#in searching for a dramatic and deep heartbreak

[righteousdelusions]

One year ago in a fit of rage I ended a long distance relationship, and you guys all know how hard that was for me. But at least the playlist was fire 🤪

[mykoreanlove]

Unraveling fate

It is said that humans live a blissful life as souls up in the sky before they decide to incarnate onto the earthly realms. 

Up there everything is effortless and sweet, so perfect that we couldn’t ever imagine it properly. Yet, they decide to give up their eden perfection to come down to earth. Why you may ask?

Because they get bored. Too much of anything is deadly, even if it’s something as precious as blissful love. 

Hence, they make plans to come down to earth in order to play. Some souls are rather boring, whereas other souls are quite dramatic - making up a full play for them to enjoy. They look for other souls to play their part - mothers, fathers, villains or lovers. 

„You’re gonna do this to me and I’m gonna do that to you and we may hate each other for a while but in the end it will be all so sweet“, they giggle while making plots. What they don’t know though is that once their souls incarnate back to earth, they will forget everything they once knew - scheming plans included. 

The states of feeling mighty and powerful get replaced with vulnerability and insecurity, divinity in exchange for humanity.

A deep sigh escaped Eun Woo’s lips as he watched you cry into your pillows for the fifth time this week. 

„What’s wrong?“, his friend asked concerned.

„It’s y/n.“, he answered flatly.

„What about her?“

Eun Woo turned around and mustered his friend, thinking of the right words to predict his dilemma.

„Do you remember when she used to be with us up here?“

His friend nodded silently.

„Back then we made the perfect plan. We created our own drama, so to say.“

„What was it about?“

Flashbacks of those times entered his mind, filling his heart with a deep longing.

„Are you really sure, y/n?“, Eun Woo whispered while placing delicate kisses on your neck.

„Yes. I want to do it like that this time.“, you nodded enthusiastically.

„My love. Let’s go through the plan once more, then.“

„I will incarnate onto earth and live a miserable life. I will fail in love over and over until I can’t take it anymore. I want to discover love as a fragile, little human. I want to understand their pain and their agony. I want to be miserable, utterly miserable. I want to build my own hell and I want to understand how I’m doing it… And then, once I’m ready, then you show up, BOOM, the love of my life - in heaven and on earth and you rescue me from my deep despair and then we can be..“

„Happy.“, he interrupted. 

A big smile formed on your face. 

„Yes. Happy.“

„So, why are you so sad then? The plan seems solid.“, Eun Woo’s friend remarked.

„Somehow it’s not. She did fail in love. A lot of times. But somehow she can’t get past that stage..“, Eun Woo explained.

„How can that happen? Isn’t it written in the stars, like destiny?“

„It should be, yes.“

Both stayed silent for a while and thought about ways to resolve this. 

„Can’t you just swoop in and rescue her?“

He shook his head sadly. 

„Why not?“

„Because she wouldn’t let me.“

„Let you? Aren’t you like… her soulmate?“, his friend asked confused.

„I am. And because of that I will always find my way back to her, heaven or earth, doesn’t really matter. But she’s not ready for me, yet.“

„How can you tell?“

Eun Woo walked over to the shelf where he was keeping his collection of your play. Each act carefully documented, each act waiting for its grand finale. He came back with a heavy book, searching for the right pages.

„Do you know when souls finally find each other?“, Eun Woo asked.

„No idea.“, his friend remarked.

„It’s when they’re ready for one another. Now tell me - do you think this sounds ready?“, he asked as he pushed the book over to his friend.

It’s official - I am unlovable. Seems like everybody and their mother can find the love of their lives but not me. I’m not meant for love. I’m meant for heartbreak. Because that’s what men do - break your heart. First, they use me for sex and then they dispose me like a tissue. Reject me. Abandon me. Block me.

Relationships suck. Love sucks. This is too hard and it always ends in pain. Fuck this shit, I’m going to die alone. Because apparently nobody wants to be with me. Or get to know me. I’m just not someone you fall in love with.

„Yikes“, Eun Woo’s friend flinched. „Gotta give it to her - she does sound like a real human though.“, he drily remarked.

Eun Woo rolled his eyes in frustration. This shit was eating him up.

Even if he descended onto earth now and forgot about all your pain, he would never be able to get through to you. 

„Men really did a number on her, huh?“, his friend asked. 

„It’s what she wanted. Some drama to enjoy our love more. And drama she got…“, he explained sadly.

„So what are you going to do?“

Eun Woo averted his gaze back onto you, watching you from above as you cried and cried and cried. 

„Waiting for a miracle, I guess.“

„Aren’t you tired of waiting?“

„What else am I supposed to do?“, he snapped.

„The plan is already rigged, you said so yourself. Can’t you use that to your advantage and rig it further?“, his friend proposed.

Eun Woo thought for a second - could he really do that? Go against fate like that? 

Your sobs made his stomach churn once again, he had to act, no matter the consequences.

„Come with me“, he demanded as he left the room.

„Where are we going?“, his friend called after him.

