a little subby han, piv, oral sex. I will not put any more specific warnings to avoid spoiling the story. Read at your own risk!

❗️ minors, ageless, and blank blogs that will interact with me or my work will be BLOCKED.

"Fuck. Jagi, I need you..please." Jisung sighed as he held on to your waist under your shirt like his life depended on it.

"We can't, babe. Minho and the others are outside, and you have to finish your homework." You whisper in his ear.

You've been like this for the past hour in his room, straddling him on his seat in front of his desk. He was supposed to finish this essay from the online university course he was taking that is due at 11:59 pm today, and you were supposed to read a book while waiting for him to finish and cuddle with you, but things went differently when he begged you to come closer to him and sit on his lap for inspiration.

"Please, I'll be quiet." He pleaded.

"No. You have to work on that essay, Hannie, or else I’m gonna have to go outside so you can focus." You shook your head.

"No! Please stay here." He whined and then continued typing on his computer. You obliged and stayed cuddled up to him, feeling your boyfriend's warmth and also the hard-on straining in his sweatpants. He kept squirming, trying to rub on your core, which got you worked up as well. Still, you had incredible self-restraint, and he needed to finish that essay, but he's being stubborn, and he was making you horny as well, so you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and started grinding on him, which caused him to curse under his breath.

"Fuck. Baby.." he moaned and gripped your hips tightly, helping you grind.

"Sshh..if you want me to stay like this, you have to keep quiet and continue working."

He nodded, but he started to get needy. The two of you hadn't fucked in as long as you could remember because he had been swamped with new album promotions for the past few weeks; hence it was understandable that he craved you; he needed to feel you, to connect with you, both emotionally and sexually but he had to finish his essay first because, as important as this was, he had a deadline.

He takes a whiff of you as if he were going rabid, his hot breath tickling you as he places sloppy kisses all over your neck and his hands roaming around your body and then playing with your clothed nipples while you hold on to his hair and you stare into each other’s eyes.

"Do you want me to suck you?"

"Yes, please!" He excitedly answered,

"You promise that you'll focus on it?"

"Yes! I promise, I just need to feel that pretty mouth, baby."

You could feel your wetness pool in your panties as you went under his desk and pulled his already angry, hard, and leaking cock out. You gave him kitten licks until you started to suck him off. He continued typing as you gave him a blowjob under his desk.

"Jagi...I need you to..please." He tried to say it as quietly as possible, slightly bucking his hips forward when you swallowed his aching cock whole, which made him gasp in pleasure. He covered his mouth to muffle the sounds he was making as you sucked and swirled your tongue around him. He was being such a good boy being all quiet like you said and religiously doing his essay, but not good enough to cum just yet.

"Jagi, it's so good." he moaned. You quickened your pace, and you knew he was almost reaching his climax when you popped his throbbing cock out of your mouth.

"Uh-uh." You tutted, stopping your actions.

"What? Please, just a little more. I'm almost," he whined, trying to convince you to keep going, but you didn't listen. He didn't listen to you in the first place, so why should you?

You climbed back on his lap, his eyes looking at you with desire and excitement, thinking that you didn't let him cum in your mouth because you wanted him to cum inside your warm, sweet, wet pussy. but little did he know that you were just going to cockwarm him until he finishes the essay.

You slowly sank down, taking him in bit by bit; it was so slow that he was having trouble restraining himself from pushing into you. He was horny and frustrated but still held back so he wouldn’t get punished.

"Shit, jagi. You feel so warm." He exhaled when he was fully inside you.

"Now, be a good boy and finish that essay so you can finish inside me, okay?"

“But I can’t. Please, babe, make me cum, and I promise to focus on this, please.” He begged and buried his face on your neck.

“Why should I listen to you? You didn’t listen to me earlier and within the past few days, " you said, reminding him of the numerous times you asked him to finish what he’d been writing since a few days ago so you could spend time together today. But he didn’t listen, so this is what he’s getting right now. He felt defeated and with a raging boner inside you. Still, he'll take what he can get and decided on all his might to focuss on finishing the last bit of the essay while you were cockwarming him, that is, until you started getting very impatient and horny so you started teasing him by clenching on his cock and letting out small moans. He could not endure it further, at which point he began to thrust into you gently and deeply. His breath was shaky, sweat dripping from his forehead, making his hair stick to his face despite the AC on full blast.

“Ji, baby.” You warned with a stern voice.

“Please, babe, I want to cum. I need to cum.” He pleaded as he bit into your shoulder while thrusting into you.

You wanted to give in, but he wouldn’t learn if you let him have his way. You grinded on his cock, rubbing your clit deliciously on his lower abdomen.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He bit on his lip, trying to suppress his moans.

He was thrusting a bit faster, trying to reach his climax but you clenched snd stopped to edge him, then continued to build him up again until his breaths became shallow, a telltale sign that he was close, and then you stopped again, reminding him to finish the goddamn essay. At this point, he was a little angry and frustrated from all the edging and denial that he couldn’t keep quiet; he gripped onto your hips and started to thrust into you, chasing his orgasm, so you squeezed his cheeks together tightly.

“No cumming jagi or else.” You sternly said.

He stopped just when he was about to reach the point of no return and bit his lip; he was already drooling from being so turned on. His eyes were dilated with tears brimming in his eyes, and his dick was twitching inside you from the constant edging and denial, and you knew from his face that he couldn’t possibly write his essay well in his current state. He was out of it.

“B-babe, please. I want it. I know you want it too, please. I’ll be a very good boy after this.” He pleaded, and you sighed.

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely, my baby boy.” You said and kissed him. His cock twitched again; he was so excited that you finally gave in, and the kiss just excited him even more. He thrusted into you with newfound vigor, hard and fast, not caring for the slapping sounds you made but still suppressing your moans. Heavy breaths and small moans and profanities spilled from your mouths as Jisung carried you to his bed and continued fucking you there. It wasn’t long until his thrusts were getting sloppy, and he came almost instantly inside you. Strings of warm cum coated your walls, his dick pulsating as he released inside of you. Finally, the sweet release he was begging for.

When he came down from his high, he started to go down on you before you could say anything. He deliciously licked his cum as it was dripping out of you, then proceeded on lapping and sucking your swollen clit until you felt your cunt tighten, then contract as you experienced the most explosive orgasm you have ever had which made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You lay limp on his bed, breathless, as he grabbed a towel to wipe his mouth and your pussy before he laid beside you. He kissed you on the forehead before flashing you a dumb smile.

“You think they heard outside?” You asked.

“Who cares.” The both of you laughed softly.

“So, you promised, right?” You said, reminding him of his essay.

“I am a good boy, you know. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“A very good boy, indeed.” You smiled.

✩ reblogs, feedback, & comments are highly appreciated. it motivates me, and it is the lifeline of my blog. To everyone who read and interacted with my works, such as comment, and reblog especially with text, thank you so much 정말 감사합니다 ♡

✩ if you want to support my work, buy me a coffee ☕

- love, jan ♡

© 2024 Chanswhxre

[yesimwriting]

there's something about bestfriend!felix who has never had to restrain himself when it comes to feelings, who can't stand letting that much feeling just sit inside of him with nowhere to go.

he learns to hold it all in because feeling that deeply attached to one person isn't something he's used to, so it's a little confusing and hard to label, and maybe he's a little prone to commitment issues. but the main thing that keeps him from saying anything is the importance of the bond the two of you have created.

it's a kind of connection he's never had before, a trust and understanding that he's extremely protective of. so he doesn't say anything.

so he compromises with himself, allowing his affection to bleed into your friendship as much as the confines of a platonic relationship will allow. part of it is to satiate the need to be closer to you, and the rest of it is because he doesn't want anyone to think you're not his.

he's never been one to share, so he makes it as clear as he can that you're off limits.

when the two of you go out, he's even touchier than usual. some of it's the drinking and atmosphere, but most of it is because he can. you're close enough to leave giggly kisses against each other other's cheeks, hands, shoulders, necks. whatever's easiest to reach. he'll pull an arm around you to guide you through a crowded bar because you'll let him without hesitation.

and if felix catton constantly being all over you isn't enough to ward off every guy at oxford, he has nothing against appearing at your side and placing a hand around your waist. it doesn't matter if the guy is in the middle of a sentence or if you're saying something, you'll stop everything to immediately greet felix.

it's a subtle possessiveness that extends beyond just nights out. if you two are studying in the library with a group of friends, you're sitting next to him. if you're out to dinner with a group, he's mentioning inside jokes and topics of conversation that he knows you're interest in to make sure that he's your favorite.

if felix can't be your boyfriend, he's going to be your favorite person. he's not your friend, he's your best friend. a title that he makes sure to emphasize constantly. if you introduce him to someone as your friend, he's quick to teasingly correct you. thought i was your best friend.

he also uses the term to justify any hints of jealousy, and to get his way. if you're spending more time with a different friend (girl, boy, it doesn't matter), he's pouting a little when you finally do see him. if you notice and start expressing concern, he'll admit to it. "surprised you had time to notice anything about me." and when you're, rightfully, confused, he continues, "you're spending all your time with them, and i'm supposed to be your best friend."

sometimes, if its gone on for a significant amount of time, he'll start to think that maybe he's actually mad at you. it isn't fair, but felix can't help it. he'll do anything for you, and you're replacing him with someone that can't care about you the way he does.

but then you'll look at him, all wide eyed and exuding genuine shock at the thought of felix ever not being your best friend. you'll coddle him as much as he'll let you. he'll try to put up a hard exterior, but he's melting and letting it go almost immediately.

----

a short blurb to tide you all over and help me think through a request bc i wanted to finish writing it today but had to do a ton of homework instead <3

almost didn't post this bc the purpose of it was for me to work on characterization in a low stakes way after using up all of my mental but then decided why not!

a fuller, better developed version of this is coming soon 😭

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains

[kryptznnn]

♡/♛- Disrespectful

. ݁₊ �� . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

➸ INTERESTS; - jjk!geto suguru/satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - living within your early twenties, you were working alongside Geto as his protege. As he required extended information on someone who served an important part of his past that he claimed was his enemy, he sends you out to become his personal spy. The only problem was that what the future had in store between you and both men was highly unexpected.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.2.5k uhh flirting, tension between two parties, love triangle ish, slowburn, mentions of sexual behavior, spying, double agent bla bla, romantic mentions

➸a.i; -eek new theme, also i realized i didnt mention at all but the reader (you) have water technique, basically hydrokinesis. this will also be a series!! not sure how long right now but we're working w the potential bare w me twin

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

♡/♛- Disrespectful Masterlist

"Thank you for your assistance today, I'm sure I've gotten the handle of everything now" you stated, swiping the bottom of your skirt before you sat at your desk.

"No problem, thank god I was here with you huh? Would've gotten lost or torn the entire school down, I'm your knight in shining armor beautiful" Gojo teased, you only rolled your eyes in response to his flirting attempt.

It's been like this all week, today was supposed to be your first official week of teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu High School (that had just ended of course), and honestly it was amazing. The students were kind and full of so much potential, your colleagues were respectful and willing to help with anything you needed, most more daring than others. Gojo playing a full-on example of such, but you didn't mind it, you would only laugh it off or brush it off.

You knew better than to give into his snarky comments or flirty compliments, whether by how you were dressed or what you would say to the other staff and students. It wasn't what you were here for regardless of the situation, and it didn't seem sincere.

"He's like that with all the women in and out of here, don't mind him" Ieriri had told you after your second day at work here, you only nodded seeing it was obvious enough. She had also told you to just refer to her as Shoko, which you completely forgot about.

"I'll be taking my leave now, I have plenty of homework to do myself and I'm a damn teacher" you huffed, he only chuckled in response. Yeah, being a teacher was a serious job, but its only your first week here and you've already filed so many papers just to be here, now you had more to attend to personally and academically for your students.

"So early? Didn't you want to stay with me a little longer? You're gonna miss my company." He stated simply, you scoffed in response, smiling at him as you packed your work bag and got out of your seat.

"I'll have all of this work and my bed to keep me busy when I get back home" you joked, smiling to yourself before looking up at Gojo, still leaning by your desk and wall cross armed.

"You should come out with me to eat later on for dinner, my treat" he said, now standing in front of you, his frame blocking you from leaving the room even if you tried. You only looked up at him, looking at his blindfolds, even with them on you could feel his eyes scanning yours, or maybe your face, or your figure.

Whatever it was, you looked away swallowing before declining his invitation. A dinner date was insane, especially at this rate, it was way too early, and you weren't even interested in him. Your mission and reason of being here was more than enough to motivate you into being here.

"You flatter me, but even if you were the last person on earth, I wouldn't be doing anything with you Satoru Gojo." You spoke softly, placing your index finger on his chest to move him slightly aside as you pushed past him walking off.

As you walked off towards the back down the hallway you could feel his eyes on you from behind, taking in each of your steps as the sound of your shoes echoed in the halls. You quickly shut your eyes and shrugged off the feeling, already digging in your pocket for your car keys.

"I'll text you the address if you change your mind!!" He shouted down the hall, you didn't bother responding or even turning around, you just chuckled to yourself and exited the building.

Soon after arriving in your car, you locked your doors and opened your armrest looking for your second phone. As you powered it on and scrolled through your contacts you also started your car, dialing a specific number and placing it on speaker as you drove out of the parking lot into the main road. Of course, as always whenever you call, he answered on the second ring.

"Hello?" you heard the male voice grunt softly; you smiled taking a right turn on the road.

"Hey, I'm stopping by your place, we have some stuff to debrief" you said, looking over at your bag in the passenger side, then back at the road. He only agreed in response and hung up the phone, to which you sighed, and your smile quickly turned into a frown as you continued your drive to your destination.

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

You soon made it and began to walk through the alleyway, knocking on a strange door about four times and whispering something discreet before it opened. Faced with another door in front of you, you dug for a black key in your pocket, unlocking the door and twisting the handle walking inside to place your bag on the counter.

"What have you found out so far?" You heard the same voice from earlier ask from behind you, you didn't even bother responding, huffing in annoyance.

"Hello to you too, and I've only been around for a week there's so little I was able to grasp Suguru" you responded flatly, you could practically feel his eyes roll as he sucked his teeth at you. This was getting tired some honestly, and not going in the way you had wanted.

You only took on this job for him, he told you how important it would be to him and the sake of what we were following all for the ‘greater good’ he repeated over and over. You would constantly feed into the bullshit he had given you over and over, just for the sake of your relationship with him. The last thing he could tolerate was being alone, let alone you leaving him, it would’ve sent him over the bridge, again.

The relationship you two shared was somewhat special some would say. You would communicate from time to time and be intimate, very intimate, but it didn’t change the fact you two were drawn to one another. He had always pushed past the idea of labels or calling you his girlfriend or the ideas on proposing and marriage so eventually it died down to the point where neither one of you could do anything about it.

You too had your own issues, you liked your personal freedom, doing your own things having your own space and growing. Commitment is a huge deal, and it honestly felt like spending the entirety of your life with him in the place he called home was signing yourself off.

You were sure on the difference between temporary and permanent and honestly in the long run, temporary sounded like the best solution every time, thankfully enough for you Suguru was open and understanding enough to not hold it against you, respecting your decisions.

The only thing that would constantly throw you over was his way of hiding things from you, like his relationship with Satoru or his past with everyone there, and what he truly wanted from Sukuna and his fingers, it was killing you.

Working for him should at least give you the opportunity to know something, even a little. Have some sort of knowledge so you weren’t walking into your new spying profession blind, but in all honesty, it didn’t seem like he cared.

It seemed like he cared more about his pursuit, revenge, power, whatever it was more than you. Just that alone was making you give him the cold shoulder, he hadn’t even welcomed you the way he used to when you walked in, who does that?

"Cut it with the attitude, now isn't the time." He said, now standing up and making his way over to you, you pursed your lips together as you watched him, turning around into his kitchen and opening his fridge, grabbing a gallon of juice.

"Aside from all of the work I have to do, Itadori has consumed two of the fingers already. Physically I haven't seen any major changes to his body, or any harm, he seems to be taking it very well as if he was made for it." You said, he only hummed in response as his footsteps came to a halt.

He was now behind you in the kitchen, watching your every move. You opened a cupboard door to get a glass cup, just for him to come up behind you pressing against you and grabbing a cup on the higher shelf before you could and placing it down upon the counter in front of you.

"Yeah? And any tabs or leads on where the others are?" He asked smoothly, placing a hand on your waist and pressing you against the counter, making it physically impossible to turn around or leave. The tension thick as your breath hitched, feeling your stomach tighten the same way it does when you're on amusement park rides.

"No, Gojo- well, Satoru asked me to accompany him tonight, I could lean into it and ask if you'd like.” You responded, keeping your head down, he only hummed in response, soon leaning over and bringing you into a full bear hug. You hesitated for a few seconds before hugging his arms back, smiling softly.

“I missed you this week y’know?” He said softly against your shoulder, you giggled at the feeling of his breath tickling your neck. You nodded your head softly as you let him go and he let go of you too, now standing beside you as you poured the juice into the glass cup and put it away in the fridge. Now picking it off the counter and placing it to your lips looking over at Suguru, who looked at you with a raised brow.

“Not using your powers?” He asked with a tone of surprise, you only shook your head and placed the cup down, pointing over to your bag from across the both of you.

“Code of Conduct within the academic protocol of the school. You aren’t supposed to use them for fun or show and tell, only if asked, necessary, or attacked and in need of self-defense. Plus, it isn’t a huge deal it’s just juice.” You responded, taking the up and downing the rest of juice in it. He smiled at you softly, digging in his pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes and removing one, walking over back to where he was seated and grabbed his lighter off the small table.

You pulled your primary 'work' phone from your pocket as Suguru sat back on his couch, going through his phone making a call, placing his cigarette to his lips as he pocketed the pack. He cupped his hand around his cigarette using the lighter to light it, placing his phone by his ear held by his shoulder and taking a small puff of his cigarette. You went through your messages and clicked on 'Annoying Ass Satoru', smiling at the contact name you created for him.

Definitely giving yourself extra points for creativity. You began typing as you heard Suguru mentioning the information you had just given him, as soon as he realized you were picking up on the call he left the room. You only rolled your eyes out of irritation, quick to text Satoru.

[You: Hey, turns out I might pick up on your offer after all since my night is clear and my workload isn't as bad ☻] you sent, before you could even x out of the page or turn your phone off, he immediately started typing in response.

[Annoying Ass Satoru: *hearted your message* I knew you'd change your mind I'm literally irresistible] you smiled at his response, shaking your head and letting out a heavy breath.

[You: As if, don't get too ahead of yourself, what time is it?] you replied, he immediately started typing again.

[Annoying Ass Satoru: Try to be ready around 7? If you want, I could come get you, just send me your address]

[You: Oh no I'll be driving myself, I don't give my address out to strangers 👎, I'll be ready by then]

[Annoying Ass Satoru: Can't get mad at me for being a gentleman. But here's the address XXXX Main Blvd, XXXX ****]

You only hearted the message, quickly grabbing your belongings and heading out the door, not even bothering to say goodbye to Suguru.

You quickly left and got to your car, driving off back to your apartment to change into a fresh pair of clothes and refresh your makeup. Soon after you drove off to the address that was sent to you, arriving a little earlier than expected just in case.

Before you could place your phone and belongings in your purse you realized you completely forgot to wear lip gloss, lowering your visor and looking into your mirror. You quickly reached into your bag and applied it, hearing a small knocking on your window making you jump.

You quickly turned around to see-

"Satoru, Jesus." You said, placing a hand over your chest and taking a sigh of relief, closing your visor and placing your lip gloss in your purse. Picking up your keys and getting out of the car, to which Satoru held the door open after you.

You only shook your head at him as he chuckled at your startled reaction, closing your car door behind you as you locked it. He soon escorted you inside of the restaurant and spoke to the front desk about a reservation he had made. You took this time to examine him as you stood from behind him, he was well dressed, his hair wasn't held up by his blindfold now, resting against his ears and the back of his neck.

Wearing black suit pants and a navy-blue button up and sunglasses, and dress shoes. Honestly you had mentioned to him how his eyes are always covered and even questioned him about it, to which his response was 'You'd fall in love with me' making you roll your eyes each time he said the same corny line.

You couldn't lie, he was an attractive man. He didn't have a single decent flaw; he drew crowds and lots of attention wherever he went, and he was powerful. If you hadn't known any better, or maybe crossed paths with him for different reasons other than Suguru's plan, you might've actually fell for him and his flirty remarks.

You were too busy to even think about him that way anyways, you had Suguru to keep you company romantically, and sexually. You were satisfied with him and your relationship with one another after knowing each other for so long. Getting closer to Satoru past a worker basis isn't even possible with your guard up this high.

Snapping you out of your thoughts Satoru reached for your arm as a waitress motioned for you to follow her, you quickly followed after, wrapping your arm over Satoru's then whispering in his ear.

"I'm still trying to wrap my whole head around Itadori and his whole 'situation', can we go over it more when we're seated?" You asked him in a whisper, emphasizing the word 'situation'. He only grinned and shook his head, turning it to the side slightly to your ear.

"Tonight is only about the two of us, all of that stuff can come later. As of right now, I wanna get to know you Y/n L/n" he whispered in return, you froze for a bit and sighed, gritting your teeth as you made your way to the table, fixing your dress before sitting down.

Satoru sat from across you, smiling nearly ear to ear, you only placed your elbow on the table and resting your head in your palm.

Alright so change of plans apparently, you'd have to get to know Satoru past a worker basis in order to know everything he does.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn 🌸my main navigation

[narwhalsarefalling]

rey i need ya gen fic bnha recs

congratulations, i have a whole ass collection. but here's some faves. A collection of both oneshot and multichap!

Gauntlet Thrown - pikahlua

Pro hero Katsuki Bakugou has deigned to apply for a teaching position at UA, and the lucky bastard who gets to conduct the job interview is none other than Shouta Aizawa.

Second Chances - amarisllis

Aizawa’s heartbeat is pounding against Katsuki’s ear, so loud and fast that it blocks out everything else. Katsuki’s arms flail, unsure what to do now that he’s being hugged by his teacher who’s never really cracked more than a tiny smile in their presence before. Wha— Oh. Oh, oh shit. Aizawa is crying. “Sensei—” “You were dead.” His voice breaks on the last word. Oh. Shit.

candid - OwlF45

The Commission passes a new requirement for hero licenses: pass a mental simulation. For Izuku, a holder of One For All, this idea ends in catastrophe. A series focused on the simulation, and everything that comes after.

Switchblade - Cacid

"I’m only two minutes late!” Izuku protested. Had he missed the start of an important test? None of the national, standardized tests were supposed to happen this month and even being two minutes late to one of those wouldn’t elicit this sort of reaction. They were discussing their career interest forms today, but that was it. Nothing time-critical was supposed to be happening. “Midoriya, you were reported missing a week ago. No one has seen you for eight days. The police have been combing the city for you.” "I’m sorry. What?” Midoriya Izuku went missing for a week and turned up in a back alleyway with skills he's never even heard of and no memory of how he came by them. He resigns himself to never learning the truth of what happened to him, but he shouldn't waste this chance should he? He could become a hero with reflexes like these. (Russian Translation available)

Razzmatazz - xylophones

Izuku has plans for everything. He plans out what to say to the cashier when ordering coffee, he plans out his homework before even opening his textbook. He has a whole ten-year plan for how he’s going to get into UA’s hero course and get his hero license fully quirkless. He plans for every wild, unlikely scenario he can think of because his anxiety gets so bad if he doesn’t go through every possible outcome, every way his life could landslide into disaster–– but Izuku never planned for this. For once, he doesn’t have a plan and he doesn’t have time to think of one. All he can see is Yagi-san’s lined, kind face looking resigned as he stares down the villain in his shop. Yagi-san, who is the closest thing to a father figure Izuku has ever had. Izuku doesn’t think. He just moves. (Or: Izuku saves the number one hero, gets a hero license way earlier than anyone wanted, realizes that maybe hero society isn’t as great as he thought it was, and everything just kind of falls apart from there.)

third couch is the charm - laurenshappenstobemyhusband

Shouto trained for years to control his ice. Encasing everything in ice whenever he sneezed, got angry or startled, or just whenever he wasn't paying attention always got him into trouble, and he's glad he finally has complete control over his right side. Unfortunately, he can't say the same about his flames. OR: Todoroki sets three couches on fire, which apparently is too many, so now he has to take quirk control classes with Kaminari and they bond over mutual destruction

All's Well - Vexfulfolly

Trigger + Katsuki Bakugou = One hell of a precarious situation OR What it's like to be a walking bomb.

El Manisero - Lila17

"that fic where Sero runs a peanut cartel at UA"

see it all in bloom - aloneintherain

Todoroki said, “It feels like a family reunion.” (Social media fic, counting down the five months to Class 1-A's ten year reunion.)

and i know these don't REALLY count because they're mine, but here's my OWN gen fics that I had a GREAT time writing

And in the forest, I can be free

His prosthetic leg was covered in stickers. Her hands were stained with marker ink in wonderful multicolor. She could color outside the lines. She could color inside the lines. She could color the skin pink or the hair black or whatever color she wished. She could ignore the lines entirely and just draw whatever she wanted. Chiasaki would have never allowed any of this. She doesn’t freeze or feel that horrible feeling in her chest at the thought of him anymore. Instead she only felt... Something else. It was a warmer feeling, one that settled in her gut. It took a few days of this new feeling to be recognized and named- anger. She wasn’t as afraid anymore, that had grown into anger. How could anything in this so-called “sick” place ever be bad? She admires her color-stained hands, the shoes that were allowed to remain dirty, the softness of fresh mud during a rainstorm under her hands. Sand between her fingers, dust wiped away from glass to reveal a view of the forest. Eri doesn’t care if she’s cursed. She doesn’t care if this entire world is covered in little germs that would make her sick. Eri loves it so much. - A look at Eri and her relationship with cleanliness

Within Rime and Reason

1. He reached up to touch the base of his scar. Somehow, without the red hair framing it, it looked almost like a birthmark. Less of a harsh, angry burn scar and more of a memory. He didn’t look like a man with a tragic past, he looked like a boy. If he wasn’t completely blind in that eye, he would almost believe it was one. “You look so manly,” Kirishima breathes. “No,” Todoroki says with a smile. “I look like my mother. I look womanly.” 2. And suddenly so many pieces of the puzzle drop into place. His eye is unseeing. White pupil. Milky iris. With the skin around it poreless and hairless. Easy to cover up with makeup. Oil-less and unmoisturized. Like a scar. Like a burn. “Todoroki,” Mina says softly. The brush she’s holding drops to her lap. “This isn’t a birthmark I’m covering up, is it?” - Todoroki gets a makeover. Emotional conversations happen.

have fun and enjoy!

[stansthemans]

Yall my fem stan brain rot is so bad rn. I just looked at my wips. 78k for fem Stan. 4k for dude Stan. lol oops anyway here’s some more

Sometimes it feels embarrassing to ask, like she really is still a child. But Ford never denies her, even when he’s really busy with some project or studying for some exam. Stan knows how important those things are to him, and even though she thinks he needs to relax about it—he’s miles ahead of everyone else at school, even the teachers—she doesn’t want to drag him away from it unless one of them really needs it.

Today, it’s her.

Nothing has gone right today. She actually tried her own homework, like really tried, not just half assed it or copied Ford’s. Predictably, she beefed it, and her teacher actually took the time to call her out in front of the entire class. She tripped on the way to English class, bruising her knee and sending all her shit flying. She hadn’t been fast enough gathering it all up, and she got a tardy. One of her gloves busted at boxing practice, and she hasn’t yet had the guts to tell Pa because she knows he’s going to blow a gasket at having to buy a new one. Dinner was an icy affair. Shermie had apparently called and he and Pa got into it about something. Then, cleaning up the kitchen, Ma had taken out her frustration on Stan.

Stan is glad it wasn’t Pa. She’s always glad when it isn’t him and not just because hiding the bruises has recently gotten much harder. But it still doesn’t make it nice when Ma locks a sharp, critical gaze onto Stan and picks apart everything that’s wrong with her. Too loud and opinionated. How is she ever supposed to catch a man if she’s got the crazy idea that she’s allowed to think anyone cares to hear what she has to say? Not to mention her waistline. The extra dough in the middle—she had pinched Stan’s side here—that Stan certainly didn’t inherit from her. And still with the boxing? It really was high time to stop that brutish, unladylike nonsense.

As if she doesn’t know exactly why Stan needs to keep it up, needs the easy excuse to hide behind.

As soon as she’s able, Stan retreats to the bathroom. It takes a good couple of minutes for the water to heat up, so while she waits, Stan strips down and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She isn’t vain, she doesn’t think. She doesn’t wear any makeup, doesn’t do much more to her hair than run a brush through the waves to manage any tangles. She doesn’t care about trendy clothes or the latest styles. A pair of jeans or shorts, depending on the season, a simple t-shirt, and some high tops. That suits her fine.

She isn’t stick skinny like her mother or a lot of girls at school. She isn’t fat either, not even really that chubby. She’s just kind of thicker. And she’s got muscles from boxing. Not much by way of hips.

How are these ever supposed to bear a child? Any nice boy at the temple, any potential mother-in-law worth their salt, they’ll be looking for that. Hips like these, bad figure elsewhere too. She doesn’t have the looks enough for any good husband to overlook all the other things wrong with her.

Stan steps under the stream of water, hoping that it’s warm enough to wash her mother’s words off her skin.

It isn’t. It never is.

Ford is deep into whatever assignment when she comes into their room, deep enough that he doesn’t look up and watch from the corner of his eye while she changes into pajamas. He’s been doing that for a really long time, but he’s been a little more obvious about it the past few months, and every time it sends a thrilling jolt down Stan’s spine. But he isn’t looking right now, and that makes her feel even worse, despite the fact that he doesn’t look every time and that he’s clearly fully immersed in his textbook.

Stan folds her arms over her stomach, leaning up against their dresser as she watches him. He isn’t hunched too badly, despite how into his work he is. She’s glad to see that at least. The way his spine will pop when he stretches out sometimes really isn’t right for a sixteen year old boy. He took a shower while she was still cleaning up after dinner, and his hair, much shorter than hers, looks so soft and puffy in its freshly cleaned state. His eyes are sharply focused on the textbook, even as his pen dances over his notebook in his neat, looping writing.

He’s so deep into his work, but Stan’s heart is aching too much to keep standing there or even to go curl up in her bunk alone. She steps over to the bookcase. Over the years it’s changed a lot. More and more space is taken up with Ford’s textbooks and scientific journals and less and less their treasures found while out exploring or their comics. Still, there is a small section of novels. Stan picks up one of the most worn down and shuffles over to the desk.

“Hey, Sixer,” she asks, and Ford hums in acknowledgment. “I know you’re real busy.”

“Yes,” Ford says, but not dismissively. “I’m writing that proposal to send in to the Rutgers field office. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, hugging the book to her chest. “Big deal if they take it, right? Maybe get this dump cleaned up some.”

“That’s the hope,” Ford says. “And it will make an excellent addition to my academic portfolio.”

“Yeah,” Stan says again. “Yeah, it’ll be real good.”

The pen stops moving on the paper, and Stan presses her lips together as Ford looks up. His eyes flash as he takes her in, and he opens his mouth. Stan can’t have him ask her what’s wrong because she just can’t, so quickly she blurts, “I know you’re busy but—“ And she shoves their battered old copy of The Hobbit in his direction.

Ford leans back in his seat, almost jumping a bit. She isn’t standing close enough that the book would have smacked him in the face, but it is a close thing. He blinks at it and then again up at her. Stan thinks she must cut a very pathetic figure, but she also doesn’t care in that moment.

Ford studies her with a furrowed brow for only a brief moment before he stands up. He takes the book with one hand and lightly touches her cheek with the other. “Sure,” he says. “I’m at a decent stopping point for the night.”

He absolutely isn’t. Stan wouldn’t understand anything about his proposal if she picked it up to read it, but she knows that he’s lying and going along with her, and she’s so grateful for that. Ford neatens up his work while Stan arranges the pillows and blankets on her bunk. He crawls in after her, and they find a comfortable way to lie tangled up together. Ford opens the book and begins to read aloud.

They both loved this book so much as kids. It wasn’t on the ocean, but it was fantastical adventures fill with daring fights and golden treasure. It was odd, out of place, little people who were still heroes in a big, big world. Sometimes, Stan would read too, picking a couple of the characters that she wanted to voice, often sillily to make Ford laugh. But usually, it would just be Ford reading, them lying together just like this, his voice low, breath ghosting over the top of her head.

It’s soothing. It is. The knots in Stan’s stomach are beginning to loosen, but she still feels heavy in an unpleasant way. As the party reaches Rivendell, Stan decides that she needs more than this, and she hopes Ford is willing to give it.

“Ford,” she asks, and he stops. Stan knows that he can tell she’s about to say something important. She really doesn’t use his name very often.

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Can you do me a favor,” she asks.

“Of course,” he says. “What do you need?”

Need. Because this isn’t a want. She needs this, or she thinks she might shake apart, and Ford doesn’t have to know any details to know that much.

Stan shifts against him just a bit, changes the way she’s lying against him just slightly. Then she reaches up for his hand that was scratching lightly at her scalp. She brings it down her body, under her shirt, and lies it over her breast. Despite being a bit bigger in her upper body, Stan really doesn’t have large breasts. Ford’s big hand covers it completely, and the feeling starts to unwind some of the tension that his voice couldn’t cut through.

Under her, Stan can feel his breath pick up a bit. They haven’t done this outside of her periods before. For the past several months, that’s been the excuse. Ford touching her like that is just him helping her through the very real discomfort of what that week puts her through. And if—when—they do other things, well, they’re hormonal teenagers. Hormones can be such crazy things, overwhelming sometimes. Overwhelming enough to forget the very important fact that they are siblings. Twins. And then when the cramps and aches are over, they go back to being normal.

This isn’t normal. This is outside of that very specific set of parameters where they have decided it’s ok for them to act in ways that they never should have even considered. But Ford’s hand is on her now, skin to skin, and it’s warm and it’s safe.

After a moment, Ford squeezes at her, something questioning, and Stan, her hand still over his, squeezes back and says lowly, “No. Just this.”

“You just want me to hold it,” Ford asks, his voice just as low.

Stan nods. “I just—it’s comforting,” she says.

In a whisper, against her hair, Ford says, “I can feel your heart beating. More than usual.”

He doesn’t need to touch her to feel that, just like she doesn’t have to touch him. It’s always there, right alongside hers, has been for their entire lives. Two hearts beating side by side.

Ford sets the book down in his lap. He doesn’t take his hand away from her, doesn’t move it at all, but his other reaches for her cheek, turning her gently to face him. And then he does something that they also have not done outside of her periods. He brings his lips to hers. Stan sighs against him, lightly dragging her fingers over all six of his before curling around his wrist.

Ford pulls back just slightly. “Whatever Ma said, she was wrong,” he says, and Stan could cry, but his hand is resting directly over her heart, and it keeps her grounded. He kisses her again, a sweet, gentle thing, and then he picks up the book and resumes their reading. Stan melts into her brother, and his voice and touch drives away everything bad in the world.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: So Tuesday was a mess.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you. Patient, intent, he listens without distraction to every word you say. His attention is almost eerie but only because you’re not used to it. He hangs off of every word.

“I don’t hate Amber,” you frown and hug your legs, only then realising how small you’ve made yourself in the chair, “I love her… I just don’t know if she ever loved me.”

He nods and sits up, dragging his fingers down his chin as he props an elbow on the armrest. He presses his finger against his mouth as he hums thoughtfully. He drops his hand and smiles.

“Are you worried about if she loves you or… are you afraid that you don’t deserve her love? Or anyone’s?” He prompts gently.

You bit down on your tongue. You lower your chin as you think. Your heart plummets deep as your skin tingles hotly.

“Both,” you admit.

“It’s like I said, sweetheart, you have to love yourself first. Then you will see how others can love you,” he drapes one leg over the other, “but we should unpack your relationship with your sister a bit further. We can’t do all that today, but we can start.”

You nod and cup your chin. You make yourself sit up and look at him. You push your feet over the edge and straighten your back.

“Codependency. It’s very toxic. Amber has her flaws, as we all do. What you’ve pointed out about her isn’t out of the question but I don’t know her, I can’t diagnose her. But I can help you draw boundaries and make sense of things,” he explains, “you feel that you were a burden, that you were entirely helpless without her. Did you ever consider she felt the same way? That she attached herself to you because otherwise, she felt useless.”

You look above him and examine the curtain. That’s easier than looking him in the face. You put your hands in your lap and wring them tightly. No, you never thought of it that way because that can’t be true.

“Why… why would she feel like that? I give her nothing. I’m…”

“Now, let’s stop right there,” he raises a thick finger, “what did I say about talking about yourself? Be kind.”

“Yes, Doctor,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, you owe yourself one.”

You bow your head guiltily. The more you talk to him, the more aware you are of all your bad habits. Isn’t this supposed to help you feel better? Not feel worse?

“It’s work, it hurts and then it feels good,” he says, “but the important thing is that you keep going. You keep the progress up, even if some days we don’t take a step forward, he have to keep looking ahead.” He lowers his hand over the end of the armrest, “I think this week you should write about Amber, try to get your thoughts out. Along with your other homework which is…”

You blink at him and give a dumb look. He smiles, “be nice to you. I want you to write down everything you do all week to that end. Baths, moisturising, reading a book, sketching something, anything that makes you happy.”

“Okay,” you grip your knees, slowly trailing your hands up to tug down the pleats of your skirt. You’re not used to it, you almost forgot you were wearing the thing, “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do great,” he encourages, “you already have done so much.”

🕊️

You're exhausted after the session. Almost despondent on the drive to Andy's as everything Steve said swirls in your mind. A thousand thoughts to add to your already overcrowded head. 

"Honey," Andy's voice cuts through your trance, "are you okay?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," you say, stunned to find the car parked in front of his house, his eyes boring into you with concern, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh, you haven't said a word," he slides the keys free of the ignition, "and you weren't responding."

"No, no, it's... I was thinking."

"Ah," he nods, hesitating to get out of the car as he hovers his hand against the door, "about... did Steve say something?"

"Um, just about stuff," you reply evasively, "nothing big."

"Well, you now I'm always here for you, right? That you can talk to me too?"

You nod and fake a smile. He's nice and all but you can't tell him everything. You can't even tell Steve everything you put in your journal. Somethings are meant just for you.

"I know," you murmur, "is it alright if I lay down for a bit. I'm really tired out."

"Sure you can, dove," he reaches over you caress the crease of your skirt, "just for a little. You don't want to waste the day."

"I won't," you promise and pull the handle on your door.

You turn and hide your face from him. He's right but it still irks you. Sometimes he can be so bossy. You've done what he wants. You're doing the therapy, so why can't you have one day to just burrow away.

🕊️

You spend your time alone staring at the ceiling, all tied up with Andy’s suggestion. Don’t sleep the day away. Sigh, now you can’t even close your eyes. You’re too worried about doing just that.

After a few hours, you give up, hoping to find some solace in a cup of tea. You can pop out and assure Andy that you’re awake. Maybe you should work on the painting. He must be getting impatient for that as well.

You pull on a loose wooly cardigan, the one with the patch sewn into it, and hide your clingy t-shirt beneath it.  You come downstairs and pass the archway of the living room. The TV is lit up with the menu but Andy’s nowhere to be found.

You hear him. You go further down and peek into the kitchen. Something tinkles against porcelain as you watch him pour the contents of a bag into a bowl. There are several set out already, on a neat wooden tray with two glass bottles of soda.

“Um…” you step into the doorway. “I… was going to put the kettle on.”

He looks over at you and smiles. It’s only then you notice his clothing. A pair of thin plaid pajamas and a navy blue sweatshirt. He looks cozy. You’re not used to that. He’s all buttoned-up and tidy.

“Oh, sure,” he says, “I can get some tea out… but er,” he sets the bowl with the rest, “you kinda walked in on my surprise.”

“Surprise?” You wonder.

“Yeah, uh, I was thinking we could do a movie night. Your choice,” he presses closed the seal of the M&Ms bag and puts it at the back of the counter. “I got all these snacks and some soda if you like, but if you want tea instead–”

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Oh?” He sounds nervous as he echoes your syllable.

“I… I wasn’t expecting this. I…” you fold your arms over your stomach, “you really… did all this?”

You tiptoe forward and raise your chin to see onto the tray. He grins proudly as you near and see the assortment of snacks; trail mix, chips, gummies, chocolate…

“Pretty simple but I figured maybe it would be fun.”

You suck your lower lip in and look up at him. His eyes are shining, almost hopeful. He did all this for you. He actually wants to spend time with you. He was even excited about it.