„Rigging the fucking plan.“ 

[thistlearts]

My first degree is musical theatre and direction. I swear to you no composer in their right mind and understanding of musical storytelling writes a theme song of a character like “Song of Balduran” with a simplistic egoistical villain in mind.

The musical direction is superb in this game. They definitely knew what they were doing. This song is filled with very specific dramatic storytelling which is anything but villainous. It’s bitter, very sad and very heartbreaking but filled with hope. Just listen to those harmonies, how the music BREATHES as if trying to soar up, and going down in sorrow. It has a very sinister yet deep and sincere feeling to it.

It juggles “dark” minor tragic passages with light and uplifting elements with incredible mastery. It's lyrical and yet has a very strong dramatic base. The music sold me the character sooner than I got to know him. Music is the language I speak much better than words, tbh.

Everything from the choice of instruments, harmonies, tempo, key screams drama and complexity and even tragedy. Nothing villainous there. While Raphael’s theme is intentional “Disney villain stylisation” which was clearly meant to be this way. Astarion's theme song "I Want to live" is an edgy rock ballad, which also suits the character very well in terms of symbolism. They are so intentional with sound directing. They don't stick to a single genre. They use some obvious folk motives with Nightsong's theme, for example, with all those mythical references to ancient goddesses.

The key instruments in The Song of Balduran are a fucking harp and soaring violins, along with little bells. Come on! Those instruments together are just as heartbreaking and "darkness searching for light" as you can get in terms of musical symbolism.

[talesmaniac89]

Halloween Surprise

Pairing :  (Former) Dean x reader

Summary: You're out trick or treating with your son when you run into someone from your past. Someone with the same green eyes as your son.

Warnings: Feelings of betrayal, secrets, breakup and heartbreak.

Word Count: 5081

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

“Lucas! Are you ready to go?” You called up the stairs as you frowned down at your wristwatch. It was already getting a bit late, and you didn’t want to be out when it was dark outside. You’d long since learned what was lurking in the darkness, but ever since you had your son you’d grown even more wary of the lengthening shadows that came with twilight. 

Yet, though you were on a pretty tight trick or treating schedule, the little rascal upstairs remained nearly suspiciously quiet as you tapped the boot of your Wonder Woman costume impatiently. 

“Lucas (Y/L/N)!” You called up again, channeling every ounce of strict motherly love you could into your voice as you debated going up to check what the cheeky little five year old was up to. The beginning of fear and panic rearing its ugly head as your carefully developed hunter’s instincts always went to the worst possible outcome.  Yet, the little giggle that easily reached you from the top of the stairs quickly calmed your frayed nerves and reminded you that you were no longer a hunter. You’d left that life behind you nearly six years ago. The moment you realized you were pregnant. 

“No Lucas up here mommy!” Your son’s cheeky little voice called back, the poorly concealed giggles drawing a smile out of you as you rolled your eyes at the little guy. His love for the dramatic was clearly something he’d gotten from his father. Though the man in question would probably disagree and say it was a trait your son had gotten from you. Swallowing down the bittersweet feeling that always followed any thought of the man you’d loved and lost, you took a deep breath before calling back up to your little man.

“Really? Oh, that’s too bad, but… Does Batman wanna come trick or treating with mommy then?” You called back with a small smile. One that only grew from the happy squeal leaving your little vigilante as he bounced into view. Before carefully taking the stairs the moment you reminded him not to run down the carpeted staircase. 

“Yes! Batman wants candy!” His young voice was still high pitched and innocent. But Lucas still tried to mimic the deep, whispered voice of Batman as he hurried down the stairs. His Batman mask was slightly crooked on his freckled nose as he came to a full stop in front of you with green eyes looking up at you in anticipation. 

“Alright then Batman. It’s just you and me today then. We’ll have to bring some candy back for Lucas too,” You said with a soft laugh as you kneeled down to fix his crooked mask and smooth his slightly tousled nest of hair. 

“It’s me mommy!” Your little guy whispered as he lifted the mask, showing you his best conspiratory look as he gently placed the mask back on, just as crooked as it had been before you initially fixed it. 

“It’s a secret, hussssh” He continued as he let you fix his mask for him once more. 

“Mommy won’t tell anyone. Promise. Now, are you ready to go trick or treating pumpkin? Remember, we have to be back before it gets dark,” You asked your little superhero as you reached out for his Batman windbreaker and helped him put it on. 

“Yes! Trick or Treat!” He called out loudly and cheerfully, just like you’d practiced. Giving him a warm smile, you grabbed his little bucket in one hand, before reaching out to put his small hand in your free one. Ready to go door to door in search of treats, and hopefully no tricks. 

--- 

Halloween had never been your favorite time of year. Which was understandable, given how you’d grown up. But Lucas had given you a newfound appreciation for the day. And though you were still slightly on edge as you scanned the busy crowds out in your little, safe, cul de sac, you were much more at ease than you’d been when you first left the hunting life behind you. 