“It’s wonderful,” you say, “I hope… I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. Only surprised.”

“Of course, honey,” he slides the tray off the counter, “let me get this.”

He carries the spread across the kitchen and you trail him into the front room. You linger at the threshold as he sets down the snacks on the low coffee table. The room smells of raspberry. You hum at the scent and notice the candle already lit on the table. The lights are dim as the flame lends a flicker to the space.

“Like it?” Andy looks up at your audible sniff. 

“Smells nice,” you assure him.

“Well? You gonna just stand there or find something to watch?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you scurry over as he holds out the remote.

You sit on the couch and he drops down beside you. As you sit forward, he leans back, his arm stretched out behind you carelessly. You flick through the title cards of all the movies, intimidated by the endless selection.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You ask, almost embarrassed to choose one yourself.

“Whatever you like, dove,” he says.

It feels like the back of your shirt is moving, just along the bottom. The sensation is so light and you’re too nervous to look at Andy. You put your elbow on your knee and cup your chin. You guess it doesn’t really matter. You choose a title your recognise, not recalling what the movie is about.

“Don’t forget to dig in,” Andy sits up.

“Er, okay,” you put the remote down and take the bottle of soda. You read the label in the low light. It looks fancy. You try to twist the metal cap off but it threatens to cut into your hand. “Ow.”

“Here,” Andy reaches over, “let me.”

He grips the neck and pops off the metal lid with ease. He hands it back to you and takes his own. You thank him under your breath and hover your mouth over the top. You take a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.

“Mmm,” you hide a cough at the carbonation, “ooh, pretzels.”

You reach for one of the twisted treats. He chuckles as the credits play and he takes a rippled chip. You bite into a pretzel and focus on the screen. He’s sitting so close. You glance over, there’s lots of couch free.

You nibble nervously as the opening scene plays. You focus on the dialogue, not quite picking up on everything. The movie’s much more serious than you expected. You finish a handful of the dry food and wash it down with soda before flopping back.

You squint at the screen and try to untangle the furling plot. It’s kind of boring. You hide a yawn in your cuff and keep your hand to your mouth. The scene shifts and suddenly a bed frame rocks, knocking against the wall as the camera pans down to reveal the two bodies writhing on the mattress.

Oh my! There’s always one of these scenes.

You fight not to close your eyes. You’re mortified as you stare wide-eyed, the room hotly silent except for the activity on screen. You can hear Andy’s breaths and your own. His foot moves as he adjusts his leg and you flinch, almost expecting him to move closer. No, why would he do that?

The scene finally ends. That was torture. Amber always lets you fast forward through those ones. You lean forward to hide your discomfort with another swig of soda. Andy clears his throat but doesn’t comment.

You munch on a mixture of sweet and salty, your stomach squirming. You’re just going to make yourself sick. You recline again, eyes burning and itchy as they threaten to close. No, you don’t want to upset Andy. You can’t fall asleep.

The man and woman argue in the street. You don’t know who would ever do that. Those sorts of conversations are better behind closed doors. You don’t really get relationships; they seem confusing and stressful.

You arch your back, stretching out a kink in your side and a snort from beside you makes you flinch. You don’t look over, not until it comes again. Andy’s shadow sits with its head back, nose to the ceiling as he snores. Oh no, he fell asleep first!

You’re almost happy it’s him. You were so afraid of doing so, fearing at how he might react. You just think it’s funny. This movie really is boring.

You giggle and call his name. He doesn’t react. You call again, “wake up.”

Still nothing. You chew your lip and raise a shaky hand. You touch his arm, poking him with two fingers. You repeat his name. He’s now waking up. You nudge him hard and he slips, first one way then back towards you. Before you can react, he folds over onto your lap.

His weight hits your legs and you squeak. You don’t think as you grab onto his shoulder and try to shake him. He’s so heavy! And big. The difference between you is obvious but even more in that moment. He is immovable, like a boulder crushing you.

“Andy,” you say, “please, wake up.”

He bends his arm and grips your knee, nestling in as he snorts deeper. He must be exhausted. He drove you all the way to therapy and then got all these snacks together for movie night. And now, he can’t even enjoy it. All for you. All his effort spoiled because of you.

You deflate and sink back into the cushions. You kick your legs and try to wiggle free of him. You can’t seem to get out. You surrender and look at the screen. You guess you’ll finish this darn movie.

[mysteryshoptls]

2023-2024 Player Birthday Login Message Lines

These are all the messages that you get from the boys when you log in on the birthday that you set in-game from 18 Mar 2023 to 17 Mar 2024! For those that want to hear them, you can find them in the Archive, under the tab その他　→　監督生バースデー③. (This will not be in your game archives until the birthday you set passes.)

You can find the 2021-2022 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2022-2023 Birthday Login Message Lines here!

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. I have arranged for there to be a birthday party in your honor after classes finish for the day. Be sure to finish all your homework before it begins. Of course, that includes your going over what was taught in class. ...You cannot finish in time? I suppose it cannot be helped. I'll help you with whatever you don't understand. However, just know that my instruction is quite strict.

Ace

Hey, [Yuu], Happy Birthday! Must be nice, being the center of attention today. Wanna trade places with me? I'm kidding, c'mon. Like, yeah, I love it when everyone fawns over me on my own birthday, but I'm not against celebrating others either. Guess I should go all out once in a while. You better be ready for it!

Deuce

Today is your birthday, right? Happy Birthday. Here's a face towel as your present. Hm? ...Oh, you don't need to hesitate or nothing. Isn't it normal to want to celebrate your bud's birthday? And 'sides... it's just between you and me. I'm happy for you to take it!

Cater

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]-chan! It's time for your birthday party, huh. Once we get to the venue, let's snap a pic with everyone! We gotta take tons that looks super lively and worth a memory! Ah, and obvi I gotta get me a pic with the two of us! I def don't wanna miss out on grabbing that selfie with the star of the day ♪

Trey

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. I decided to get you a ball-point pen and a notebook for your birthday. I even looked into a few of the more popular brands, but none of them really called out to me. Sorry it's not anything cool. But I did my best to pick something out for you. I hope you can use it for your studies.

SAVANACLAW

Leona

Yo, [Yuu]. Today's your birthday, right? Good for you. Huh? A present? Yeah, I don't have anything like that for you, why would I? Just be satisfied that I even said anything. I came all this way just to wish you a happy birthday. That should be enough to get your tail wagging, all happy, don'tcha think?

Jack

Oh, I found you. I was looking for you, [Yuu]. Ah, I mean, it's not like it's something super important or anything... But, it's your birthday today, right? Happy Birthday. Here, this is your present, some running shoes. What? You wanna know if that's why I was searching for you? Wh-Why does that matter...? Uh, bye!

Ruggie

[Yuu]-kun, it's your birthday today, right? Shishishi, Happy Birthday! Felicitations and whatnot! You look so much more glam today than you usually do. You've definitely grown. I hardly recognize you～ Amazing! Just the best! Eh? You want more than just words? Well, I can give you a gift, I guess, but... You better give me at least 10 times the amount back～

OCTAVINELLE

Azul

Happy Birthday. Your gift is this board game here. How about a game? If you were to win, I will gift you one more object. Books, clothes, whatever you wish. If you lose... Fufufu, I wonder what I should have you do for me. Think of this thrilling little competition as part of your present as well.

Jade

[Yuu]-san, Happy Birthday. I have prepared a tea press as your present. Do you know how to use it? First, pour boiling water to warm it up, then add the tea leaves and steep. Then pour it from about this high... Perhaps it would be better if I showed it to you. Allow me to prepare you a cup of tea after this.

Floyd

Today's your birthday, right, Koebi-chan? Happy Birthday～ Here ya go, here's your present. What's inside? Well, if I told you, that'd be no fun. 'Sides, you'd be happy with whatever I gave you, right? Lucky you, Koebi-chan. Ahahah!

SCARABIA

Kalim

[Yuu]! Happy Birthday! I'm gonna throw a huge party for you today. I'm getting the venue ready right now, so just wait a bit, okay? But, I guess it'd be kind of boring just waiting around doing nothing. Oh yeah! How about we go for a magic carpet ride? Let's go soaring through the skies together before the party starts!

Jamil

So, today's your birthday. Happy Birthday. Here's a cutlery set as your gift. There's one for cutting meat, fish, and even dessert... There may be many different types, but it might not be bad to learn how to use them all. I'll give you a quick lesson on them later at the party. It'll probably be easier to learn while eating.

POMEFIORE

Vil

[Yuu], Happy Birthday. I've prepared a gift that you could only receive from me. I'll use this carefully selected item and give you a proper lecture on make-up. I wonder just how much of a transformation we'll see. ...Even though this may be your present, I am starting to get excited as well.

Epel

[Yuu]-san, Happy Birthday! I got a super special gift for you. Here ya go, a jacket that's got a rising golden dragon embroidered on it! The inner lining's got a tiger on it! Isn't it cool? U-Uh. Oh, maybe it's not to your liking...? Don't worry about it, I bet it'll totally look rad on you!

Rook

Greetings, Trickster! Happy Birthday! Fufu, as you can see, I was lying in wait for you. I knew that you would be alone at this time, at this very place. How...? Fufu, let's just say it was instinct. Now, please accept my birthday greetings!

IGNIHYDE

Idia

...H-Happy Birthday...　I-I tried to follow in the footsteps of them normies and got you a present IRL... It-It's all the volumes of my number one favorite manga and light novel set. Fuheehee. Spreading the word and bringing in new fans is the best way for those of us in the fandom to thrive! Check it― ......Uh, yeah, if you, uh, get time, please take a look...

Ortho

Based on my data, today's your birthday, right? Happy Birthday, [Yuu]-san! Ah, there's been a change in your vital signs. Your pulse rate and body temperature just increased. Ehe, were you happy that I'm here to celebrate you? It makes me feel so great to see you so happy. Birthday are really nice, aren't they?

DIASOMNIA

Malleus

[Yuu], Happy Birthday. As your gift, I shall play you something on the violin. Which song would you care for? Oh, you would allow me to pick? Hm, which one should it be... If I were to select something that would be adequate for your birthday... I suppose a cheerful song may be in order. It isn't a genre I play often, but I will take this opportunity to give it a try.

Silver

So, today is your Birthday. Of course, I will be attending your birthday party. To make certain I will not fall asleep during the party, I went to sleep early last night. I also took a nap this afternoon, and I've prepared ice to help me stay awake. However, just in case, allow me to say the most important thing up first. [Yuu], Happy Birthday.

Sebek

Hey, human! ...I'm talking to you, [Yuu]! I will give you the honor of my birthday wishes. Your present is a book. Only, I realized that I did not know your favorite genre. So we will go now to select it together. Tell me what kind of books that you ordinarily read.

Lilia

[Yuu], Happy Birthday. We have your party coming up after this, huh. The feast has been well prepared. Of course I didn't hold anything back. I put all of my efforts into making everything. Kufufu, you better be looking forward to it!

OTHERS

Grim

[Yuu]! Happy Birthday! I'll let you have me celebrate it together with you! We gotta chow down on all the tasty stuff! Then we'll sing, and dance, and play games... Nyahahaha! This is gonna be the best day ever! Let's hurry and get to the party venue already!

Crowley

Ta-daaa! What do you suppose this could be? That's correct, it's an exchange coupon for use at the Mystery Shop! You have been a consistent helping hand, so... This is a special gift for you. Happy Birthday. Incidentally, that is only worth 500 madol (5 Thaumarks). It cannot be exchanged for something pricier than that. Please don't hold it against me.

Rollo

Whatever is the matter, [Yuu]-kun? There is a strange glimmer in your eyes... Ah, I see. Today is your birthday. A present? Hmph. I hardly think that it should be something you request of others... But no matter. Indeed, birthdays should be treasured. However, what would be an acceptable gift...? I am afraid I'm rather unaccustomed to this. I would hope I do not disappoint you with a poor gift choice.

Requested by Anonymous.

[wandixx]

You'll never find the aswers ch.4

Words in this part: 5547

Story summary: M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan.

And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down

And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces.

And shards cut them both in the process.

This part summary: M'gann and Danny hold a funeral ceremony

Trigger warnings: Mention of Character Death (should I still put it in chapter tw with... everything this fic is?), (Made up) Funeral Traditions, Referenced Cultural Appropriation (I think? I'm not sure. He means well, he's trying but he just couldn't learn everything)

Please let me know if I forgot to put something here

first chapter, previous chapter

M'gann's hands were trembling. It didn’t make any sense since she was sitting in a relatively warm room and just trying to force herself to do her homework. But her hands were trembling and her head was empty. She pressed her pen to the paper anyway and wrote her human name in the corner to at least have something. It looked wrong. Her handwriting always looked weird when she was holding her pen so hard.

Mountain was unusually quiet. Most of the time it was just her and Conner here, and neither of them were particularly loud, but usually there was something to be heard. Rooms were soundproofed to give people with super hearing some chance to rest and everyone else some privacy, but M’gann almost always left her door at least cracked. It still was too quiet. Like there was nobody there in a fifty mile radius around her. Her ears were ringing just enough to be counted as a sound. 

Artemis said once that when she couldn’t think of a way to start writing an essay, she would try to find a definition of the key word in the topic. It apparently was a good way to get started.

M’gann stared at the printed sentence for what felt like milenia and still didn’t know what she actually read, let alone identified a crucial part of it. Her brain just felt disconnected a bit. Not quite like she stood next to herself but like she leaned back a little.

She sighed and threw her head to stare at the ceiling for a moment as if it held answers to any of her problems. 

Knock… knock, knock, knock-knock-knock!

Danny was at her door, knocking on the frame. At some point or another, way back when she thought she could actually help and save people and be a hero people expected her to be, back then Danny would come around to her room a lot and along the way they created a knocking system. This pattern meant something important. 

She really didn't feel like she had energy for important. 

Knocking repeated. She got up and opened the door fully. Her telepathy felt harder to use lately, as a side effect of overall impairment of psychic powers Martians typically experience at the times of great distress. In her case it depended on a day. Sometimes she could use her powers like nothing happened. Sometimes, like today, even the easiest tasks felt out of reach.

Danny smiled solemnly at her and slowly held out his hand. There were two colorful spheres in it, a bit smaller than a ping pong ball and imperfect in shape as if they were handmade by someone inexperienced. Her fingers brushed on the uneven surface. Breath caught in her throat, her lungs stilled. She recognized the colors, she recognized the texture, she recognized the scent.

Those were mourning orbs. 

“Everything is ready” he announced earnestly, whispering as if it would be an utter sacrilege to speak any louder. She nodded. She looked back at her room, her eyes darting around anxiously. She was supposed to prepare urns. She didn’t even think about touching it.

“It alright, I've got it” Danny placated seeing her fear and shifted his bag to bring her attention to it. He was so gentle that M’gann wanted to cry a bit. What did she do to deserve it?

He held her hand now, soft and tender. There was an unexpected comfort coming from his familiar calluses rubbing against her still bruised skin.

“Are you ready? We can do it another time if your not”

Her vision blurred a bit but she nodded, exiting her room. They began walking, Danny leading the way to the place he found. She couldn’t bring herself to wonder where it was. Contact helped her stay more firmly in her body but her thoughts were still fuzzy around the edges. Their footsteps weren't making any sound. Danny most likely shared his intangibility with her, to make sneaking around easier. She was familiar with the tingling of her skin it caused.

He was careful but sure in his route. His head was slightly tilted, like always when he was continuously using his enhanced hearing. He was probably making sure they won't bump into anyone, even if they could turn invisible the moment someone showed up. If they wanted to disappear at all, in theory nobody should stop them from just coming outside.

She appreciated it. She didn't want to see anyone else right then.

She rarely thought about how harsh lights in the Mountain were and how intense smelt the lemon detergent they used for floors. Silence around them was heavy, overwhelming, loud in a way that didn't make any sense. Main room was staring when they crossed it, despite being empty.

She wasn't sure why she was able to breathe  a little deeper only when they were by the door. Mountain was her home. She liked it. She felt safe there.

She felt like tearing her skin off until they left.

She had to blink a few times when the sun hit her eyes. She didn’t even realize how much darker it was inside. She didn't like the thought that it was her first time outside since she came back from school on Friday. It was late Sunday. Danny stopped and only continued after making sure she was alright. He let go of intangibility, letting their feet break twigs on the ground and brush along the soft grass.

It was warm outside, sun low enough to begin painting the sky in yellows and oranges and pinks while most of it stayed light blue. M’gann breathed in the scent of earth and leaves and overall life outside that felt too strong for how dry the past few days were.

“We're almost there. I hope you'll like it“ Danny said with a reassuring smile when she slowed down to take it all in. They stopped walking for a moment.

M’gann tried to return his smile but it felt wrong. Like she was possessing her own body and had to almost manually pull muscles for every gesture, continuously using wrong controls.

“I'm sure I will,” she said. She realized with a strat that it was the first time she spoke that day. Her voice was scratchy and uncomfortable. Judging by the concerned glance Danny sent her way, he caught it too. She cleared her throat like it could change anything. Her hand was lightly squeezed. They went deeper into the forest surrounding Mount Justice. 

They walked a bit more, slower than before. Despite released intangibility that would indicate they didn't need to sneak around, Danny was careful to not break too many branches and M’gann followed suit. Here silence wasn't suffocating but sacred. Gentle wind was rustling leaves above their heads while a few birds sang. It was late enough both in the day and the year for them to appear after doing whatever they did the whole day outside of mornings and evenings full of music. Before… before the accident, she sometimes woke up early to watch the sunrise and listen to them, before heat became unbearable even for Earth born beings. She too wasn't too keen on the heat of summer.

They stopped in the clearing small enough that most of it was still in the shadows of surrounding trees. Only some rays of golden sunlight made it through the leaves, illuminating a miniature, fragile looking bush in the middle. The earth around it was freshly disturbed. 

“We're here” Danny explained, barely louder than the breeze “You said you wanted something human to it and we usually put flowers so I took liberty and planted it here. Maybe it was too much. If it is, just tell me, I don't think it's settled enough to not survive uprooting. Sam helped me pick it, she mentioned something about flower language. I don't know much about it but I can try expla–”

“It's perfect, thank you” she choked out, not really listening. It truly was.

“Oh, okay. Okay, cool”

Sun was peeking in between leaves, marking their faces with golden flecks. Any other time she would say it looked almost magical. She felt alone all of the sudden. Of course Danny was there, silent and solemn but other than that, outside of this little clearing stopped in time, the whole world could stop existing and she wouldn't realize. She wouldn't care.

Mourning orbs somehow made their way to her hand, accompanied by a traditional necklace to carry one of them. Both of them already had some emotional residue in them, like all handmade things tended to. She liked it. Her heart felt warmer sensing utter devotion that sinked in with the time Danny spent working on them. It was too faint for him to catch, sincere as one could get.

Traditional necklace meant to hide one of them was clinically clean, made by some professional.

Danny put his bag on the ground, and took out a set of two urns. M’gann winced internally. They weren’t made by him, obviously. It wasn’t a problem. Process of creating urns was too complicated for even an untrained Martian to replicate, let alone human who had two weeks to learn. It was a sophisticated art, specifically cultivated by White Martians in their workshops. Urns Danny brought weren’t wrong in any outright visible way. They were clearly made by someone who knew their craft, a bit wider than normal but not enough to be incorrect. Clearly, the big rim was a part of the design for some reason.  If she focused enough, she probably could even guess from which artist family they came. The urns were frankly stunning, painted with rusty reds, some oranges and muted yellows and white, the color of death and danger, bright yellow like Priest’s skin to signify how sacred the item and ceremony in general were, barely there smidge of hopeful light blue and saturated red like royalty’s skin to tell anyone who could see it, how important the person mourned was to the people attending a funeral. They held weird green tinge to them and M’gann carefully didn’t consider what most likely caused it, focusing on the a bit too complicated, ornate shapes and perfectly even surfaces. If she had a chance to get a traditional funeral when the time came for her, she’d like to get urns almost like these.

But they were dead. Carefully kept from being polluted by foreign feelings. M’gann knew it was an industry norm, almost no one wanted stranger’s feelings on their gift for the dead. But it rubbed her the wrong way. She wanted feelings on her gifts, even stranger’s would be better than this unnerving emptiness. She couldn’t stand that something so personal was so dead. It didn’t make sense on a level so fundamental she couldn’t quite express it in words in her own head. Her urns should be ingrained with her tears and if not, with anything else, they should hold someone’s passion for the craft or annoyance at weird request or something, anything really.

Many others shared her opinion on the matter, so often in between getting a finished product from a workshop and the funeral itself, there was a set time when family and others that were supposed to attend the main ceremony would meet to fill urns with their feelings.

But obviously Danny couldn’t know that. So his urns were empty, perverted, wrong like a macabre funhouse mirror. off just enough to make people unsettled while being right enough to immediately recognise yourself in a distorted image.

“Do you want me to leave or do it with you?” he asked, bringing her back from her mussing.

Did she want him to leave? Not really. It felt intimidating for some reason. Overwhelming. Lonely. She didn’t want to be by herself while pouring her heart out to the world. She wasn't supposed to be on her own while doing it.

On the other hand, despite his clear, enormous effort, Danny didn’t know what it was supposed to look like. If anything, this slight mishap with urns proved that there was so much he had yet to learn and she didn’t want his lack of knowledge to profane the ceremony. Especially since he didn’t have any connection, any reason to feel anything towards the woman in whose memory they even did it. 

But he seemed earnest in his respectful silence, ready to give the unknown dead person all of the reverence they deserved. And she didn't want to be alone.

“Stay please“ she breathed out, so softly she wasn't sure he heard her. But he nodded, taking out two other orbs from his hoodie pocket.

“These were the trial runs,” he explained hurriedly “I took them just in case. I didn't plan on using them. And I only have two urns. I’ll get another two later, I promise”

“It's alright. You put a lot of effort into it all. Thank you”

Danny stared at her with a look somewhere between offended and absolutely appalled. 

“You can't halfass preparations for the funeral, it's like, the most basic decency!“

There was some sort of weird longing and jealousy(?) that flared up when she said that, strong enough that her impaired brain picked it up. They should talk about that later. It was potentially something she could do to at least partially repay him for all the effort he was putting in helping her. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad-”

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong. I’m just a bit touchy about this stuff. It’s not even a ghost thing, just a me thing, really. You had no way of knowing, it’s okay”

They’ll definitely have to talk about it later. Not now though. They had other things to get done at the moment.

“Alright. I’m still sorry”

Danny just sighed and went back to searching his bag.

With gritted teeth M’gann changed back to her true form. After so long in Megan’s body it felt wrong, too stretched out and squeezed in all of the uncomfortable places, but she stayed like that. There were no lies to be told at the funeral.

Some part of her wanted to scream and rub the skin off of herself.

“Should I switch to Phantom?” Danny whispered.

“It depends. Which form do you consider the true you?”

Halfa hadn’t said anything, furrowing his brows, analyzing her question from all the angles by the looks of it. After a long moment his face smoothed over again and looked her in the eyes.

“I’m here as your friend not as a hero. Tell me when you’re ready to start”

She nodded and with an unpracticed gesture she put one of the Mourning Orbs in the necklace. She took a few steps to stand at an appropriate distance from the bush. Under normal circumstances, in its place would be preserved brain and ashes of the body, or if it wasn’t possible, something truly personal to the dead person. They had neither. Even little bit of blood that got on her clothes wasn’t available as it disappeared the moment she switched clothes. It still made her sith when she thought about it. Her ectoplasm was useless two, covering M’gann in a way that even Danny couldn’t reverse.

Boy stood on the opposite side with a grim expression on his face, holding his a bit shapeless orb like it was both a lifeline and the most precious thing he ever encountered.

She wasn’t ready. She was terrified. The memory of the dead body in her arms was just at her fingertips and she wasn’t ready to actually remember. Her breath hitched. Danny nodded with an encouraging twitch of emotions.

Let it all out~ he seemed to say. His voice and that of her home sang in unison and she could only do so much against their joined forces.

First tear ran down her cheek, quickly joined by next and next.

She held the body in her hands, staring as the life slowly left it, each desperate thought getting quieter and quieter, more hopeless as M’gann tried her best to put crushed ribs back together based on telepathic touch alone because she didn’t have an x-ray amd the family was getting broken in front of her and she wasn’t sure if the gut wrenching sobs she heard came from her or from the little boy whose smile she saw in his mother’s dying thoughts. She destroyed this little boy and his family and she couldn’t do anything to fix it and  an apology would be pointless but she was going to do it anyway. She was powerful and yet, she couldn’t save life in front of her and it was so unfair that her shortcomings hurt these innocent people.

She would switch their places if she could because they deserved to be happy and together and she could stand that they weren’t because of her and her knees hit the ground much stronger than she would think was possible in relieved memory. There was blood on her hands and she spent countless nights trying to wash it off, even though most of the bleeding was internal. Three was cheerful little boy waiting for his mom and she would never get to him because she was dying on M’gann’s lap and it was her fault and why wouldn’t world punish the responsible and not the bystander and she was choking, her chest tightly squeezed and it didn’t make sense because she didn’t need to breathe as much but earthly air still felt to thin and a woman on her lap drowned in her own blood and how could M’gann let it happen and, and, and…

And now she was using her friend who was already stretched thin and she kept worrying him and others and she was trying to get better and help people like she was supposed to instead of adding to their workload. But she couldn’t force herself to appear alright enough, not in front of Danny, being naturally more intune with emotions, and it was only a matter of time before they left because she was too much to deal with and was too weak and too useless to justify all their effort. She couldn’t get alright but she had to because she was supposed to be better and she trained more to get where she should already be but her mind and body kept slipping, kept betraying her and she was dead, the woman was dead because M’gann didn’t, couldn’t save her and now she was dead, she was dead.

She was dead, she was dead, she was dead…

Only when she couldn’t cry anymore, and when she got too tired to feel, did she open her eyes. With some surprise she realized she actually fell to her knees, back in the form she had that day. She shivered and quickly turned back to her true form. It wasn’t something that was supposed to happen.

Danny solemnly stood where he did before, fiddling with his hands like he did when he was stopping himself from doing something very intently. All of his feelings were kept tightly in his grasp, undetectable without an almost violent pressing. M’gann knew from experience how straining it was and it had to be undeniably harder for someone as unused as him.

She was almost sure he did that to not overwhelm her even more. She probably wouldn’t be able to tell him how thankful she was for that.

Curiously enough, despite how well he hid at the moment, she could sense the tangled mess of feelings he let out just before. She wasn’t in the right headspace to wonder or read what these emotions were but she knew they were strong. Much more intense than she expected of him. After all, he never even met the woman. He knew her only as a victim of M’gann’s shortcomings, taken from the world too soon. He wasn’t obliged to feel anything, to work on the whole memorial and yet he did, with more respect than she saw during some ceremonies she witnessed back home.

“Now we should burn it,” she said, her voice not raising above the quiet rustling of the leaves above their heads. In her White Martian form she could probably brush on them with her head if she stood straighter.

Burning was a complicated part. It had to be done calmly and slowly, with a confident hand so none of the ashes ended up outside of the small urn. Back on Mars, there were Priests and Priestesses, Flame Tamers who trained for ages to get rid of natural fear of fire and control flames before they caught anything they shouldn’t. Anyone inexperienced would taint the ceremony. Obviously they didn’t have anyone experienced anyway and they were both quite susceptible to the heat alone.

Flame Tamers always had a set of heavily ornate tools, that only ever they were allowed to touch. One of them, probably most important, was a stick with a funnel on the one end. It was still really precise to work with, but from what M’gann understood, it significantly facilitated the task. Danny took out a thin metal stick, from his seemingly bottomless bag. It looked like it belonged to chocolate fountain assorted silverware but she couldn't really judge him on that. She wasn't sure if there was punishment great enough for someone who would pervert such a sacred tool and gave it to anyone.

“Sorry, that's the best thing I could find”

No matter how he got everything else, there was no way he could get it too. It would be both too good and too unsettling. She was already uneasy from the horrible contrast between the calm, warm, beautiful day in the forest near the place she wanted to call home and the ceremony  from her cold, unforgiving past, which was always held in the coldest of the caves, ones with the thinnest air. The most inhabitable ones.

“That’s alright”

Danny winced, looking like he wanted to disagree but didn’t say anything. They both stayed quiet for a long moment, on a lonely, quiet clearing.

“How do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I only have a really vague idea how this part looks. Nobody wants to tell me how it looks. What do we do now?”

Of course nobody told him. She was surprised he learned this much anyway. He shouldn’t. How the ceremony goes was supposed to stay secret from anyone and everyone who didn’t attend it. It was too vulnerable an event to share anything outside.

But now Danny needed to know. Someone had to tell him. 

M’gann explained even though her tongue felt too big and too dry in her mouth. 

She wished she could just put information in his brain. She knew far too well how Danny would react to that.

“Oh, alright, alright. Do you want me to do it or…”

“You. I wasn’t trained.”

I still fear fire, she didn’t say.

It will hurt less if it’s you who messes up, she didn’t say.

He heard it anyway and responded with a nod.

He stabbed the mourning orb with a stick (M’gann didn’t wince, M’gann didn’t wince) and fished out a lighter from his hoodie pocket. It was the lighter, night sky blue one, patterned with golden stars. The one he almost never used because it was too precious to him. Gift from someone he couldn’t bring up without tears, let alone mention them by name.

M’gann felt like crying again.

He kneeled, doing his best to stabilize his hand over the urn and let a flame lick an urn until part of it turned warm gray and started crumbling. If Danny used the right materials (and he did, as far as she could tell by texture) it didn’t need to be on fire the whole time. Just this starting nudge.

Smoke smelled like iron on the surface. Just right.

She started whispering prayers around the gulp in her throat, their soft melody rolling easily off her tongue. She should be louder, they were meant to be heard, because how else can gods know to help her traveling to whatever was her place to rest. She should be louder because her song was lost in between chirping birds and quiet wind.

But the prayer was never meant to be sung by one person. There was never supposed to be anything else that could be louder. (She wasn’t sure if she remembered words right).

This woman had her own gods anyway. Martian ones didn’t need to guide her.

She sang a little louder anyway.

She was on a very poetic passage about promise to never forget and always grieve when Danny’s hand trembled. Ash almost got over the rim of the urn, almost got polluted. M’gann flinched and stopped singing.

Up until this point he was doing surprisingly well. Maybe even suspiciously if she didn't know he had no way and no reason to actually train it. But there he was, almost as sure and precise as some Flame Tamers were.

Whoever designed the urns probably suspected that. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they were standard size.

Even from the height of her ‘true’ form she could see tremors running through his body and a way his face was screwed to contain crying. The way he seemed to carefully measure each breath. He caught his wrist with other hand, his grip so strong that his knuckles turned white.

“Sorry about it. Don’t interrupt yourself” he muttered, his voice hoarse from unshed tears.

Some dark part of her mind wanted to listen to him, but the thought lasted no longer than half a second, drowned by guilt. Up until this point M’gann had never really considered how attending a funeral would affect Danny. He just seemed so ready and almost… excited for the lack of a better word. Eager to help like he always did. Never uncomfortable, even a slightest bit, with an idea, other than the first time when she wrote it off as overall stress from consoling her right after the… right after.

But she wasn’t really looking for it either, was she? How many things she missed because of her stupid impaired brain or because she was too self centered on her own pain or because he tucked it fast enough to consider it her mistake. But he was clearly not fine and his orbs were filled to the brim and everything filling them was just tad too personal. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can take a break. Or I can finish on my own.”

It wasn’t really supposed to happen but really, there were so many rules they broke. It wouldn’t change anything if they broke one more. Danny’s wellbeing was more important anyway, plus it’s not even that she needed Martian gods to help the woman. He said himself, it was mostly to help her and she wouldn’t feel any better if her friend worked himself to breakdown.

“I’m fine Meg” he muttered, hiding his tears a bit better “Just… It’s a beautiful prayer. I got moved by it” he explained, not lying but not telling the truth. There was another pang of jealousy that slipped his control. She made sure to remember it. They couldn’t talk about it at the moment, but they had to speak about it later “You can finish, I’m fine”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sing Meg. I want to know how it ends,” he said softly. If his tone was a bit less sincere he would sound demanding. He didn’t. She knew if she really dug her heels in she could stop and Danny wouldn't fault her.

She sang again, this time it didn’t feel like she had to fight wind to be heard. She was singing for the victim and Danny both. Yes, they both had their own gods but Martian ones could lend their hands. Maybe that’s what they both needed to rest.

This time it felt like a soft breeze carried her voice, like chirping birds turned a bit more solemn and they complemented the simple but powerful melody. Words rolled off her tongue with ease. Last bits of her devastation and grief were unsticking from her soul, leaving her body with each line, each sound.

It was cleansing.

She looked up at the sky when she finished, pinks and oranges familiar in a beautiful and terrifying way.

She heard rustling when Danny stood up. She didn’t realize she zoned out long enough for him to finish burning the second orb. It wasn’t important. He smiled at her, small and comforting, craning his neck to look her in the eyes. He rummaged around his bag again and took out intricate containers that usually held the brain and ashes from the rest of the body with some solvent. They too were created by a clear master of the art.

She really needed to ask Danny how he got all of this.

“Where do we…?”

Before he could finish, she gently took both objects out of his hands. It was something she needed to do on her own.

She carefully put them in the same distance from the anemic bush that marked the center of the grave circle. Usually the remains of the dead were placed first thing first during the ceremony, but in cases like this, when there was nothing, the reminder of it was put as almost last. There was no place for lies during the funeral. Even if the lie was just to make it hurt a tiny bit less. 

Then she fixed the placement of the urn, in the circle around the brain. She carefully didn’t think about how it should be half circle, about to be finished when everyone moved on, and not mere two lone urns.

“To finish we need stones that’ll mark the border of the grave,” she explained, looking for anything sufficient. Usually funerals were attended by enough people so there was no problem with making a consistent circle but there were only two of them. Stupid tears filled her eyes. She wished she could do it properly. There was no way they could do all of the steps correctly and she knew from the start. It went better than she could expect.

She still felt an urge to throw a tantrum about everything that was wrong, wrong, WRONG!

Danny fished out two big stones, almost squares, a bit less than foot wide, about four inches tall. She knew that he had enhanced strength but it still looked unnecessarily heavy. Especially when paired with everything else he had to carry.

“Do you try to get a hernia or something? There are other ways to skip training, you know?” she joked, drying her eyes with her wrist.

Danny stayed silent for a moment, as if he was looking for words, with empty eyes and blank face. M’gann didn’t know if it was an angle or new light or something totally else, that made dark bags under his eyes more pronounced. He seemed a bit paler, too.  

“Nah. But you two deserve all the best things I could get for you,” he muttered softly. He raised both stones higher, pointedly closer to her hands. He smiled at her, earnest and solemn.

Was he trying to make her cry again? If he did, he was doing a great job at it.

“Yeah?” she choked out around a sudden gulp in her throat.

“Of course”

They put stones across each other, small, missed twig snapping under the weight. Birds kept singing cheerfully and wind kept blowing as if to spite them, as if to remind them that the world was still moving forward and even things closest to them wouldn’t stop for even a second.

It should be silent. Why wouldn’t it be silent?!

M’gann finally turned back to her green form. Danny quietly opened his arms, a quiet invitation to the hug she could reject if she so wanted. She threw herself into it fast enough to make the boy grunt.

It wasn't an all encompassing type of hug, they were too similar in size for that. But it was warm, soft and unyielding in all the right places. She was safe in it, separated from the outside world in a way no walls could ever manage. Like the most beautiful song, she could hear and feel life in Danny’s body, each deep breath and small twitch of muscles and subconscious moves of his head that made his hair tickle her cheek. She wasn’t exactly tense before but her body uncoiled the longer she was being held. It wasn’t hard to tell that Danny did too. 

Neither of them mentioned hands fisted on the backs of their shirts. Neither of them mentioned how the deep breaths turned just a bit more shallow and hitched. Neither of them mentioned how tender grass cushioned their fall.

M’gann couldn’t tell she felt better, with a tension headache and all of her emotions just too close and raw.

But she felt lighter and that was probably the first step.

******

I love this chapter, it's probably one of my favorites, but god damn was it pain to write. I liked writing it, but I was getting to it like dog to a hedgehog. I just had to be in the right mood to write it, y'know. It's probably kinda why I didn't finish rewriting before I had to start posting and why I run out of backlog hah (and right at the part that I think needs the biggest rewrite and cannot bring myself to it. Though now I have college deadline maybe I'll manage to procrastinate in a productive way)

And I had absolute blast comming up with these traditions, @audhumla-sailor can confirm that

But yeah, I love this chapter, I hope you like it too thanks to or despite a bit more... poetic way of writing

Drink something and check in with yourself if your binge reading

AO3 link

Next part

[hongcherry]

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 1

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [general tw (won't be repeated in the other chapters)] reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, reader is not nice, character outfit descriptors, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying | [chapter tw] “joke” that implies prostitution in a negative way, near car accident (rear end), brief mention of death thru a joke

🍒 WC: 14.8k

🍒 Betas: Huge shout out to my bae, @love-strike, for being with me throughout this whole process, for listening to me whine, for helping me brainstorm majors for OT13, and for being so supportive! tysm 😭 And thank you to @playmetheclassics, @here4kpopfics, @angelwoozi for also beta'ing this series! ty for your time and for your sweet feedback! i really cherish everyone's efforts and brains hehe 🥰💖 i understand this was not an easy task to take on.

🍒 Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!!!!!!! 🎂♥️ I started this fic in September 2022 and contemplated even publishing it multiple times. I think this will be the first fic I've worked on for so long and published. Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so that's exciting! It was supposed to be one long one-shot, but I ended up writing way too much for a one-shot LOL. I'm really proud of myself for powering through and not abandoning it, as I've done in the past. I also wrote this all in past tense and spontaneously decided to change it to present 😪 Anyway, please enjoy the start of this couple's journey 😁

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

When people say good students are those who arrive on time, you find it hard not to scoff. Professors should care more about how hard-working one is rather than if they show up on the dot.

Of course, you do try to make it on time, but can you really leave your house looking less than perfect? Absolutely not. Plus, the first fifteen minutes usually consist of professors getting set up for their classes, so you don’t feel like you are missing anything of importance.

Today is no different.

Ten minutes past the official class time, you stroll inside the room. Students are seated where they normally sit, some are on their phones, and others are trying to finish some last-minute homework assignments. It’s a fairly small class, and being in your senior year means everyone knows each other well. Although, most of the people in your class think ill of you and don’t talk to you.

At first, you thought it was a pity, but in the end, you realized you didn’t want to befriend those who would only talk shit behind your back. This is what you figured they did since they were never discreet when they exchanged whispers with their eyes glued to you. 

Luckily, you have at least one friend in the class. Quality over quantity, right?

“Right on time,” your friend, Dae, says with a sly smile when she spots you.

You chuckle and slide into the seat next to her. “Class started fifteen minutes ago.”

“It did, but you’re right on time for you,” she explains with a knowing grin.

“Guess I need to be more late from now on,” you tease as you take out your iPad.

The device is a holy grail to you. Majoring in fashion design means all your ideas and creations over the past few years are stored there. When you don’t have it, it’s stored in secret in your house. Maybe that’s a little excessive, but losing it would feel like losing a part of yourself. After all, art creations always include a part of the creator. The device almost feels like it’s an extension of yourself—something too personal for others to peek at.

Dae rolls her eyes. “Or you could come on time. That would be different.”

“Why would I? The first fifteen minutes are worthless,” you huff and open your notes.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Dae answers, sliding a piece of paper over. You glance down at it.

Prepare for the annual Senior Fashion Show! Students are to create their own fashion show with a theme of their choice. The show will be toward the end of the semester in the Main Theatre (official times and dates TBD). The project will count for 80% of your grade as this will require you to use all the skills you’ve acquired as a student. When creating your show, be sure to be mindful of the following…

“This was handed out at the beginning of class. Seems like we’re going to have to work with students from outside our department,” Dae comments after she gives you a few minutes to read everything.

So, this is it.

Every senior majoring in fashion design is required to participate. You attended every fashion show hosted during your time as a student here. You were always left in awe, motivated to be a student that would leave behind a name for themselves at the college. You want to inspire the next seniors just as the ones inspired you before.

While this assignment has your body giddy with excitement, there is a part you are dreading.

People skills are not your forte.

Not because you feel awkward talking to new people, but because the conversations always end unpleasantly. Sometimes with back-handed compliments, insults, or them trying to scold you. You hope that won’t be the case while recruiting volunteers.