Which was probably how you missed the two men mingling with the crowds dressed in suits, stopping parents to show off fake FBI badges as you focused on getting your son from one house to the next. Along with a few of the other neighborhood moms. 

Hell, you even missed the clearly lustful looks thrown their way by Sharon, your neighbor three houses down from yours. Even though she was barely watching her own little monsters as they tried to steal an extra chocolate bar from the bowl, choosing instead to oogle the two agents as they quietly questioned parents a bit further down the road, making their way up towards you. 

Honestly, even if you had noticed him before Tara had leaned over to you to whisper some not so child friendly words into your ear, you weren’t sure what you would’ve done. Would you have ran away? Maybe… Frozen in place? Probably. 

Considering that was exactly what you ended up doing. Your hand squeezed Lucas’ a little as you gently pulled your little superhero behind you and let your eyes follow Tara’s down the street, just a little past the next house your route would take you to. Where a face you thought you’d never see again was looking back at you, green eyes wide and FBI badge lowered from where he’d just raised it to interrogate yet another thirsty soccer mom. 

“Dean,” The name that once had tasted sweeter than pie on your lips came out as a broken whisper as you tried, and failed, to tear your eyes off of the devastatingly handsome man. 

“Wait, you know him? When did you meet an FBI agent (Y/N)? And can you introduce me to his partner?” Tara asked, a little too loudly for your liking, next to you as her excited eyes went from you and over to Dean before coming right back to you again. 

“I… Yeah, I know him. Look, Tara. Could you take Lucas to the next house? I should… Say hi?” You managed to push the words out as you fought against the nearly nostalgic cotton mouthed feeling Dean Winchester always left you with. Though you were still not sure you had what it took to speak to him after… What had happened. You really had no choice. Not only because he’d spotted you. But because he was there. On your street. 

And when a Winchester came to your street, it was usually not just for a friendly visit. 

But still, you couldn’t bring Lucas with you. Not when the bright green eyes and dusting of freckles over a button nose easily betrayed whose son he was. A son Dean had no clue you’d been raising for the last five years ever since he pushed you away. 

“Only if you get me the number of that tall drink of water over there,” She shot back, already undressing Sam with her best bedroom eyes as you rolled your eyes at her. 

“Tara, you’re married. Happily at that,” You reminded your best ‘mom friend’ as she grinned back at you. 

“A girl can dream (Y/N),” She laughed, before shooting you a small cheeky wink, and dropping down to speak to Lucas instead. 

“Lucas…” She started, before your little guy shook his head quickly, still hidden from Dean’s view behind you. 

“Batman,” Lucas corrected as he clutched his bucket of sweets. As if he was afraid his aunty Tara was planning to steal his hard earned loot. 

“Alright Batman. Do you wanna come with aunty and Robbie to the next house? Your mommy needs to go talk to someone,” Tara said as she reached out her free hand, patiently pretending she couldn’t feel her own one year younger kid pulling at her other hand for her to hurry. As if the little ninja turtle next to her thought the houses would run out of candy if they didn’t hurry. 

“Can I mommy?” Lucas looked up at you through his little Batman mask. Puppy eyes fully engaged as he looked from his bucket of treats and back up at you, as if to stay he still didn’t have enough sugar to last him till next Halloween. 

Even though he already had plenty. 

“Go ahead, pumpkin. Mommy will be right there,” You nodded as you let go of his little hand and let Tara grab it instead. Somewhat reluctantly, as your hunting instincts always worried when the apple pie of your eye was out of reach. 

Giving your friend a grateful smile, you watched the three of them for a second as they walked up the path to the next house. Smiling slightly at Batman’s happy bounce up the footpath, before you turned back to look at Dean again. 

Only to realize he was no longer there. 

“(Y/N),” Just as you were about to scan the crowd for him, the sound of his voice to the left of you made you jump slightly as you cursed your rusty reflexes and pivoted to face him. Doing your absolute damndest to pretend his deep voice didn’t still send pleasurable shockwaves through your body. 

“Dean,” You whispered back as you tried to find your voice under the breathless vertigo that always took over whenever Dean Winchester was anywhere nearby. 

“Thank God. When we didn’t hear anything I thought you…” He said, relief evident in his voice, though you could also hear the early warning signs of worried anger brewing just under the surface. Though he had no right to be angry at you. Not since… 

Not after what happened that night. 

“I’m fine. I just… I quit the business,” You shot back, biting back the words you actually wanted to tack on to the end of your sentence… After you broke my heart. But by the way Dean’s shoulders fell, and the way his worried anger retreated behind a veil of sadness and regret in green eyes, you knew he’d still caught the silent addition to your sentence in your slightly narrowed eyes. 

“Oh…” Was all he managed to push out as he dug his hands into his suit pockets. Fidgeting in front of you in the same way Lucas always did whenever you caught him doing something naughty. 

Like father, like son. 

“Yeah,” You sighed, keeping back the many words you wanted to say as you threw a wary glance over to where Tara and the boys had just reached the next house. Though Dean’s next words forced your eyes back on him. 