“So, do we have the class period to start getting things together?” you question once you finish skimming through the instructions again. You’re responsible for a lot more elements than you anticipated. You need lighting, music, a theme, backstage helpers, hair and makeup artists, an advertiser, and most importantly, models. This is when you wish you had a large network. Though, every friend you tried to make didn’t end up lasting. Dae is the only person who has stuck by your side.

“Yup,” she replies. “We’ll be doing mini assignments throughout the semester to help us prepare. I think it’s just a way for Dr. Lim to give us grades so he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“Probably,” you sigh. You are already feeling stressed. Quickly, you scribble down a list of to-do’s in your notes.

“Do you have a theme in mind already?” Dae asks after a moment.

“No, do you?” you wonder.

Dae sits back in her chair, pen resting between her fingers. “I was thinking about something with space? Maybe my main colors will be blue, purple, and black.”

“Oh? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, though? Don’t you want to try something different?”

Although the question is harmless, the tone of your voice must have rubbed Dae the wrong way. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at you again.

“Think of it as branding, okay? Why does it bother you so much?” she wonders with a frown. Realizing your mistake, you inhale slowly.

“It doesn’t. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure your stage will do well,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips.

“No ‘sorry’?” Dae asks despite knowing it isn’t part of your favorite vocabulary.

You narrow your eyes at her. “Nope. Just don’t be so defensive next time.”

“You’re insufferable,” Dae answers. “One day, you will be sorry for your behavior.”

Shrugging, you say, “There’s always a chance, but maybe if the world wasn’t so insecure, saying sorry wouldn’t be so wanted.”

Dae exhales disapprovingly at your thought process, displeased with your reply. “Well, for now, maybe try to be more empathetic?”

“I have bigger things to worry about right now. For instance,” you start, a finger at the top of your to-do list, “I’ve got to find someone who can provide me with music.”

Fuck, it’s too loud in here.

The sounds of different instruments being played at once, all emitting different tunes, have a migraine bubbling in your head.

You make a beeline to the professor who is sitting in the corner. She is an older lady, evident by her wrinkles and gray hair. Yet, her features are soft, and the smile she gives you makes you feel at ease.

“Hello, miss, can I assist you?” she asks when you’re in hearing range.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could help me with an assignment?” you wonder and offer her a kind smile, hoping she won’t shoo you away immediately.

“Ah, it’s alright. They’re just practicing for an upcoming assignment today. What is it you need, dear?”

“Who would you consider your best student? Is there a way you can get me in contact with them?”

The professor’s eyes widen slightly at the question. She didn’t expect that. Nevertheless, her gaze rises to scan the classroom.

“There,” she points as discreetly as she can. You follow her finger, which lands on a blonde-haired guy tuning his guitar. “Lee Jihoon. He’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.”

“This semester?” you ask out of curiosity.

The professor shakes her head. “Ever.”

You can’t stop the small disbelieving huff that escapes you. The best student ever? You aren’t sure how long she’s been teaching, but you doubt out of all her time, he is the best. He looks too young.

“Now, now, don’t judge a book by its cover,” she scolds gently. You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the phrase. You’ve heard it too many times that its meaning lost its effect on you.

“What makes him your best student?” you question, sight going back to the man who is oblivious to your stare. He sits next to another student who also has a guitar. They seem to be friends from the way they are laughing together.

“His work is versatile and very good. I’m positive he will be the perfect person for your project.” The way she speaks about him makes you believe her. There was no waver to her voice, and her eyes hold a fondness in them you know one can’t replicate if not genuine.

“How long until they have their assignment due?” you wonder, realizing you may have to wait until the class ends before you could talk to him.

The professor smiles. “I’ll let them have five more minutes so you can introduce yourself.”

Internally, you sigh in relief. You’re grateful you don’t have to wait.

“Thank you,” you say before strolling to the man.

As you near, his friend glances up. He’s mid-sentence when he spots you, eyes growing slightly at the sight of you. You’re used to getting looks like that. Your fashion is always dressier than the average college student's. People just aren’t used to it.

“Hi,” the brunette friend says. He has prince-like features, and you almost consider asking him to be one of your models. You give him a small grin out of politeness before turning to the whole reason you came over.

“Lee Jihoon?” you ask.

Jihoon’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. “Uh, y-yeah. Do I know you?”

“No. My name’s Yn. I have a project in a class and need someone to provide music for me. You won’t get paid, but any extra experience is always good, right?” you greet, not wanting to dance around the subject. After all, this is only the first of many on your to-do list.

“What major are you in?” he wonders, brows knitted in confusion.

“Fashion design,” you answer.

Jihoon is silent for a moment. “And how did you find me?”

This guy is more difficult than you wished. You just need him to say yes.

“I asked for the best student, and you were recommended. So, what do you say? Will you help me?”

Jihoon gives you a small smile, but something about it rubs you wrong. “Sorry, my plate is a little full right now—”

“Do you need money? I can give you some afterward.”

You try not to sound desperate. Lee Jihoon is not the only music major—this is obvious by the amount of noise you hear in the background.

But you never settle for less than the best.

You have been looking forward to this project since your college tour here. 

“It’s not that,” Jihoon chuckles awkwardly. “I have other assignments I have to practice for, but I’m sure there will be someone else to help you. There’s a lot of talented students her—”

“But they’re not the best,” you interrupt. What else can you offer him that will make him say yes?

“Well, being the best is subjective,” Jihoon counters, voice light so you know he doesn’t mean it rudely.

You open your mouth to bargain with him more, but his friend leans into his ear. The noise from the other instruments behind you makes it hard to hear what they are saying.

Patience is something you rarely have. The longer you stand there waiting, the more annoyed you get.

“Look, you have almost a full semester to get a song done by then. I’m sure you can find some tim—”

“Fine,” Jihoon grumbles as he shoves his friend away. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” you pause. You are fully prepared to go down the mental list of how helping you will help him in return. One that will be complete bullshit, but if it gets him to say yes, then so be it. Luckily, you don’t have to. 

“Great!” you say.

You aren’t going to give him time to back out, so you quickly retrieve a business card you had made from your purse. It’s easier to exchange contact information, and you never know when you may run into someone important. Being in an artistic field means competition. You always need to have an eye out for something, or someone, that will help you get your name out there.

“Here’s my number. Please contact me before the day ends.”

Jihoon takes the card and examines it. “Got it. What kind of music will you need?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” you reply. He nods in response.

“I look forward to hearing your music. I’ll talk to you later then,” you say.

You have half a heart to wish them both luck on their assignment, but part of you is a little petty that Jihoon put you through some trouble. Instead, you give them a wave before turning on your heel.

As you’re leaving, you hear a loud sigh followed by a laugh from behind you. 

“Shut up, Shua,” Jihoon groans before the professor calls everyone’s attention.

Music, check. Now, what’s next?

As you make your way down the hallway, you stumble across Dae. She is surrounded by two other male students, none of whom you know. You don’t plan to greet her since she seems busy, but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile catches her attention.

“Yn!” she calls out cheerfully.

You halt in your tracks, turning to see her smiling at you. She gestures for you to come over, so you do.

“Hey,” you say to her.

“How’s your project going?” she asks.

“I got someone to help me with music,” you reply, then glance behind her to see the two guys staring at you. Dae follows your gaze and makes a small “oh!”

“Is that all? Do you have anyone for advertising or graphics?” Dae wonders, her voice seemingly excited.

“I don’t,” you answer hesitantly. Her eagerness has you worried.

“Perfect!” she exclaims, then turns to the others. “This is Yejun and Jeonghan. They’re both advertising majors. Yejun agreed to help me with my project, but Jeonghan,” she pauses to address the man. He has blonde hair that goes past his eyes. His soft features are handsome and almost angelic. 

“Jeonghan, would you mind helping my friend with hers? She’s super talented.”

Jeonghan glances at you, but before he can say anything, you ask him, “What are your skills? Do you have some work I could see first?”

Jeonghan looks taken aback. “O-oh, I don’t have a portfolio yet, sorry.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” you say before looking at Dae. “Thanks for trying to help me, but I’ll find someone else.”

Dae’s eyes narrow at you. “Come on, Yn. Jeonghan is really good!”

“Didn’t you just meet him?” you question and try to stop the scoff that threatens to escape.

“Well, yes, but Yejun has been my friend for a while, and I’ve seen his work. Yejun and Jeonghan have worked together as well, and their creations are unique!”

You inhale deeply, eyes roaming from your friend to Jeonghan. He offers you a smile.

“What your friend said,” Jeonghan replies with a small chuckle.

“Trust me on this,” Dae says. “Jeonghan won’t disappoint you.”

You don’t feel at ease agreeing to someone blindly. Dae’s definition of “really good” could be different from yours. Although her work is good, you feel your standards are way above hers. You had planned to ask for the best student for each assigned task, so having been offered a random helper with no proof of their credentials is unnerving. 

Granted, you haven’t heard Jihoon’s work, but you were sold on the way the professor spoke about him. Dae, on the other hand, is not a professor and could be biased as Yejun is her friend. Though, you still have a lot more positions to fill, and you need to do so soon.

Sighing, “Fine. You can work with me.”

From the way you word your sentence, it’s almost as if Jeonghan is supposed to jump up and down with glee. He doesn’t.

You grab another business card from your purse and hand it to Jeonghan. He takes it slowly.

“Just so you know, I have the right to replace you with someone else if I see your work isn’t fit,” you warn as Jeonghan slips the card into his pocket.

His eyes lock on yours. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers, not bothered by your comment.

“Oh?” you wonder and quirk an eyebrow up.

“Hm. You also need graphics, right? I have a person for that as well,” Jeonghan says.

“I haven’t seen their work yet—”

“You’re not very trusting, huh?” Jeonghan observes with a laugh. You shift your weight on one hip, not liking the way he is trying to tell you about your personality when he doesn't know you.

“I just know what I want, and I won’t settle,” you answer sharply.

Dae huffs next to you and gives you a gentle shove, indicating you to ease up. That isn’t going to happen.

Jeonghan doesn’t reply and instead takes out his phone. His fingers dance around the screen for a minute before he turns the device for you to see. On the screen is an Instagram account with various posts of different art and graphic pieces. Your eyes drift to the username. by_xuminghao_o. His art is impressive and definitely not an amateur like you half expected.

“So, about not settling,” Jeonghan trails off, a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips.

“I expect you both to contact me before the day ends,” is all you respond with.

Jeonghan pockets his phone and nods. He seems content with your answer even though you don’t confess the art meets your standards.

“All good then?” Dae asks, glancing between you two.

“We’re good,” Jeonghan replies and gives you another smile of his—one you are starting to hate seeing. There is just something about it that seems like he knows more things than you in a cocky, condescending way.

Yejun glances at his watch and then nudges Jeonghan.

“Thanks, ladies, but we have a class to attend. Nice to meet you, Yn,” Yejun says.

You hum in response while turning away from them. Dae says her goodbyes, watching as they leave before putting her focus on you.

“Do you have to be so picky?” she sighs.

“As I said, I know what I want. I’ve waited to do this project for years. It has to be perfect,” you explain and pull out your iPad. You check off music and advertising from your to-do list. Graphics aren’t listed, but you figure it will be a nice addition.

“I understand, but—”

“Just focus on your project, and I’ll focus on mine, okay?” you interrupt. You don’t feel like hearing her lecture you for a second time today.

“Alright,” Dae answers. “I’ll see you around,” she says, walking away before you can say anything else.

With her back turned, you roll your eyes at her attitude. It has your mood lowering, and you conclude you’re done with human interaction for now. You carefully place your iPad back in your bag, then make a beeline to the parking lot, ready to go home to figure out a theme for your show.

Home is somewhere you don’t enjoy being.

It always has this melancholy cloud looming over you. You can never seem to get rid of it completely. Even on the good days, it lingers in the corner of the room, always threatening to float above you. You doubt it will ever dissipate.

Your back is against the headboard of your bed, your iPad resting against your legs that are pulled to your chest. The music playing is too low for your liking, but you know if it’s any louder, your father will scold you for the high volume. Sometimes you will raise it just to get him to talk to you. Though today is not one of those days. You want to be left alone for once, which isn't usually too hard to do unless your sister needs attention. Like now.

“Today is the last day. Pleaseeee, Yn!” your sister whines at the foot of your bed. Her small body is bouncing with desperation and eagerness.

Reluctantly, you flicker your gaze up at her. The slight scowl on your face doesn’t seem to faze her… Probably because she’s seen it so much.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you exasperate, gesturing to your iPad.

Seoah frowns. “When are you not? Come on! It’ll take, like, ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to getting a Fallin’ Flower frap for months! You know it’s a seasonal drink.”

“Didn’t Dad say you couldn’t have any more sweets?” you say and peer down at your iPad again. You’re in the middle of brainstorming themes for your show. There are various words within bubbles, each connected with a line.

“I’ll just get a small,” she explains. When you don’t move, she walks around the bed to stand next to you. Her voice becomes softer, sadder. “You said you would take me. Dad can’t.”

“That was before I got assigned this project. It’s my—”

“Senior project that you’ve been looking forward to since your freshman year, yeah, I got it,” she responds, reciting what you’ve told her before.

You finally look at her once more. “I’ll take you for the next seasonal drinks, okay? They’re probably better anyway.”

“But I really want a Fallin’ Flower,” Seoah pouts.

“Next year,” you offer and return your attention to your homework.

“Yn—”

“Next year,” you repeat firmly without looking up.

Seoah pauses in her begging. You think she’s going to continue, but you hear the soft padding of her feet as she moves.

“Oh, Seoah?” you call out, glancing up.

She pauses by your door and looks up with some hope in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to shut the door all the way.”

“Right,” she mutters slowly, then leaves the room. You wait until you hear the door click close prior to getting back to work.

You sit on your bed the remainder of the day, only getting up to cook dinner for your father and sister. Your eyes feel strained and your body weak, but the sooner you pick a theme, the sooner you can get started. 

It’s days like these when your body is mentally and physically exhausted, that you miss your mom. You try not to think too much about her as it only makes the gloomy cloud above your head darker. 

Is she happier? Surely, she is. She is living her dream as a traveling journalist. Sometimes you will see her adventures if you peep at her social media. It’s self-torture to do so, but curiosity gets the best of you. You hope one day you’ll have the willpower to block all her accounts. 

At this point, you’re having the same conversation you have with yourself once a month. It never ends the way you want.

Inhaling deeply, you finish plating all the food before calling your family for dinner. While your father eats in his office, needing to continue his work, you and your sister eat in silence in the dining room.

Maybe one day things will change, but for now, you’ll have to settle with this.

You are about to knock on the door a second time when no one answers it. You have allotted only an hour for this meeting, so the longer you wait outside, the more you grow impatient. You have set mini-deadlines throughout the semester to ensure you will complete this assignment in a timely manner. You just hope your recruitees aren't going to slow you down.

Suddenly, the door is yanked open. Jeonghan stands on the other side, hair a little damp and a few wet spots on his shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he says hastily. “I thought I could shower quicker.”

“I told you eleven o’clock,” you scold. Jeonghan simply smiles.

“Never hurts to give people some wiggle room. Plus, aren’t you the early one?” Jeonghan leans back to view something. He looks at you after a few seconds. “It’s only three minutes past.”

“Early is on time,” you say as if that is an obvious life choice. Although you’re never really on time for classes, you reason that to be because the first fifteen minutes are a waste of time. This, on the other hand, is not. “Invite me in?”

Jeonghan moves aside and lets you enter. His apartment is tidy for the most part. It seems as if he had started to clean up but gave up toward the end.

“Where’s Minghao?” you wonder when you saw you were the only one here. He’s supposed to be here with Jeonghan, so you can all go over the advertising designs.

“He called and said he hit some traffic. Have a seat anywhere; I’m going to grab my laptop,” he instructs before jogging to another room. Shaking your head in disappointment, you glance around again.

Spotting his couch, you walk over and make yourself comfortable. You take out your iPad and open what you have so far—color ideas, font ideas, and a few mock-up fashion designs. It has been two weeks since you last saw Jeonghan. The majority of your tasks have already been assigned to people, but you still have to find a few more models.

“Alright, so, what’s the theme?” Jeonghan asks when he comes back. He sits down next to you, causing you to bounce slightly from his weight.

You angle your screen, so he can see it easier. “I decided on the four elements—water, ice, air, and earth. The title right now is Pinwheel.”

“This gives us multiple color options,” Jeonghan examines. “Maybe we could have five designs. One for each element and then one with all of them? That would give you a variety of exposure and make the audience feel they’re not looking at the same promo material every time.”

You sit still as you ponder his suggestion. “You don’t think people will get confused seeing different designs?”

“We can make it all tie in some way. You have your own logo, as I saw on your card. We can use that and the same fonts.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “That sounds—”

A knock on the door stops you.

“Ah, that must be Minghao. Do you mind getting that? I’m going to get my notepad, so I can try to sketch some layouts.”

You nod, setting your iPad down next to his laptop, then walking to the entrance.

“You’re late,” you groan while you pull open the door.

“Oh? Am I?” the person says with a little playful smile on his lips.

Although you’ve never met Minghao, you have seen pictures of him on his Instagram. You expected to see a head of blue hair, but you are greeted with black. Instead of a narrow face, his is slightly wider. He wears an oversized white shirt, jeans, and a colorful necklace. He looks like every other college student. Sure, he’s more handsome than the average, but not by much. Behind him are two women and one man.

“Can I help you?” you exhale a disheartened sigh when you conclude it isn’t Minghao. Meaning, he’s even later than you wished for.

The guy chuckles. “I doubt it, but Jeonghan can. Is he here?”

His voice is slightly deep. You may have found him soothing to listen to if it wasn't for his irksome words.

“He’s busy right now. You can come back in an hour, though,” you instruct and start to close the door. You don’t need any distractions.

The man sticks his foot out to stop you, causing you to exhale annoyed when you can’t get rid of him. You open the door slightly again.

“Just tell him I’m here,” he says, his teasing tone not so visible anymore but still light enough to not sound too rude.

“And who are you?” you question apathetically.

“Jesus,” someone hisses behind him before shouting, “Jeonghan, come here!”

Your eyes gaze past the man to see a woman with short-length dark hair. She eyes you haughtily, hand on the man’s forearm as if she were to push him away. Though she never does. She takes in your attire, and you once again get a look of judgment at your choice of dress. Your white dress paired with a same-colored, opened button down and beaded chain around your hips is apparently not her style.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks behind you. Reluctantly, you move aside so he can see. “Oh, Seungcheol! Right. One second. Come on in. I’ll get those papers for you.”

“Actually, do they need to come in? They’re not staying long,” you say quickly before any of them can move.

“Relax, princess, he’s just being friendly. You know, like when someone is kind, thoughtful, and considerate?” the girl questions as if you’re dumb and makes her way inside despite you standing close to the door. It forces you to move over. 

Her friends follow along. Three of them stand in the living room, while the second guy sits at the kitchen bar before pulling out his phone. You watch them with a fire inside your chest. Not only are Jeonghan and Minghao late, you now have to deal with this obstacle.

Just as you’re shutting the door, you see a glimpse of blue down the hall. Finally.

“You’re late,” you repeat, but to the correct person this time.

“I know, I’m sorry! Oh, are they helping too?” Minghao says, pausing at the entry when he sees the group of people inside.

“No. Get in,” you huff and point a finger in the apartment. Minghao enters without a fight.

“Hao!” the second girl exclaims with a smile.

Great. Do they all know each other?

“Hi, Hana,” Minghao greets with a gentle grin.

“What are you doing here?” Hana wonders.

“I’m helping Yn with her project,” he answers and gestures to you while you shut the door.

Hana looks your way, and you can see the distaste in her expression; however, she doesn’t say anything.

Jeonghan walks out of his room with a folder in his hand. “I hope this is what you need,” he tells the first man—Seungcheol, you presume.

Seungcheol smiles and takes it from him. He flips open the folder, doing a quick glance through the papers inside.

“Looks great,” he says. “Thanks for getting these for me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replies.

“Hannie, do you want to come to Shining Diamond with us this weekend?” the first girl asks, tilting her head in a way that appears as if she’s begging for a yes.

“Ah, this weekend?” he hesitates. “I have a test on Monday I was going to study for.”

“A few hours won’t hurt you,” she replies.

“Alright, Hajun, but only for an hour or so,” Jeonghan says with a not-so-stern voice.

“Great! Minghao, do you want to come, too?” Hajun asks.

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else, so sure.”

Hajun grins widely. Her eyes go past Minghao to see you standing in the corner, your arms crossed and eyes staring daggers at everyone.