“I missed you…” He started, before a quick shake of your head stopped him from continuing. 

“Dean… It was your choice,” You shot back, a small grimace of pain following your words as you remembered that fateful night when Dean Winchester broke your heart. For your own good, he’d said. But it had been anything but. 

You’d loved him, with every damn cell in your body. Hell, you still did. But according to him, six years ago, the two of you had been a liability. You were a weak spot he couldn’t protect. And that scared him. Enough to let you go. Even when you begged him not to.

“I know, and I’ve been regretting it ever since,” Dean broke through your trip down memory lane as he reached out to you in that achingly familiar way he’s done so many times before, to brush some stray hairs out of your eyes. Yet, before those slightly calloused fingers could reach you and burn against your skin, you sidestepped him and crossed your arms. Hugging yourself close as you suddenly felt very underdressed in your Wonder Woman costume. 

“It’s too late for regrets,” You whispered, unable and unwilling to meet his eyes as you instead looked around at the crowds or trick or treaters. More specifically their parents, your neighbors. Many of whom were looking your way. Or more like Dean’s way. Since his FBI outfit stood out among the costumes. 

“I…” Dean started, but you simply shook your head before cutting off whatever he was trying to say.

“Why are you here? Is there a… Anything I should be wary of?” You hesitated over your words. Keeping them vague enough to not arouse the suspicion or attention of one of your nosier neighbors as you felt your muscles tense. Still strong and lithe enough, even six years after your retirement. As you refused to rest on your laurels and kept up your training. Just in case your past caught up to you. If only to protect Lucas. 

“No,” Dean said as you eyed him warily. Not buying the single syllable answer. 

“I promise, there’s nothing here. We’re just looking for someone living nearby who can help us out on a… Case,” He explained, keeping his words equally vague as he let his eyes travel across the crowds that were all inexplicably slowing down when they got close to where the two of you were standing. Looking for the latest piece of juicy cul de sac gossip most likely.

“Alright, that’s good,” You said, a relieved sigh leaving you as your tense shoulders relaxed. Lucas was still safe. You both were. Which was all that mattered. It was all that could matter. Dean couldn’t. Not anymore.

“(Y/N)...” Dean tried. Though you knew what he wanted to say. And you couldn’t have that conversation. Not in the middle of the street with Mr. Brown, your neighborhood gossip, dressed as Frankenstein casting not-so-hidden curious glances in your direction. 

“Look Dean. I’ve gotta go,” You rushed out, avoiding his pleading eyes as you busied yourself with fixing the already perfect whip of truth replica on your hip.

“But…” Dean kept pushing, his hand once more reaching out for you, as if to stop you from slipping through his fingers. 

Yet, before he could continue, or you could think up any excuse, an excited little voice loudly called out to you from your right. A small little streak of black and yellow wobbling up towards you with one hand lifted high in victory. 

“Mommy! Look! They gave me a big chocolate!”

As you refocused your attention towards your little superhero, you barely caught how Dean’s eyes opened wide as they went from you over to the little Batman hurrying up towards you as fast as his little feet could carry him. Cringing internally, you still pretended you didn’t notice the look he threw you as you instead kept your eyes on Lucas.

“Is he…” Dean started, but you missed the question as you wiped the heartbreak from your eyes and focused your attention back on your son. Dropping down to his level, you let him run into your arms waving the chocolate bar in his little hand. 

“Wow! That’s great, pumpkin! Did you say thank you?” You said, adding a layer of fake cheer into your voice as you squeezed your little treasure closer.

“I did! And I said Trick or Treat too!” Lucas said as he wiggled slightly out of your arms without actually leaving the hug to look up at you with a proud beaming smile. Clearly wanting to show you how he was a big boy now. 

“You did great! Such a big boy!” You praised as you ruffled the little nest of messy dark blonde hair on top of his head. 

“Hey there Batman,” Next to you Dean had also crouched down to be at Lucas’ height as he shot him a small smile. Before looking over at you out of the corner of his eyes, making you freeze up as you held your son closer. 

“Who are you?” Lucas asked, suddenly shy as he half hid behind you, still clutching the chocolate bar in his small hand.  

“I’m a friend of your mother’s,” Dean said with a soft smile as he looked down at the full bucket of halloween treats. His eyes wide in admiration, though you could still see the hint of heartbreak and loss behind those green orbs as he clearly came to the wrong conclusion regarding your son. Imagining another man where there wasn’t one, and probably never would be. Yet he didn’t let it show to Lucas as he beamed at him. “Wow! You’ve gotten loads today, haven’t you?”

“Yeah! Mommy taught me how!” Lucas said proudly as he wiggled fully out of your arms now that he knew the man wasn’t one of the scary strangers you’d cautioned him of. Gingerly putting down his bucket, Lucas lifted his mask to properly take in his haul and show his new friend all his treats. 

Without the mask, there was no denying whose son he was. And as recognition flashed in Dean’s eyes, you knew he hadn’t missed the similarities between your child and him as he looked back up at you. An endless amount of questions painting his green eyes a deeper shade as he looked between Lucas and you. 

Wetting dry lips, you took a shaky breath as you gave Lucas a strained smile. Avoiding Dean’s eyes as you focused all your attention on your little superhero instead. 

“Mommy still needs to talk to her friend. Why don’t you go with Aunty Tara to the next house, alright Batman?” You finally managed to push out as you gently fixed your son’s mask and tried to soften the edges of your smile as you gave him a little nod towards where Tara was waiting when he seemed to hesitate.

“Will you come soon too Mommy?” He asked, his young little voice seeming a little dejected as he looked from his candy haul and up at you. 

“I will baby,” You softened as you placed a feather light kiss on his crown of messy hair.

“Promise?” The mini Batman asked as he set those big green puppy eyes in you. Eyes you could never resist. From neither of the two men to either side of you. 

“Pinky promise,” You swore, crossing your heart before stretching out your pinky and linking it with your son’s.

Giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek, Lucas finally seemed happy with your answer as he grabbed his little pumpkin shaped bucket again as hurried back over to Robbie and Tara while loudly telling them both that “mommy said she’s coming soon”. 

For a second, Dean stayed silent next to you as you both got up from where you’d been crouched to speak to Lucas. The sounds of children’s laughter and hushed conversations between nosy neighbors filled the space between the two of you as you looked for a place to have the conversation you’d never thought you’d actually have to have. But as Dean grabbed your wrist, you were left stuck in place in the middle of the busy sidewalk. 

“Is he…” Dean started, not letting you move away from the crowd before he asked the question that had been shining out behind green eyes since he put two and two together. 

“Let’s go somewhere else…” You hesitated, throwing cautious glances at the crowds around you. Though most of them had seemingly grown bored of your conversation once they realized nothing juicy was being said.

“Is he my son (Y/N)?” Dean insisted, though he kept his voice low and his words barely a whisper. Keeping them between just the two of you. 

“... Dean,” You sighed, still not meeting his eyes as you looked around you. Making sure no one had heard his question. But Dean didn’t let you shift the topic as he shook his head and kept his hand circled securely around your wrist. 

“(Y/N), please,” He nearly begged, squeezing your wrist softly to make you look up at him. The fractured light hitting green eyes nearly took your breath away as you saw the desperate need to know shining back at you.

“Yes. He…” Swallowing heavily you took a shaky breath, before once more looking down the street to find your little Batman in the crowds together with Tara. 

“Lucas is your son,” You finally continued as you found him. Happily talking Tara’s ear off like the little ladies’ man he was. 

“Lucas,” Dean said carefully. Rolling the name around on his tongue as he followed your gaze down to look, awestruck, at his son. 

“Yeah, he’s just turned five not long ago,” You added with a soft smile. Remembering the late September birthday party. Which, no surprise, had been fully Batman themed. Just like everything had been lately. 

“Five… Not long ago?” Dean questioned. Brows furrowed as he did the mental math. Counting backwards to the cold January night when he broke your heart. 

“I found out I was pregnant shortly after you told me to leave,” Your words came out a bit more bitter than you meant for them to be. The sour taste of heartbreak still made it hard to sweeten the words.

“I never told you to leave,” Dean shot in, arguing semantics as his hand tightened slightly around the wrist he was still holding onto. Tugging your hand gently towards you, you shook your head at him when he still refused to let go. Biting back a bitter laugh and unwanted tears as you took a shaky breath. 

“You told me we’d never work out. Did you really think I’d stick around after that?” You whispered, still managing to keep your voice low, though your emotions were causing havoc within your chest. Making it hard to even hear your own barely even there words.

“I just wanted you to be safe! You kept…” Dean’s voice was loud enough to draw a few more curious glances  as you shot him a wide eyed, panicked look before shaking your head imperceptibly. Wordlessly reminding him to be quiet. Taking a deep breath, Dean shot your nosy neighbors a shaky smile before leaning in closer and lowering his voice.

“Look, I know I fucked up. But, even if I did, how could you not tell me I had a son?” His whispered voice muted the incredulity and slight sadness at the betrayal in his tone, but it was still painfully clear to you as you grimaced. You knew you should’ve told him. But your wounds had just been so damn fresh. So instead you’d relied on excuses. The same you leaned on as you finally looked back up to meet his green eyes.

“I tried… Your number was disconnected. The only number I had for you. And… Hell, I just didn’t want to hurt anymore,” You sighed. Some of the truth slipping out together with your practiced excuse from nearly six years ago. 

“It was? Shit… Damn it. I lost a phone during a hunt. And I would’ve done anything to have you back (Y/N). There’s no way I would’ve hurt you. Not when every day without you was hell. Still, you could’ve called Sammy. Or just driven up to the bunker. Or…” Dean was ranting as his hand finally slipped from your wrist to card through his hair in frustration. Though, from the way his eyes fell to the forgotten badge in his own hand, you knew he was mainly blaming himself as he cut off his words with a tired sigh. 