She doesn’t say anything, but her look tells you you aren’t invited. As if you are silently begging to join. The thought makes you scoff quietly.

“Cool. You all scheduled your weekends,” you start and walk back to the couch. You turn briefly to Seungcheol, who is eyeing you already. “And you got your things. Can we please continue?”

Your gaze shifts to Jeonghan at your question. He offers you an apologetic look before nodding.

“I’ll see you all this weekend. You can text me the time,” he says while walking to the door.

“We can decide that now,” Hana suggests.

“Or over text like Jeonghan said,” you interject. She narrows her eyes at you.

“Be patient. It’ll only take a few minutes,” she replies.

A few minutes, my ass.

“I’d rather you use those minutes to walk out the door.” You give her a faux smile.

“Have some respect,” Hajun scolds.

You laugh though you don’t find any of this humorous. “What a hypocrite. How about you respect people’s times?”

“I did tell Yn I’d help her,” Jeonghan cuts in sheepishly and opens the door to hint at them to leave. “I’ll text you all later, or you guys can come back in a bit.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingers on yours as he walks toward the door. Your eyes catch on his as he makes his way into your line of sight. His stare has an unsettling feeling form in your stomach, and you contemplate asking what his problem is. Before you can, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Thanks again,” he says as he lifts the folder.

“No problem. Talk to you later,” Jeonghan replies.

All his friends have filed out except for the one male who hasn’t said a word. He glances at you. You expect to receive another jab about who knows what. Instead, he gestures at your body.

“Nice chains,” he compliments with a smile.

Your eyes widen slightly as you glance down briefly at your outfit. That was certainly unexpected. “Uh, thanks.”

“Come on, Vernon!” Hana yells from the doorway. Vernon gives you a thumbs up, which is uncanny given the situation, then follows his friends out the door.

Once they leave, you narrow your gaze at Jeonghan and Minghao. They’re quick to apologize again and start asking questions about your project before you can lecture them. Lucky for them, your hour is almost up, so there isn't enough time to do that anyway.

Weeks go by with you working nonstop on your project. Annoyingly, you also realize that the majority of the people you recruited to help all know each other. It usually isn’t something to be irritated by, but each time they run into each other, they usually end up making small talk that you have to break up. They can do that on their time, not yours. Even more frustrating is that this so-called Seungcheol and his groupies know them all as well. Their reactions to seeing you are always the same—ones of displeasure. Though the feeling is mutual.

You learn they are all business majors, except for Vernon. Well, he was a business major, but he plans to switch to something else. You can’t blame him. If all the business majors act revolting, you would leave that department as well.

Seungcheol… He isn’t as bad. 

You have only ever hung out with him by himself for less than five minutes. Those conversations spur when you’re both left alone after one of your “mutual friends,” because none of these people are your actual friends, abandon you both. The conversations are awkward and never hold any weight. He doesn’t throw snide remarks at you, but his presence still makes you uneasy with the possibility. You’re normally the first to leave because of that. Maybe if he didn’t have those obnoxious friends, you could tolerate him more. You can’t help but associate him with them though. You simply want to get away from them, even if that includes him. Not that you are craving his presence anyway. You barely know him and aren’t interested in changing that.

“Those are looking awesome so far!” Dae exclaims when she peers over your shoulder to see your sketches.

You smile at her and set your iPad down on the table. The weather outside is perfect, given the cool breezes in the heat. It eases your mind, and you feel more creative being in a new environment.

“Thanks, how are yours coming along?” you question and wait for her to angle her own iPad to you. On the screen are various designs, each with a hint of purple or blue.

“Those are neat,” you compliment.

“Yeah?” she says and beams at you. “What about this one? I think the shoulder looks a little weird.”

You reach over, using two fingers to zoom in on the screen to examine it.

“Maybe just lower this,” you gesture on the screen, careful as to not move the screen on accident. “You could take this part out too and make it asymmetrical.”

Dae hums, lips pursed in thought. “I’ll try it. I guess I won’t really know until it’s on someone.”

You nod in agreement before focusing on your designs again. After a while, Dae excuses herself from your homework session. She had planned to meet with one of her helpers. You bid her a quick goodbye.

Ten minutes pass when you see someone standing in front of your table, blocking your sunlight. Your eyes rise to see who it is.

“Hi,” Seungcheol greets.

You straighten your posture upon seeing him. He wears a basic navy suit that fits him well. To your surprise, it actually looks decent on him. Your eyes dart around him to see if any of his friends came.

“Just me this time,” he answers the question in your head.

“What is it you need?” you ask blankly.

“Must I need something?” he retorts.

You suppress the eye roll you want to give him. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me about your day.”

“I can if you want,” he responds, then to your utter dread, he sits down across from you. From the position he is sitting at, the breeze is blowing his hair forward and into his face. He raises a hand to push it back, but it’s no use.

“You can spare me. Tell me what you want and go,” you instruct. This is the first time he has approached you—and alone, for that matter. You don’t want to make it a regular thing.

“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles.

“I just don’t like my time being wasted,” you explain.

“So, I’m wasting your time now?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“Should I spell it out for you?” you scoff. It should be obvious that you don’t feel like talking to him.

“You can try, but do you know how to spell it?” he stares at you through the hair on his face. Even though you can’t see him clearly, you can tell he has a challenging gleam in his eyes.

“At this point, I think you just came to bother me,” you sulk.

He smirks at you. “I didn’t, but it is a little fun to see your feathers ruffled.”

“They’re perfectly content being unruffled.”

Seungcheol chuckles at your response. He pushes his hair back, but this time he rests his hand against his head, keeping his hair in place. His elbow is propped on the table while his other arm lays flat on the surface. 

All the times you have seen him, his hair has covered part of his forehead. Now, it’s all exposed, and you feel you can see him. Maybe it’s because he’s donning a suit for once, but he looks almost… handsome like this—dressed formally with a small glint in his eyes and his lips spread in a gentle smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies. “I think you need to have more fun.”

Well, he was handsome until he opened his mouth.

“I don’t need a stranger telling me how to live my life,” you say.

“A stranger? I would think we’re at least acquaintances,” he frowns.

“You only see me because your friends are helping me. Speaking of, is that why you’re here? Does it have anything to do with one of them?”

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, and you can’t stop your eyes from lowering to his mouth.

“Maybe,” he answers slowly. Your eyes snap back to his when he speaks. He gives you a knowing smile that has you shifting in your seat. You had only looked at his lips because he brought attention to them. Nothing more.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you groan, finally unleashing the eye roll you have been trying not to do.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy. The need to be alone becomes stronger with each second.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice returning to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From the way he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they are cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket. You want to ask why he is wearing that, but that will mean you will prolong this conversation. Fortunately for you, he starts to stand up before you succumb to the temptation.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

The second time Seungcheol approaches you by himself is a few days later when he catches you exiting a building he is approaching.

“Don’t tell me someone else lost my card as well,” you say after he calls your name. You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for his response.

“About that,” he starts sheepishly.

You put your weight on one hip and cross your arms, and set your mouth in a straight line. You wait for him to tell you who is the perpetrator.

“I may have left your card in my suit jacket when I washed it.”

Well, that explains why you haven’t received a message from Seokmin yet.

“Seriously, Seungcheol?” you exasperate.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says, lips pouting and eyebrows angled.

Shaking your head, you retrieve another card. You make a mental note to restock later as you are running out.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab it from you, but you quickly pull back.

“Put this in your bag,” you instruct. 

You slowly give him the card and watch as he slings his bag around to his front. He makes a show of unzipping one of the front pockets and sliding it inside.

“Done,” he says, acting like he should be rewarded for doing as he was told.

“Good. Is that all?” you wonder. You’ve just finished your last class of the day, and all you want to do is climb into bed.

“Yes.”

Seeing no need to continue the conversation, you start walking in the direction of the parking lot.

“Great. Bye, Seungcheol,” you say over your shoulder.

“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, walking briskly to be by your side. “We’re going in the same direction.”

You peer up at him momentarily. “That doesn’t mean we have to walk together.”

“You said before we’re strangers. This would help us not be that anymore,” he shrugs casually.

“I never said I wanted that,” you reply flatly.

“It might benefit us since we’ll have to see each other a lot.”

“Is that so?” you sigh sadly.

Seungcheol smiles at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You did ask my friends to help you.”

“Well, if I knew you were a package deal, I wouldn’t have.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad.”

Sighing, you slow your steps to look at him better. He stops next to you, awaiting your response. His gaze is hopeful, but you’re not sure why.

“I’ll agree if you leave me alone,” you finally say.

Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown. “I’ll get you to admit it one day.”

He starts to walk again before you can reply. Now is your chance to let him get a few feet from you. You have the opportunity to finally end this conversation you’ve been dreading. Though, for some strange reason, your feet quickly move on their own accord.

Seungcheol’s steps are small, and you catch up with him easily. Neither of you says a word, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

Instead of parting ways once you reach the parking lot, he follows you to your car. Something about it being dangerous for you to walk to it alone, even though it’s light out.

“Yn?” he says to catch your attention when you open your door. You turn and give a small “hm?” in response.

“My friends and I plan to go to this poetry lounge in two weeks. Would you want to come?” he asks. You aren’t sure why he appears to be anxious.

The shock you feel must be evident on your face because Seungcheol’s apprehensive expression relaxes into a gentle smile.

“Business friends or our ‘mutual ones’?” The idea doesn't sound so bad if you are hanging out with the people who are helping you. Although you have your issues with them, they aren’t that bad to be around if you’re being honest.

“Business.”

That’s not what you want to hear.

“Do your friends know you’re asking me this?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, but I don’t need their permission. What do you say?”

You can’t recall being invited to a night out with someone other than Dae. If you were to go out without Dae, it would be with your family or for a class assignment. To be invited to a place by Seungcheol, out of all people, catches you off guard.

Despite having an opportunity for a different change of pace, you answer, “No.”

“No?” he asks, perplexed.

“Your friends don’t like me, Seungcheol,” you explain matter-of-factly through a sigh, leaning against your open door.

“They just like to tease you. I’ll talk to them before,” he explains. 

Tease is a funny way to describe it, you think.

“I don’t need you fighting my battles,” you answer, referring to the latter part of his reply.

“Still. I want you to enjoy yourself. You’ve probably been glued to that project of yours. Step away for a bit,” he reasons.

He isn’t wrong. Your focus has solely been on the project. Of course, you have other classes, but you aren’t putting as much effort into them as you are this one.

“I’ll pick you up and pay for any expenses,” he offers. The more he talks, the more taken aback you are. You figured he’d drop the offer once you rejected him. From every interaction you’ve had with these “friends,” it never ends well. You doubt this will be any different. Regardless, something in you feels a little… honored he is so adamant about getting you to come.

Thus, hesitantly, “Fine.”

Seungcheol’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay. I can give you my number, so you can text me your address.”

He starts to pull out his phone, but you stop him.

“No need,” you say. At Seungcheol’s confused expression, you continued with a faint smile, “You have my card.”

His mouth opens briefly in realization before the corners are pulled up.

“One step ahead, I see,” he teases, pulling it out to inspect it as if confirming your number is there. You suppose he may think you’re lying to get out of going.

“I’ll text you then,” he concludes and places the card back.

“Alright,” you say, shifting your weight. You aren’t sure if he wants to say anything else. Why are you giving him the time to? You have already given him enough of it.

Sensing your readiness to leave, he waves as he slowly takes steps backward. “Drive safely, Yn.”

“You too, Seungcheol.”

You climb into your car’s seat, turn on the engine, and watch as he makes his way through the maze of cars until he is out of sight.

That Friday comes sooner than you would’ve liked.

Throughout the times you had met with your “friends,” you had bumped into Seungcheol one-third of the time. Sometimes, you were left alone with him again. Each interaction you had with him became easier the more you talked to him. 

Dare you to admit; his presence wasn’t actually teeth-gritting anymore? At least when he was alone, you didn’t have to deal with his business friends. Despite him not usually laughing at their jokes, he never really stepped in to stop them teasing you at first. Maybe only a few times when he felt things got too heated. He wasn’t your best friend, but part of you did hope he would’ve said something. 

Each time he didn’t, you felt your disappointment rise. He apologized on their behalf constantly, but his apology meant nothing when they kept insulting you. However, lately, he has been stepping in sooner. Although you didn’t want him fighting your battles initially, some things you couldn’t do alone. One thing you and his business friends had in common was that no one really knew where the sudden change of attitude came from. For once, you didn’t complain, though.

You’re tempted to cancel this outing, but talking to Seungcheol a few days ago made you realize he was a little more excited than he was letting on. The reason is unknown to you—maybe he really likes poetry lounges—but you’d feel slightly guilty if you ditch last minute.

It’s not like you haven’t been out on a Friday night with people, yet your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You have changed about six times, exchanging your accessories with each outfit. Normally, you would dress up more, but these aren’t your friends you’re about to hang out with. They are Seungcheol’s—business majors who think skirts more than two inches above the knees mean you’re a slut. Though, you can’t figure out why that matters. You never dress with the thoughts of others. If you want to wear something that day, even if it’s “over-the-top” for some, you wear it. So, why are you in such a fashion dilemma now?

In the end, you settle for a simple, spaghetti-strapped red dress that is slightly bunched on the sides with strings that are tied in bows. You pair it with a small, heart-shaped purse and white heels. There isn’t any bling in your outfit, which is unusual for you. The accessories you wear are minimal and small. They are a matching cherry set you were gifted by your mother on your 12th birthday. Although it’s been years since you received them, they’re still wearable and delicate enough not to call much attention—unlike some of your other accessories. 

You reach for a white fur jacket only to stop when your fingers graze it. Your eyes travel to yourself in the mirror as you debate on wearing it. The jacket will be too much, you conclude.

The buzzing of your phone catches your attention. It’s Seungcheol telling you he’s five minutes away. After stuffing your phone in your purse, you quickly apply red lipstick and toss it in your purse for later touch-ups.

When your phone buzzes again, you hurry to your front door. Your family is home, and you don’t want Seungcheol to meet them. Life at home isn’t ideal, and the only person who has a hint of what is going on is Dae. You doubt Seungcheol will find that out from one quick meeting, but you don’t want to risk it.

You throw your door open, ready to meet him at his car. Instead, he stands in front of you with a hand raised. He takes a step back in surprise. His eyes glide down your body quickly, but you’re too concerned about your family coming to notice.

“Oh, hey,” he greets. “I was just about to knock.”

Before any of your family can intervene, you close the door and start your way down the porch steps. Seungcheol follows you.

“You didn’t have to. I can make my way to your car by myself,” you answer. Although you’ve never been in his car before, you’ve seen it around. Plus, it’s the only unknown vehicle near your home.

You stand next to the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it, arms wrapped around your body when the chilly weather hits you.

“You sure you don’t want a jacket?” he asks when he notices you didn’t bring one.

“It didn’t go with my outfit,” you explain. It’s a lie. The coat did go with your fit, but you didn’t feel like disclosing the fashion crisis you had gone through.

Seungcheol chuckles. “So, you’re going to freeze instead?”

“It’s not that cold,” you lie again.

“It’ll get colder later, though,” he explains and comes closer to you. You step aside when he is a few inches from you. You press your arms tighter around you, eyes averting from his because of his close proximity. The small distance has you wanting to squirm away, but your feet can’t move. He peers at you with a small smile while he reaches behind you.

“My lady,” he murmurs when he pulls the door open and gestures for you to get inside.

“How chivalrous,” you reply after you force your nervousness away. You carefully slide inside his car, situating yourself comfortably in the seat.

Seungcheol waits to ensure you have all your limbs inside before shutting the door. As he walks around to the other side, your eyes scan his car. The seats are leather, and the interior has higher tech than you thought it would. It is a nice car—not overly luxurious, but enough to show it isn’t cheap. It makes you wonder how much it costs.

“You warm enough?” Seungcheol questions after he gets in and buckles.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, hands resting awkwardly in your lap. The heat from the vents aids in your goosebumps disappearing.

Your mind is already wondering what to expect tonight. You know his friends aren’t fond of you. At least most of them. That guy, Vernon, seems nice enough. He is the quiet one in the group; however, you did notice he has his own quirks that make him unique. You foresee yourself hanging out with him most tonight. But even then, you don’t feel too great about going.

The longer you sit in Seungcheol’s car, the more you regret agreeing to this.

He stares at you for a moment; brows knitted together slightly. You feel uncanny acting so meek, and Seungcheol can't help but notice.

Silence consumes the small area for a few seconds until Seungcheol says, “Seatbelt.”

You look at him confused, then realize he is talking to you. Of course he is, who else?

“Right,” you mumble, quickly pulling the belt over your body.

“You don’t have to come, you know?” he says with one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick.

You sigh and gesture to the road ahead. “Let’s just get going. I’ve got stuff to do after.”

It isn’t completely a lie. You still have to work on bringing your designs to life for the show, but it isn’t like you are behind schedule that you need to do that tonight. You just know you might actually back out if you ponder on leaving more.

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, averting his focus to the road. He doesn’t reply and obliges to your request by shifting the car into drive.

During the ride, your gaze drifts to Seungcheol. He is relaxed in his seat. One arm stretches to hold the wheel while his other rests on his thigh. One which is clad in a pair of light-washed jeans with a black belt between the jean loops. He wears a white shirt tucked in and a black jacket.

You peer forward slightly to read what his shirt says. Propriety of Balenciaga? The Balenciaga? You don’t think he’s wealthy enough to afford one of those shirts. Perhaps it was a gift or a knock-off brand? Maybe he thrifted it… Though, Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the thrifting type.

“Do you need this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s holding his jacket open to show you what he means. You must’ve been staring too much.

“No, I’m okay,” you say and turn your attention away quickly. “I just didn’t realize you wore glasses.”

Although the comment is true, you need something to say before he questions why you truly are staring at him. You had noticed the spectacles earlier but didn’t feel like mentioning them.

Seungcheol laughs lightly, “Actually, I don’t. I just thought I’d try to improve my fashion. What do you say, did it work?”

He glances at you after stopping at a traffic light; his mouth quirks up in a teasing smile. You turn toward him and scan his face quickly. They do look good on him, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

“They certainly did something, but whether that effect is good or bad is a secret,” you reply, looking away again.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting to admit they look nice on me,” Seungcheol says and continues driving at the green light.

“I think they’d look better on someone else,” you answer. Though, you don’t believe what you said. Something about the glasses on him has you wanting to stare at him more. They fit his face well and make him appear more attractive. You don’t want to sit on that thought for much longer.

“Is that so? Here,” he says, pulling them off his face. The glasses come into your view, and you stare at him, puzzled. 

When you don’t take them, he adds, “They won’t bite.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and finally grab them from his grasp. You pull down his sun visor to look at yourself. After sliding on the spectacles, you turn your head from side to side to see the different angles.

“I think I was right. They do look better on someone else,” you tease and face him as you shut the visor. Seungcheol turns to you at your reply.

His eyes wander across your face, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll have to agree with you this one time,” he says. His stare lingers on yours so much that it has you shifting in your seat. When you avert your gaze, your eyes widen.

“Cheol!” you shout as he was about to rear-end another car. Instinctively, he shoots an arm out across your chest that has your back pressing firmly against the seat. The sudden act causes you to reach up and grab onto his arm tightly.

The car screeches as it comes to a sudden halt. Luckily in time to not hit the other car.

You both sit still, breathing intensified at the near accident. After a few seconds, Seungcheol retracts his arm. It’s then you realize you’re still holding onto him. Your eyes dart to his forearm and frown when you see small crescent shapes indented in his skin.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Seungcheol’s focus is ahead of him but glances at you in confusion at your apology. “What?”

You quickly gesture to his forearm. When he sees the marks, he rubs a hand over them absentmindedly. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you reply, heart rate slowing down to normal.

“I’m alright. Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make you play dress up in the car.”

“No, it was my fault.”

Seungcheol eases on the gas pedal when the light turns green, keeping a safe distance from the car in front. He remains quiet for a while to ensure you are both safe.

“Are you sure you’re okay? First, you apologize, and now something is your fault?” he jokes.

You don’t remember what you said a few minutes ago, so it takes a while for you to comprehend what he is saying. “Shut up,” is all you can respond with in the end.

Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t pester you about it any longer.

“Oh, you can take these back,” you say and tug off the reason for almost hitting another car.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides the glasses back on his face.