“Maybe I could have, but I just… Fuck. I just couldn’t. You hurt me and..” Cutting yourself off with a shake of your head you wrapped your arms back around yourself as if to protect your barely patched up heart and wet dry lips. Before squeezing your eyes shut, in a foolish effort to shut the world out. 

For a few seconds, you let the silence settle between you as you tried to find the words. Knowing Dean was doing the same in front of you. Though you couldn’t see him as you kept your eyes closed and let the bright dots floating in your cut off vision hypnotize you believing none of it had happened. That you were still just next to your son. Not being confronted with the ghosts of your own messy past. 

“Look Dean… I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not while I’m dressed as fucking Wonder Woman,” You finally said with a tired shrug of your shoulders as you finally opened your eyes and met Dean’s head on. You knew you couldn’t hide from your past anymore. Not when it had come nearly all the way to your front porch. But Lucas was waiting for you, and you needed privacy for the long overdue conversation with Dean. Something that was in short supply on the small cul de sac. 

“You look good in that…” Dean cut in, a small hint of his boyish grin and that trademark charm as he took you in, as if for the first time while you rolled your eyes at him. Though his attempt at lightening the mood still fell flat when weighed up against the heavy weight in your stomach from the many broken pieces of your heart that had dislodged from seeing him again. 

“I know I do. But that’s not the point. I can’t. Not now,”  You still let a small smile slip before you shook it, and the nostalgic emotions it was painted in, away and replaced them with tired resignation. As your own small smile that had temporarily brightened Dean’s fell away, so did his. Though his green eyes had softened slightly as he seemed to resign himself to not having all his questions answered by interrogating you on the sidewalk of your own street. 

“Just tell me one thing. Are you happy? Is Lucas happy?” Dean’s quiet voice asked after a beat or two of silence. His eyes slightly shrouded by enviably thick lashes as he kept them downcast and focused on the polished shoes of his FBI outfit. His words made you look towards the houses again, easily spotting your little man a few homes down as you smiled and waved in his direction where he was busy waving your way.

“We are and he is. We have a good life here. A safe home. He’s the smartest little boy ever. Just like his dad,” You finally said as you let your hand drop. Glancing Dean’s way, you caught him looking towards Lucas as well. His eyes watching the small boy wistfully as he once more stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

Wetting his lips, Dean seemed to hesitate for a second as he opened and closed his mouth wordlessly before finally tearing his eyes off of the son he hadn’t known he had to look at you instead. 

“Can I… Is it alright if I see him again? See you again?”

For a second, you hesitated. Your heart was stuck in your throat as you mulled over your answer. Thinking up and throwing away a million what ifs and reasons not to. But in the end, your heart won the battle. You could never forget Dean Winchester. And, no matter how he felt about you, and you about him, Lucas was his son. He deserved the chance to get to know the coolest kid you knew. 

“... Bring Sam over after 7 pm tonight. Bring candy. And change out of those stuffy suits. We’ll… Talk over dinner,” You finally sighed, losing the battle with your heart as you hesitated over every word, even as you’d made up your mind to invite him over and already started planning the night’s dinner in your head now that you’d have two more mouths to feed. 

“Yeah? Alright, yeah… Ok. Seven.  I’ll be there,” Dean was already walking backwards away from you, looking slightly hopeful and clearly itching to fill his little brother in to let Sam know he was an uncle. That bright boyish spark that you’d fallen in love with many years ago back in green eyes as he smiled cautiously at you. A slightly crooked smile that slowly grew warmer as your words sank in. 

Throwing you a little wave, he turned around, ready to hurry back to his brother and call off the search so he could go raid some stores for candy and change. Yet, before he could take another step, your exasperated laughter made him stop as you rolled your eyes at his broad back. 

“Dean!” You called out after him, a raised eyebrow paired with a small knowing smirk as you watched him turn around to look at you. HIs green eyes wide and looking more than a little frazzled as you melted at the sight of the gorgeous man you’d fallen in love with many years ago. The man you never stopped loving. Even if he broke your heart.  

“You need to know where I live first,” You called out to him. No longer caring about nosy neighbors as you warmed your words with a small laugh that only grew louder as the ‘FBI agent’ stumbled over his own feet in his hurry to come back over to you. 

“I’m just down the street, look for the white house with the green door. Down there,” You said, pointing in the direction of your small home. Next to you, Dean leaned in to see things from your viewpoint, carefully following your pointer finger as you felt your temperature rise from his proximity. Swallowing the cotton mouthed feeling, you found your lost voice between one heartbeat and the next as you let your hand fall and took a step back away from him to relearn how to breathe again. 

“7 pm,” You repeated. 

“7 pm,” He confirmed. 

Before quickly throwing you another small, hopeful smile. And hurrying away with a mumbled promise of talking later and bringing candy. 

As he walked down the street, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. You couldn’t help the soft smile that played on your lips. Though you didn’t know what would come from it. You couldn't help but feel slightly happy that he’d ran into you. 

Like your own special Halloween treat. One that definitely didn’t fit into Lucas’ plastic pumpkin bucket. 

And though only time would tell what would happen. You couldn’t wait to introduce the two bravest men you knew to the bravest, smartest little boy you knew. Casting one last glance at Dean, you quickly hurried after Tara and the boys. 

Now you had another reason to make sure Batman and you were back home before the sun fully set. At a distance, you swore you could hear Dean’s excited voice as you smiled to yourself. 

“SAMMY! You’ll never guess…”

Dean Winchester Tags: @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @siospins2 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester 

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27  @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sea040561 @donnaintx @alwaysdreamingforthebest  @thatmotleygirl @chocolateheart @superfanficnatural @flamencodiva @starryeyeseunbyul @waywardbeanie @supernaturalenchanted @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @the-lost-wanderer-of-the-night @strangersstranger @tatted-trina6 @jensengirl83 @whatareyousearchingfordean @jackandthesoulmates  @gh0stgurl @samsgirl93 @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @dainrumnaheim @440mxs-wife

[talesoftheunimagined]

[Mistaken Identity] Chapter 1

Rating: General

Fandom: Good Omens (Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett)

Relationships: Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Love, Georgian Era

Summary:

The year is 1797. King George has just gotten over a bout of illness and a member of the English royal family had just gotten married to a Duchess of Holland, so why not throw a masquerade ball to celebrate the occasion and invite all the noblemen and women of The United Kingdom and surrounding areas?

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the ball. Crowley, though, mistakes some identities.

Chapter 2 is now up! Here

😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈

ENGLAND 1797

Candlelight flickered over segments of intricate and boundless tiling, almost making it twinkle beneath the frilled edges of gowns and waltzing heeled shoes, lavishly gilded marble pillars adorned with various flowers joined the flooring to gilded balconies and up again to a florally carved and a gloriously painted plaster ceiling that supported the vast weight of what could well have been solid gold chandeliers that gleamed dully next to the candles that burnt in their arms amongst an abundance of crystal and diamond. Portraits of members of the English aristocracy adorned the walls and appeared with colorful landscapes and shining bright frames of bowls of fruits; apples, grapes, and bananas. A light summer breeze blew in through open windows which divulged any passers-by of the grandeur that the ballroom's event held.

Indeed. That night, at its very core, would be defined by the words grandeur and affluent.

George William Frederick, otherwise known as Mad King George in this modern day and had thrown a masquerade ball after marriage in the family and recovery a long bout of illness (although, his absence at the ball had arisen suspicions of deceit).

"I just absolutely knew that I'd see you here."

"Oh, 'course. Wouldn't miss something like this." He looked at is companion briefly.

Two men stood by a pillar. One clad in deep wine knickerbockers, white high socks and a matching wine tailcoat with shiny new obsidian buttons the colour of crows down; had his hair in neat copper rolls fastened just above his ears and a low ponytail fastened with a black ribbon hung over the back of his collar. Over his face, he wore a finely crafted mask of mahogany red. Gold rimmed the dramatically flicked eye holes that were shaded with black glass so that his eyes weren't visible. Two golden snakes seemed to search curiously for his eyes at the sides of the mask that was tied neatly with a black lace bow. The other was dressed quite similarly, except his knickerbockers were a nice magnolia that matched his hair and he wore a waistcoat of sky blue. He wore his hair naturally short and took pride in the sheen of his polished and buckled shoes in the candlelight. His mask was made of white porcelain rimmed with thick silver swirls and ornate curves. Blue gems nestled themselves amongst the curls and caught the light in a way that looked almost like a halo at the top of his mask. It wasn't quite clear how he kept such a mask from falling off of his face without a fastening, but he was doing it.

Aziraphale took a small sip from his glass (he was drinking honey spirits) and smiled at his surroundings and the people. Maybe even at nothing in particular. He was just happy to be in the presence of fine people, fine food and Crowley. His eyes creased at the sides and his cheeks glowed. It had been the first time since Paris 1793 that the pair had seen each other.

"It's really rather lovely, isn't it? All these people here, together. Having a wonderful time." The music swelled

"Yesss, well," Crowley mused. "with all that going on out in France, they all need it." The corners of his mouth turned down, but he wasn't frowning, or upset. It was just a Crowley thing.

The pair of them spotted a young woman bashfully approaching Crowley from across the other side of the room amidst the flurry of dress fabric and petticoats. She was wearing a swan mask, made of the same porcelain is Aziraphale's. She had a pretty face, her deep blue eyes peered out of her mask with shy curiosity and her dark hair was the nest for a large swan feather.

"Excuse me for being so bold, Count Crowley, but if you aren't occupied at the moment, I was wondering if you would like to dance?" Crowley turned to Aziraphale ever so slightly. "With...me." She clarified although both men (well, men shaped ethereal and occult beings) knew what she meant. Crowley accepted the invitation. It wouldn't do any harm to do some tempting tonight.

"I suppose I'll see you later then, eh?" He shot a small smirk at Aziraphale before disappearing into the sea of expensive fabrics leaving Aziraphale alone with his drink.