You nestle yourself back in the seat again and glance out the window. As the buildings pass, it dawns on you that you’ve never called him Cheol. The thought of using a nickname for him has your body tingle with an unknown feeling. It’s strange. You aren’t the first to call him that, but you aren’t that close to him to start using nicknames. Annoyingly, you spend the remainder of the car ride fretting about how he felt toward you shortening his name. 

Did he even notice? If he did, did he like it? Had you crossed a line?

When he parks, you become acutely aware of everyone’s attire. Many wear jeans or tights with a plain shirt and jacket. A few have on skirts or dresses, but they are more t-shirt dresses or plain skater skirts, if anything. Plus, they are accompanied by tights because of the weather. No one has as much skin showing as you do.

The sinking feeling of not belonging consumes you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this way, and that alone has you questioning yourself even more.

“I’m too dressed for this, aren’t I?” you think out loud.

Seungcheol turns off the car, eyes raking your body again. Though this time, you’re aware of it. You tug down the bottom of your dress at his stare. It’s not like it’s predatory, but it still has your nerves skyrocketing.

“Since when did you care about what others thought of your outfit?” he wonders. The question has you sighing, momentarily closing your eyes as you remind yourself you dress for you, not for others’ approval.

“Right,” you swallow harshly and sling your purse over your shoulder—mentally throwing away the negative thoughts too. “Let’s just go.”

With that, you open his car door and step out.

“Yn wait—” you hear Seungcheol call out right as you shut the door.

Your hair is immediately pushed from your face as the wind blows past. It makes your body shiver, and for a split second, you wish you took up Seungcheol’s offer to grab a jacket when you were at your house.

Seungcheol’s car beeps as it locks before he stands in front of you. His broad body blocks the wind, and you feel your own ease from feeling a tad warmer.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude,” he apologizes softly. “I think you look great.”

You look at him, face void of emotion. You don’t believe him, but you don’t want to argue. At least not standing in this weather. 

“Okay,” you reply. “We need to go meet your friends.”

You take a step forward, thinking it will get him to start walking toward the building, but he doesn’t budge. You only decrease the distance between you two.

“I mean it,” he whispers.

Goosebumps are forming on your exposed skin the longer you stay out. You blame the cold weather for them, but something in your chest tightens at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.

“I think red is your color,” he pauses. “You should wear it more, Cherry.”

Your head tilts at his last word. “Cherry?”

The corner of his mouth raises at hearing it from your lips. Slowly, he brings a hand to your face. You stand still as you stare at him with wide eyes. His hand brushes past your cheek before he grazes his fingertips along your ear. 

“It suits you,” he murmurs, eyes moving away from yours. 

You follow his gaze and realize he has been looking at your cherry-charmed earrings. His eyes then flicker to the matching cherry-charmed necklace resting below your bare collarbones. You’re not sure if he means the color suits you or if the nickname he just made suits you. Either way, you’re surprised at his words.

Suddenly, the weather doesn't feel as chilly anymore. Your body heats quickly at his comment, or maybe it’s from how close he is to you. Nevertheless, you need to distract yourself from this warm, odd feeling bubbling in your chest.

You clear your throat and step back. His hand lowers steadily.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply more confidently and clearly.

Seungcheol takes the hint and moves aside, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He nods his head in the direction of the building, and you start walking toward it. Your pace is slightly faster than his, but you don’t mind not walking next to him. If anything, you need distance from him anyway.

The moment you open the door to the lounge, the heat from inside greets you in full force. You step inside and are welcomed by a worker. He is young, maybe a few years younger than you. He gives you a friendly smile.

“Hi, are you wanting to be seated, or are you with a group already?”

“With a group,” you reply. The worker nods.

“Do you need help locating them?”

You shake your head as the jingle of the door opening sounds behind you. Seungcheol stops behind you. His hand comes to hover over your lower back, not really touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiate from his hand onto your skin. It has you shuffling away.

“They’re over there,” he says. You peer up to see where he is gesturing. Fair enough, you see his friends at a table toward the back of the building. There are five of them, all smiling at each other. You can spot a few familiar faces—one of them being Vernon. You feel a little at ease knowing he made it here.

“Thanks,” you murmur to the worker before making your way to the table. The closer you get to the table, the slower your steps become. You’re used to keeping your chin high in situations you aren’t completely comfortable in. The whole “fake it until you make it” is on repeat in your head.

Yet the saying is not encouraging you much right now.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Seungcheol asks when he catches up to you. You don’t realize you had stopped a few feet from the table.

“No,” you say. You aren’t mad at him; you just need some space from him for now. You don’t like how you aren’t in control of your emotions when you’re around him. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”

Seungcheol eyes you for a second before nodding. You make your way to the bathroom, but right before you enter, you can hear the welcoming echoes coming from his table of friends. All of them sound cheerful and excited to see him. You don’t expect any of them to look forward to your presence, yet you feel a little disappointed when no one brings up your name—in a positive way.

After using the restroom and washing your hands, you stand in front of the mirror with your hands lingering under the warm water. Your eyes roam your face and body, taking in your appearance. Compared to your normal fashion, you really did dress down. You sigh when you realize you’re circling back to the same issue.

You retract your hands from the faucet and grab a few towels to dry them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re overly dressed. You usually are and don’t care. You look great. You should feel confident in your fit. 

You gently tug the dress down before turning in front of the mirror.

You look fine. You look nice.

As you reapply your lipstick, you keep repeating compliments and reassuring phrases in your head. 

They’re going to look at you funny. You are going to ignore them.

“That’s right,” you sigh to yourself as you toss the lipstick back into your purse. 

Suddenly, your phone starts to vibrate. You pull it out to see Dae’s name appear across the top. You eagerly answer her call.

“Hey babe,” Dae’s voice comes from the other line. “How’s it going?”

“I’m ready to go home,” you say with a small huff.

“Damn, that horrible? Is he treating you badly?” Dae questions. You had told her about Seungcheol’s invitation when you got home that day. She was shocked, but ultimately supportive of you going.

You shake your head despite her not being able to see you. “No, he’s been fine. I just,” you pause. Although you have your ups and downs with Dae, she has stayed with you when no one else has. You don’t disclose your troubles often, wanting people to not see that side of you, but you’re feeling too low that you can’t stop the confession from coming out.

“I’m way overdressed for this place. Everyone’s in jeans or tights. I don’t belong here,” you say.

Dae sighs sadly. “Jeans are boring. I think I only own a pair,” she answers, trying to make you smile. “Just remember, if you were to die right now, would you want your last outfit to be something boring?”

“No,” you answer slowly.

“Exactly. These are people who are used to looking plain. They’re probably jealous you’re outdressing them. Don’t let them get to you, Yn. I’m sure you look beautiful.”

Your shoulders ease at her words. “Thanks, Dae.”

“No need. If they had the talent to dress themselves better, they would.”

You let her words sink in, but the reassurance doesn’t last long.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, beginning to pace the small area in the bathroom.

“It’s good for you to be around people from outside our department. It’ll make you more open-minded,” she encourages. “Plus, Seungcheol isn’t as bad as he seemed, huh?”

There is a teasing tone to her voice that you don’t like.

“One outing with him doesn’t mean he’s my friend,” you argue.

Dae giggles. “No, but it’s a start. Do you like him?”

“No!” you answer quickly.

“I was just asking in general. Not ‘like’ as in crushing on him,” she explains nonchalantly, but you can hear her smile.

“He’s,” you pause as you try to think of a word to describe him, “he’s been alright.”

“Well, I better let you get back to him then. I just wanted to check in,” Dae answers.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you say.

“Remember, you don’t need their approval. You never have, and you never will. People want the confidence you have.”

“I’m not feeling too confident right now,” you mumble.

“That’s because you’re overthinking. Chin up, okay?”

Sighing, you reply. “Okay.”

“Good. Talk to you later!”

“Yeah,” you say before hanging up.

Taking one last look at yourself, you roll your shoulders back and exit the bathroom.

Seungcheol is sitting in the middle of Hajun and someone you don’t know. His eyes lift to meet yours when he hears the sound of your heels.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. 

Nodding, your eyes roam for a spot to sit.

“You knew you were just going to a poetry lounge, right? Not the runway,” Hajun comments with a small scoff.

Your eyes move to look at her, and you quirk an eyebrow. She wears leggings with a graphic tee. Her discarded jacket is slung over the back of her chair. “Are you sure you know that, as well? Or did you think you were just going back to your bed?”

“This is how normal people dress,” she replies.

“Relax, Hajun,” a voice you don’t know sounds. You direct your attention to them. 

The guy has black hair that is parted on the side to expose his forehead. His eyes are narrow, and even though he has a soft appearance now, you’re sure his gaze can be fierce when needed. 

“People don’t need to dress up for special occasions,” he says.

You’re taken aback by his comment. Seungcheol’s friends have always questioned your wardrobe, so for this new “friend” to not agree with Hajun is surprising. 

“No, they don’t, but you gotta’ admit she’s a little overdone huh, Soonyoung?” Hajun replies.

“Hajun,” Seungcheol interjects, giving her a pointed look.

“I understand not everyone knows how to dress. It’s okay, though. I can offer my services if you need some help,” you comment, half tempted to reach in your bag to get a business card. Although you aren’t on campus, you never know when you’ll run into someone who will make a good connection, so you keep them with you wherever you go.

“Services?” Hajun laughs and rests her crossed arms on the table. “And what ‘services’ are you offering? Because from the looks of it, I can tell exactly what you offer. Sorry, I’m not interested.”

Her eyes roam your body once more, indicating that the way you are dressed, means your services consist of paying to be with people in bed.

“I don’t think those services would help you anyway. Your rotting attitude is enough to repel anyone. Though I guess some people are willing to lower their standards when they’re desperate,” you counter.

“You’re such a—” she starts.

“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks Hajun quickly, but he doesn’t give her the option to answer because he takes her hand and pulls her away from the group.

The table is silent for a few seconds before Soonyoung speaks up again.

“Don’t pay any mind to her. It’s nice to meet you. You must be Yn?” He smiles at you, slightly bowing at you.

“Correct,” you say, trying to not show how irritated you feel.

“Come sit,” he offers, pulling up a chair so you’re sat between him and Vernon. You thank him before sitting in the chair. You sit your purse in your lap as conversations begin to spark again.

Their voices become background noise as your gaze drifts to Seungcheol and Hajun in the corner. They stand close to each other and are in a deep conversation—clearly about you. Seungcheol has his back to you, so you can’t see his expression, but you can see Hajun’s. Her lips are in a frown, her expression not as sassy as before. 

Though her pouting seems forced, her bottom lip a little too far stuck out. Soon enough, she rolls her eyes, an expression similar to how it was earlier. Her eyes then move from him to you over his shoulder. When she catches your gaze, she smiles and raises a challenging eyebrow. However, her gaze doesn’t last long because Seungcheol’s hand comes up and guides her eyes back to him. Even though his hand isn’t touching her completely, she leans into his touch. The act has you stilling.

“Yn?” Vernon questions, tearing you from your thoughts. You don’t realize you’re clutching your purse until your focus goes to Vernon. You ease your grip and raise an eyebrow.

“Soonyoung was asking what your major was,” Vernon explains.

“Oh,” you say, glancing around the table. It appears the others are in their own conversation.

You look at the man to your left. He gives you a reassuring smile that tells you he is patient. “I’m studying fashion design. Are you in business, too?”

Soonyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I could never. I’m a dance major.”

“Wow, that sounds nice,” you say. “Aren’t your career choices limited with that, though?”

“A little,” Soonyoung replies honestly. He doesn’t seem offended by the question. Maybe he gets it a lot. “But it makes me happy. I can always teach or maybe even become a dancer in a well-known group.”

You hum, understanding his words.

“Isn’t fashion design limited, too?” Vernon asks.

“Clothes are everywhere. I can do a lot with it.”

“But not everyone will wear your clothes,” Hana says, having finally heard your discussion.

“There will always be someone,” you argue, confident in your work. It may be a slow start, but you believe in your designs.

She laughs. “Who? Your mother?”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of your mom, and Hana is quick to notice the change in attitude. Instead of letting go of the topic, she continues.

“Ooh, trouble at home? See? I knew the ‘Great Yn’ isn’t as perfect as she seems,” Hana says. What makes her think you are so “great” is unknown to you, but you aren’t surprised to guess people have made up a persona for you. 

“Stop, Hana,” Vernon says, but it has no effect.

“Oh, so we were right?” Hajun’s voice comes from above. You glance up to see she and Seungcheol have returned. It appears their little chat did nothing to keep Hajun from being a bitch.

“Seems so,” Hana says with a smile. “Care to share with the class what kind of mommy issues you have?”

“No wonder she dresses like that,” Doyun, another one of Seungcheol’s alleged friends, adds. “She’s not getting attention at home. I guess Daddy isn’t there either?”

“That’s enough,” Seungcheol scolds them all.

Your eyes are darting from everyone at the table. Their stares are akin to shrink rays, making you feel tiny and minuscule. You know when you aren’t welcomed, and there’s no reason to stay listening to this. You want to snap back, end the conversation with your own last words, but nothing comes to mind.

In lieu, you push your chair back and stand up. Your hands twitch with the temptation to dump their food all over them, but you just want to get out as soon as possible. 

You waste no time careening for the exit. 

Seungcheol calls your name; you ignore it. The worker from before sees you, telling you goodbye, but you couldn't care less and push past the door before he can finish his sentence.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sudden breeze that slams into you. Instantly, your arms wrap around you once more. You glance around and see a bus stop down the street. You don’t care that it’s the other way from Seungcheol’s car. You hurry to the station, not sure when the next bus will come.

The bus stop isn’t deserted despite the cold weather. The area must be busy all the time since the sidewalks are littered with more people than you expect. All the seats at the stop are taken, yet you still shuffle under the shelter in hopes to get away from some of the breeze.

You are shaking, and your teeth are chattering. It’s impossible to force your body to stop since you need to generate heat somehow. You probably look like a pathetic naked chihuahua in winter.

You take out your phone, open up a browser, and search for bus times. Thankfully, there’s one coming in three minutes in the direction you need. The thought of taking the bus is not pleasurable. You hate the idea of your skin touching something so many others have touched. It feels unsanitary.

Accidentally leaning back against the wall while you silently groan has you jumping at the cold material touching your bare skin. Your jolt catches the attention of an older woman who is sitting near you.

“Aren’t you freezing, child?” she asks as she stares at your attire—or lack of. 

“I’ll be fine soon,” you say, not really in the mood for talking.

“Where is your coat? Did you not know the weather was going to be cold?” she continues.

Utterly done with all the people-talk tonight, you hiss, “Focus on yourself. I’ll focus on me.”

She seems startled at your outburst. Her already crossed arms tighten as she turns away from you. Her muttered “bitch” doesn’t go unnoticed, but you don’t say anything about it. There’s no point in arguing with a stranger.

The sound of the bus calls your attention, and you mentally thank the universe for the great timing. After people leave and all the new patrons enter, you finally take a step up the bus’ steps. Before you can climb all the way, you hear your name being called. You look past the bus doors to see Seungcheol running toward you.

Just what you need.

You disregard him and step farther up the steps of the bus.

The bus driver looks expectantly at you, and it dawns on you that you need to provide payment before you can board fully.

“Card?” you wonder. The bus driver nods and gestures to a device to the right.

As you unzip your purse, you feel a hand grip your arm.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, slightly breathless. His hair is disheveled from running, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Home, idiot,” you huff and pull your arm out of his grasp so you can retrieve your card.

“Just come with me. We can talk somewhere else,” he pleads, a hand stopping your movements again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Seungcheol,” you hiss. “Now, let go of me.”

He hesitates but slowly releases your arm. He doesn’t leave, though. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to take the bus. Come on.”

“Go with him or get on! We have places to be,” a passenger exclaims, clearly annoyed with your drama.

You raise your head to the person, narrowing your eyes in a glare that tells them to pipe down. It has no effect on them. They shoot a fierce look back.

“I know you don’t want to take the bus,” Seungcheol comments quietly.

He’s right. Not only do you not want to sit next to a lady whose arms are filled with shopping bags—the only available seat—you really don’t want to add time to your trip home.

Seungcheol reaches out again and carefully takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t fight him as he guides you off the bus. Once you’re both off, the bus doors shut and begin its trip down the road.

You watch it silently, not knowing Seungcheol is discarding his jacket until you feel the warm material cover your shoulders. Your eyes snap back to him as if remembering who you’re with.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff. I told them not to do that tonight,” he says remorsefully.

“Oh, so you’ll let them talk shit about me another day?” you chide and start walking away from him. Thankfully for Seungcheol, it’s in the direction of his car.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he replies as he hurries to catch up, which doesn’t take much effort as you aren’t walking too fast due to your cold, stiff legs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll do that whenever they want to. They wouldn’t be the first,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t make it right regardless,” he says. You halt in your steps, causing Seungcheol to stop and turn to look at you.

“I talk shit about people behind their backs, too. Does that make me a bad person?” you question. Perhaps if he sees you as one he’ll leave you alone.

He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car, okay?”

“You can admit it,” you challenge and walk closer to him. “Does talking shit about someone make me a bad person, Seungcheol?”

He stares down at you, soft gaze turning dark with annoyance.

“To the car, Yn,” he demands slowly just in case you won’t understand; his tone is sharp in a way you haven’t heard before. You don’t let that scare you away. Maybe if you weren’t so fired up, you would have been a little intimidated.

You laugh darkly and roll your eyes at his command. “You want me to sit next? Bark, too?”

“Now, you’re just being dramatic.”

Dramatic, he says.

“Woof?” you reply, dramatically giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches at your response—not pleased with your sarcasm. However, instead of replying in an annoyed tone, he takes a step forward. His head draws closer to your face to ensure your eyes are glued to his.

“Wanna be a good girl and go to the car, Cherry?” he murmurs lowly, an eyebrow quirking up for a second.

His sudden change in tone has you stiffening. You want to bite back��figuratively or literately… you aren’t sure yet—but you can’t even remember what you are mad about in the first place.

“Hm?” he croons when you don't reply quickly.

Rather than a sarcastic reply, you simply grumble, “whatever,” before pushing past him to get to his car.

You stand next to the passenger side like before, waiting for him to unlock it. Seungcheol comes beside you and swiftly unlocks the vehicle. Although you aren’t arguing at the moment, you can sense some irritation lingering from him.

You get the feeling he'll always hold the door open no matter how annoyed he is with you.

You feel suffocated.

The air in the car is too hot. The weight of his jacket has you overheating. The tension is unbearable.

Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the road, not throwing you a single glance as he drives. Every once in a while he will tighten his hold on the steering wheel. One time you even catch the way his muscles flex at the motion—now exposed from not wearing his jacket. You never realized how fit he is. This isn’t the first time you have seen him sleeveless, but you just never stared long enough to notice. Or if you did, you simply didn’t care. Regardless, you notice now, and you have to force your eyes away before he catches you staring.

You want to ask for music so you don’t have to sit in this insufferable silence, but your mouth feels dry. You decide to just deal with the quietness, shifting in the seat so you’re facing the window more. Your eyes drift close as you let the hum of the car distract you. 

Seungcheol’s jacket is snuggled around you, and his woodsy cologne fills your senses. It’s pleasant, and you don’t mind if you smell more of it in the future.

By the time you arrive home, you are on the verge of sleep. You stumble out of the car and shut the door without saying a word to Seungcheol. You expect him to drive off, but the sound of his tires moving never comes. Instead, you hear his car door opening and closing.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you say while you glance behind you. Seungcheol is following you languidly.

“No, I don’t,” he says and pauses at the bottom of your porch steps. He places a foot on the first step while a hand holds onto the rail. You have your keys out, ready to slide them into the keyhole when you speak.

“Then don’t,” you reply sternly.

He chuckles lowly but doesn’t say anything about it.

“You can go now,” you say when he doesn't move.

“You have something of mine.”

Puzzled, you stare at him for a second. Seungcheol gestures to your body, and you quickly remember you’re wearing his jacket. You tug it off and toss it to him. He grabs it from the air with ease. The loss of heat makes you wish he didn’t say anything.

“Goodnight, Cherry,” he murmurs as soon as you click open your door. You step inside before turning to face him.

The nickname you used earlier forms on your tongue, yet you can’t find the courage to say it consciously.

“Night,” you answer, then shut the door before either of you can say anything else.

With your head bowed, you turn the lock slowly while you exhale deeply. His nickname falls from your lips under your breath—unable to keep the desire at bay.

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

A/N: Can't believe the first chapter is actually published 😭 I sat and stared at this for a few before hitting "post" because I'm so anxious! dfl;kbjdvs. Please feel free to share your thoughts on it so far!

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @iammisstora, @christinewithluv, @lithelust, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @yoozuku, @lockburn-castle, @mystikhal-blog, @oncloudvii23 (couldn't tag :c), @cheolcherries (tysm!!!)

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[rgbyshipper101]

It’s DP Side Hoes Week!

And I may have forgotten and written this in one day but-!

Here is my entry for Super Danny!

It’s also heroic amusement so enjoy!

Super Danny

Off Duty/Domestic

“Sizzling spirits!”

Super looked on in disgust at the deplorable condition of Fun’s bedroom. Papers were strewn all over the desk. Dirty laundry piled onto the bed. Food wrappers littered the floor instead of in the wastebasket. It was right there! How could he miss it?

Unbelievable. How could his former human half live in such disarray?

Speaking of him, Fun waved at him from his chair, nose deep in his laptop. “Hey, dude!”

“Don’t you act all nonchalant with me, human! “This is unacceptable! How could you leave this room in such a disgusting condition?”

“Well,” Fun shrugged, “I finished my homework. Lancer was boring and he gave me detention for sleeping in class.” He smiled at Super. “Tuck gave me his notes, though. So, it worked out in the end.”

Super huffed. Honestly! How could he take his education so unseriously? “I’ve had enough of your lazy, lowlife lifestyle! We are resolving this today! Right now,” he pointed at the door, “You are cleaning your room.”

Fun put his hands up, placatingly. “Alright, alright, I figured I’d do the more important thing first.” He stood up and stretched. His shirt rode up a bit, exposing his stomach, and Super quickly looked away. “Just promise you won’t disappear immediately. I know you patrolled all morning.”

“But of course! How else am I to make sure this city is free of conniving criminals?”

“Did you catch any today?”

Super’s puffed up chest deflated a bit. “Well, no.”

“Ah,” Fun smiled, mischievously. “I see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? They could be scheming something dastardly later and I have to take care of it.”

“Mhm,” Fun dismissively waved his hand. “You hold that thought, dude. I’ll be back.” He gathered his clothes and left, presumably to start cleaning.

Super sighed once the door closed. The fact that the ghosts haven’t been around today didn’t worry him. What worried him was that it was two days since he last saw one. Super didn’t understand. Were they all plotting something against him? Why would it take so long?” He crossed his arms, hugging himself. This is the calm before the storm. It must be.

Super was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t realize Fun came back until he heard the vacuum turn on. He jumped, startled, and whirled around, ectoplasm crackling in hand.

Fun blinked at him. “Whoa, hotshot, it’s just me.” He gave a toothy grin. “I’m not that threatening, am I?”

“Hardly!” Super turned his nose up, his power dissipating. “You should know better than to sneak up on ghostly ghouls.”

He snorted, “Okay, GG dude.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“Never said it was.”

“You-!” Super turned his head and tried to compose himself. He was shocked to see all the wrappers in the garbage and desk clean. “When did you finish cleaning?”

Fun pulled the plug and put the vacuum in the corner. “Since I came back. You okay GG?”

“Again with that?” Super mumbled.

“I walked in here, saw you pouting, and decided to start before you got more upset.” He snickered. “You jumped so far up at the noise I thought I was watching a Luney Toones cartoon.” He walked over to the TV and turned it on, flipping down on the bed in the process. He patted the space next to him. “Come here! You’re gonna miss it.”

Super had no idea what he was talking about but floated over regardless. Probably another silly show that he’s been watching. What were they called? Amine? Anima? Whatever. The one with the boy in space was pretty good, though…

Super yelped as he was pulled onto a warm body by a hand. Said hand wrapped itself around him, holding him close.

Super squirmed a bit, blushing. “Why must you be so, so-“

“Charming?”

“Absolutely annoying!”

Fun chuckled before using both hands to gently cradle Super’s head. Super didn’t realize what he was doing until he saw his cape maneuvered in front of him. He sucked in a breath, angered. “Hey!”

“Relax,” Fun spread his cape on their legs, containing their warmth. “It’s mine, too-“

Super clenched his fists and ducked his head. Right. One of Fun’s belongings.

“Just like how my room is your room,” He gave Super a side eye and smiled, “My bed, your bed. Your burden, my burden.”

Super blinked at the statement then shook his head. “The city is my responsibility.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help,” Fun snuggled closer, “or that you can’t ask for help.”

Super leaned back and grabbed his hand, slotting their fingers together.

“Which means my mess is also your mess-oof!”

“Some things are only your things,” Super said, pulling the pillow away.

“And time. You have your time to do what you want when you want. But would you like to spend your time with me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“The portal’s closed for construction, so…”

Super grabbed Fun as he laughed. “You knew why there were no ghosts?!”

“You wouldn’t have believed me!”

Super hated how he was right. “Fine! I can spend some of my invaluable time doing a mundane thing.”

“Watching Gravity is mundane?”

Super straightened up. “We’re watching Gravity?”

“Hell yeah, dude!”

“No swearing!”

Fun smiled at the cute expression on Super’s face, encircling his arms around his torso.

As the movie played, Fun felt Super’s stiff posture slowly melt into him, and he hugged his ghostly ghoul to his chest. By the time the movie ended, he heard snores coming from Super. Fun smiled gently and kissed Super’s temple.

Finally. He finally got Super to rest and even stay with him for the night. Super dude works too hard for no reward. He couldn’t believe his plan worked. Now he can finally relax.

Fun grinned. How’s that for being lazy?

[russellsppttemplates]

Seb and mama convincing mick to keep a puppy that they found on the street

Tw: mentions a dog getting older, supposed dog abandonment, vaccinations and deworming

"Do you think it's a good idea?", you asked your son, expecting him to give you a more elaborate answer, but, really, what was a five year old going to tell you? "Of course, mama. When papa sees her, he'll want to keep her too if we don't find her family", he said, full of hope.

When you, with Harriet safely strapped to your chest, and Sebastian took Angie for her walk in the afternoon, you came across a beautiful dog who started playing with yours. The street was quiet and there wasn't anyone around, and while the dog didn't look in distress, you could tell that she had had better days, and when you wanted to go back home, Sebastian was worried for her, "what if she doesn't know where her family is? She came some with us, right? We have a big house", he reasoned, eventually winning you over and taking her home with you.

When Mick got home, Aurora went straight upstairs to do her homework, leaving you and Sebastian to attempt your best at convincing him, "why is there another dog in our garden? Is it one of your colleagues'?", your husband asked, taking your silence as a clue to turn around and face you, placing his glass of water down on the kitchen island, seeing you and Sebastian sitting in two of the stools like you were about to have an important business meeting.

"Papa, when me, Harriet and mama went on our walk with Angie today", Sebastian began his explanation, "we found this dog! And she was all alone, she didn't have any friends, no dog friends or friends like us, no people, and we didn't want to leave her alone, and she followed us, too. Can we keep her?", he asked as if he had just asked him if he could have an extra cookie.

"There wasn't anyone around, and all of the neighbours said she wasn't theirs", you reasoned, "we're going to get her checked to see if someone is missing her, but if it all checks out, I don't see why she can't join our family", you said as Sebastian nodded in agreement with what you said.

"We'll get her checked out to see if there is a family, like ours, out there missing her, okay? Imagine if it was Angie and we didn't know where she was? You wouldn't let other family keep her, right?", Mick explained to his son, seeing him nod before he jetted off, "okay, but we'll keep her if we can, okay? Pretty please, papa! Look, she loves playing with Angie!", he pointed to the window before he headed upstairs.

"You made them that bossy", he retorted, chuckling as he kissed the side of your head, "your genetics made them that cute and impossible to say no to", you reasoned back, hugging your husband's waist as you looked at the two dogs playing with eachother, "but I stand by Seb's idea, she would be a good addition to the family. As much as it pains me to say it, Angie's getting old and she won't be around for much longer, and the kids would love having a dog", you noted.

"I know", he rubbed your back, "We'll see what the vet says about her microchip and we'll go from there. She looks well treated and fed, she's good around people and kids", he added, "yes, she was a bit dirty when we found her, or she found us, too, but we cleaned it off".

The next morning, you and Mick were able to drop the kids in school and Harriet at his mother's house, explaining the situation and taking the dog to your vet. A quick read of her microchip and a few phonecalls that sounded a little like made up stories, the vet agreed that the right course of action would be to send the golden retriever to the local dog kennel so she could be out up for adoption.

"Can we adopt her?", Mick asked immediately, surprising you a tiny bit, "we have Angie, as you know, and surprisingly they got along very well, and the kids like her too", he reasoned, squeezing your hand and looking at the vet, "well, it seems you have a new family, Hazel", she smiled.

"Thank you, handsome", you told your husband while the veterinary team checked how her vaccinations and deworming routines were so they could make sure she was in presteen health, "Sebastian is going to be pretty happy, I guess", he blushed, "we have a new member in the family, Hazel Schumacher", you said as you smiled at the new furry friend.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[piillow]

can you write a skz comfort fic where the reader struggles with their university work pls and they comfort her?? xoxo

OMGGG yes comfort fics i love these also first request!!!!!! everybody cheer (queue awkward silence)

( •̀ ω •́ )✧

bsf!skz x gn!reader | cws : lots of implied sadness/stress/overworking, starving mentioned | wc : 2.5k | a/n : sorry some are shorter than others :(

chan -

- you'd been spending less time with him ever since it was midterms season. he understood you needed to study, but you seemed to be cooped up in your textbooks all too much.

- "y/n? don't you think it's time for a break?" he asked you. you just shrugged it off and replied with a quick "no."

- he sighed and let you do your own thing. he had plans to go to the library with some friends for an hour or two to study, so he hoped that you'd be done by the time he got back.

- but, lo and behold, you were still studying when he got back.

- "y/n! please... go to bed? i know we have midterms this week, but... sleep is still important, you know."

- "i know, chan. but i want to get as much done as i can, i've still got homework to finish."

- "here, we'll make a deal, yeah? you can study until midnight, but you'll only study until eight tomorrow night. your classes end at three, so five hours of studying."

- "what?! but.. chan! that's not enough!" you replied, slightly disappointed.

- "so, will you take the deal?"

- "fine..." you said while sighing.

- as the rest of the week went on, chan decided to invite you to his short library sessions with his friends, and even let you invite your friends along too.

- once midterms finally rolled around, he was always there for you.if it was comforting you with your late night study sessions, or even sending you a simple motivational text while you were taking your actual test. 

- it was the little things he did that made it better. so, maybe the deal wasn’t that bad after all.

minho -

- minho had been studying with you since lunchtime, and it was almost dinner time.

- "y/n-ah, time for a break. it's almost time for dinner, what do you want?"

- "i'm fine, min. i'll just make some instant ramen, don't worry about me."

- the surprised face he had made was.. interesting, to say the least. "y/n, eating is just as important as studying. it's on me, i promise. what do you want to eat?" he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

- "are you sure? if you say so... i'll just eat what you're making, chef's choice." you said, giving him a smile.

- "ooh, okay! i promise you'll love it~"

- "wait.. not spicy food though!"

- "aww, fine..." he replied, pouting at you. “but still, why don’t you take a break? it’s been five hours, i’m sure your brain has gotten enough work done.” he says, standing up.

- “you’ll have to help me make dinner, it’s hard to make food with two hands, y’know?” he teased, but with full intent to get you to help him in the kitchen.

- “you- ugh, fine… i suppose i’ll help you.” you replied in your fake annoyance tone, to which minho had happily smiled at.

- as you walked into the kitchen to see many ingredients sprawled across the table, you were met with a very happy minho.

- which meant that you were in for a long cooking session. and possibly baking too..?

changbin -

- you’re both at the gym, sitting on a random bench while doing some sets of curls.

- then, from out of nowhere, you remember about a research paper that was due tomorrow. while you really wanted to tell changbin that you had to go and finish it, you didn’t want to finish your workout short today. 

- so, you didn’t. - it was currently 6:30am, and you had a bit over 30 hours to get it done. - but, it was a tuesday. you had classes, which meant more work, which meant you were definitely staying up tonight.

- just as you two were leaving the gym, you turned to him and asked “hey, you remembered the research paper for comp sci, right?” - “oh yeah, i finished it like, two days ago. it’s due tomorrow.” … right. of course he knew. he’s always on top of everything. - “yeah, i know that, just gotta make sure y’know? i mean, i cou-” - “could just check the syllabus.” he interrupted. “y/n, you didn’t even start it, did you?” he said in a flat tone. it’s almost like he could read through you. “y/n, c’mon. you really gotta start getting on top of your work…” - “i know bin, but.. i’m just so tired from everything. all these professors i have to email, all these papers i need to write, all the equations i have to solve. it’s getting overwhelming and i don’t know what to do. i know i have to work, but i just get stressed at the thought of it.” you admitted. it was getting too hard, too quick. but you couldn’t make it stop.

- as you two got into the car, he turned his keys and started pulling out of the parking lot. but, he wasn’t going to the dorms. he turned in a different direction.

- “bin, where are you going? this isn’t the way to the dorms, let alone campus in general.”

- “let me do my thing, y/n. you just have to sit here and relax, don’t worry about a thing. i promise.” he said.

- while you decide to get some shut eye while he drives, you suddenly wake up in the parking lot of your favorite cafe outside of campus. you always complained about how the ones on campus were always so crowded, and of course changbin took note of it.

- as he woke you up to your surprised face, he said “we’ll be staying here today. you have your laptop, don’t you?”

hyunjin -

- as you two sat in your non air-conditioned and sweaty dorm room, hyunjin was starting to get bored of trying to take a nap. so, he decided to take out his sketchbook, and draw you at your desk.

- he’d been listening to you type away at your laptop for what seemed like three hours, possibly more. you were in the same position when he went to bed, and still being in that position started to worry him. - “hey, y/n? you good over there? you’ve been working for like, 10 hours straight.” he said, walking over to where you were.

- “just working. i have to get this paper done for tonight, i have no time to waste.” you reply, not bothering to look at him while you shuffle through your tabs of resources and documents.

- “and… how much else do you have to finish?” he asks while adding some more hatching to his current sketch.

- “... three lectures i have to take notes on for quizzes next week.” you blurt out.

- “that’s next week. it’s only sunday, this week just started. why don’t you take a break after you finish? that’s your conclusion paragraph, no?” he asks again, leaning a bit closer to you so he can see your screen.

- “yeah, this is my conclusion. but i’d rather get it done earlier than i need to.” you reply while you proofread your paper once again. 

- once you let out a groan while you fix one of your mistakes, hyunjin pipes up. “here, give me your laptop, i’ll proofread it for you. it’ll be easier, since i haven’t read it before.”

- as you hand him your laptop, you take a peek at his sketchbook and the sketch of you. as he glances over the top of the laptop, he slides it a bit closer to you so you can see it better.

- while you admired the sketch of you, and while he proofread your paper, the silence in the room was nice. it wasn’t too awkward, not too tense, just… right.

- “it’s really good. i fixed what i had to, by the way.” he said, placing your laptop back on your desk.

- “you didn’t fix anything, though.” you say, confused.

- “yeah, because there was nothing to fix.” he replies.

- “oh- OHHH.” you say, facepalming yourself while hyunjin just laughs. “hey! don’t laugh at me like that. not my fault i’m a bit slow…” you say, crossing your arms.

- seeing your slight disappointment, his laughs come to a stop. “okay, okay, fine. but still, seriously, it was fine. and here, your gift.” he says while ripping out the page and handing it to you.

- “thanks. i guess i owe you, don’t i?” you ask as you took the paper.

- “cafe day?”

- “cafe day.”

jisung -

- you and jisung had clicked ever since you two became roommates at the start of the semester. just two new freshmen who were just trying to survive their first semester at college.

- so, while he was out at his night classes, you were working at the dorm. and almost every time he got back, he’d see you fast asleep in your bed.

- since you two couldn’t really talk to each other much, you decided to start writing sticky notes for him to read in the morning. they were always short messages, mostly consisting of anything similar to “i hope you’re doing well in your classes :)” or “hope you slept well.”

- so, when he entered your dorm room at 1am, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to be awake.

- “y/n? well, i wasn’t expecting to come back to this. what’s up? how are you doing?” he asks, not hiding his surprise.

- “oh, hi. i’m working. you?” you rushed out of your mouth. you felt like you were running on 100k/mph, and nothing could slow you down. there was no time for distractions, you just had to finish this assignment.

- han, sensing something is up, says “quickly cramming something? i can help you if you want. or, well, try my best, at least.”

- after hearing the word “help,” you jolt you head to the side to look at him. “really? you’ll help me? Seriously? oh my goodness, you’re a lifesaver! i can’t proofread for the life of me!” 

- as he sees relief wash over your face, he can’t help but smile. “yeah, i could! after this, you just have to turn it in, yeah?” he asks as you hand your mac over to him and nod.

- while he proofreads your work, you end up rambling to him about how you just hope that your professor doesn’t fail you. even though he wasn’t fully focused on you, he was just happy he could help you in any way.

- as he watched you turn in your assignment, he gave you a high five. “nice! now you can finally sleep, so i guess it’s my turn to start working now. good night y/n, sleep well.”

felix -

- whenever felix had arrived from his culinary classes, he almost always had some food with him, and he was always willing to share with you.

- today, he brought back an assortment of fried goods, which you could smell the second he opened the door.

- “ah, hi y/n. sorry about the smell..” he says as he takes his shoes off.

- you turned your chair to him, hoping that you’d be able to see what was in his bag. “it’s fine, at least it’s good food and not b/o.” you joked, which made both of you laugh.

- “still,” you continued, “what’d you bring? Chicken?”

- “spot on. and they let us experiment with random foods, so i tried frying some tteokbokki.” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. “definitely don’t recommend. i almost burnt myself from the oil like, twenty times.” he continued, sighing.

- “sounds pretty stressful, but i assume that that’s an understatement?” you ask, to which he nods almost right away. “i see.. well, if it makes you feel better, i’ve been working on these stupid geometry problems for like, two hours straight. i really need a break.” you admit, rubbing your temples.

- “well, why don’t we dig in? it’s still warm, and you can rant to me about whatever you want. sounds like a pretty even trade deal, hm?”

- and that ended up leading to a long dinner, with you two eating almost everything he had brought back. but, he would gladly do it again if it meant you’d be able to let go of some stress just for a little while.

seungmin -

- you two decided that today would be a good day to sit outside and get some work done, until it started to rain, and your laptop started to get water in it.

- once you got inside, you two checked the condition of your laptop, and after realizing it wasn’t turning on, this made you two bummed out.

- but you weren’t just bummed out. you had been working on a lab assignment due at 11:59 tonight, and it was 5pm. 

- after smashing the power button a few more times, you groaned. “great. i guess i’m going to fail this assignment that’s worth the same as a quiz. how beautiful.” you said sarcastically, shutting your laptop shut.

- “you wanna use mine? it’s back at the room, and besides, we got enough time outside today. i guess the rain was just a sign to tell us to come in.” he replied, hoping to lighten the mood.

- you raised a surprised eyebrow at him, “really?” you asked. “really.” he replied. “well, i will gladly take your offer. i’ll take anything i can to get this done. thank you so much.”

- as you worked, he happily accompanied you, even singing you a few songs, and being happily surprised when he heard you singing or humming along.

jeongin -

- you both sat at a table at the library, just studying in between your classes until your friend called you.

- “y/n! there’s gonna be a party at f/n’s house, you wanna go?” they ask.

- “oh, i would love to, but i’m too busy.. i’m sorry. tell me how it goes though! i hope you have fun.” you say, before hanging up the phone and sighing.

- jeongin looks over at you as you sigh, looking slightly concerned. “you okay? i know what it’s like to miss out on parties too. i’ve had to miss a lot, but i get over the fomo pretty quickly. i can stay with you tonight, if you’d like.” he offers. 

- you glance over at him, confusion written all over your face. “how’d you know- never mind. you’d stay with me? really? but i don’t want to be the reason you don’t go, then i’ll feel guilty too.” you say. - “no, really, it’s fine, y/n. if i’m being honest, i have lots of work to get done too, so it’s okay.” he reassures you as he pulls out his phone. “oh, it’s almost time for my class. i’ll see you later though. bye for now, y/n!”

- while he waved to you as he walked out of the library, you couldn’t help but think about his nice gesture to stay with you later. sure, there was a possibility he could be lying, but it was nice of him to do what he did.