The angel watched with content at the couples that swirled and waltzed and box stepped. It wasn't long before he himself was asked to dance by a young woman. He smiled, asked a butler to kindly hold his drink, adjusted his waistcoat and set off to dance under the twinkling candles.

The night was still young.

[thatdammchickennugget]

BLAISE ZABINI - RED

♢ Blaise finds a deep connection with the emotional complexity of Taylor's Red era. Just as Taylor explores the multifaceted nature of love and heartbreak in her album, Blaise navigates the intricate web of emotions in his own romantic endeavors. He understands that love isn't always black and white; it's filled with shades of passion, longing, and uncertainty.

♢ Blaise's romantic life mirrors the dramatic love affairs depicted in Red. He's no stranger to whirlwind romances and passionate entanglements, often finding himself swept up in the intensity of fleeting connections. Like the tumultuous relationships Taylor sings about, Blaise's love life is filled with highs and lows, heartache and longing, leaving him constantly searching for that elusive sense of fulfillment.

♢ Blaise embraces the sartorial sophistication of the Red era. Much like Taylor's iconic red dresses and glamorous stage outfits, Blaise exudes confidence and style in his impeccable fashion choices. He understands the power of presentation and uses his wardrobe to convey his magnetic charm and allure, drawing others in with his effortless elegance and timeless appeal.

♢ Blaise resonates with Taylor's exploration of heartbreak and resilience in the Red era. Like Taylor, he's faced his fair share of romantic disappointments and setbacks, but he refuses to let them define him. Instead, he channels his emotions into his personal growth, emerging stronger and more resilient with each experience. Blaise understands that heartbreak is a part of life, but it's how you rise from the ashes that truly defines you.

♢ Blaise has a penchant for epic romantic gestures, mirroring the grand romantic gestures depicted in Red. Whether it's whisking his partner away on a spontaneous weekend getaway or orchestrating a lavish surprise party, Blaise spares no expense in expressing his love and devotion. He believes in sweeping gestures and grand declarations of affection.

[alpydk]

The Circling Sky (Part 7)

Time for another dose of angst - I did warn this was not a happy story from the start...

Her dismissal bothered him a little. It reminded him oddly of his meeting with Elminster and Tav’s attempts to cheer him up. They’d tried for hours after the stabilisation of the orb to discuss it with him, to make him see reason about Mystra’s request and yet he’d pushed them aside, deep in his own thoughts and his mind made up over what he had been told to do. Something that he had been prepared to do for a long while. Is this how Tav had felt? Helpless? Lost?

Ao3 Link

Gale woke the next morning alone, the sheets next to him now creased and cold as he reached his arm over them in search of the company he had shared with the night before. Had the night been that bad that Lissa could not stand to be around him or had her father dictated a command to her that she had to obey? He rose from the bed, pushing away his wild locks of hair, before getting dressed and going in search of her.

She sat at a table outside, seemingly lost in thought as he found her. The air was cool and crisp; a soft dew settled over the surfaces. He approached, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder only to pull back as she flinched at his grasp. “Sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no. You didn’t.” She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the pleasant tones of her voice.

“Is everything alright? You seem a little more subdued than I would have expected.” He sat down beside her and noticed as the familiar tapping of her fingers began.

“I’m fine. A little tired after you kept me up last night.” A small smile but without the following brightness of her eyes that he had learnt to recognise.

He placed his hand over hers and gave it a soft squeeze. “Lissa... If you regret last night, then so be it, but you need not hide it from me. I’m an adult and can accept a little heartbreak more than most.”

Lissa looked away from him considering the words he had said. He watched as she sighed deeply and he prepared himself for the comments that would follow, that maybe he had not been good enough after his long pause, or maybe she had just decided that it was a quick fling, and she wasn’t as interested as he’d initially believed her to be.

“Gale... it’s not that, it’s-”

Her voice was cut off by the shout of the innkeeper. “Is there a cleric about!?”

***

Lissa stood at the entrance to the small room, her father’s body lying on the bed in front of her.

“Dead for some hours, I’d say.” “Booze probably. He was drinking quite a lot on the trip.” “Could have been his heart, he was moaning about it a bit yesterday.” “You’d think ‘is daughter would’ve noticed.” “Yeah, but she’s been flirting with that wizard, ain’t she.” “Well, wouldn’t you? He’s not ‘alf bad.” “Wait, isn’t that...?”

She ignored the gossip of the travellers who’d spent the journey falling for Viktor’s charms. All she could do was focus on the corpse that lay a short distance from her. She’d always thought of this moment, of some dramatic breakdown, sobbing into the arms of someone or crying to the gods, and yet, here, now, it was only confusion. She felt sick, happy, numb. She longed for her mind to focus on one sensation alone, but it jumped from memory to memory, to his body lifeless in front of her. His colour was different, unnaturally pale, almost grey in the light; she didn’t recognise him and yet did at the same time. This man, her father, dead.

She looked at the floor, the walls, the bedsheet, anything to get her mind to start working, to start processing. She felt Gale’s soft hand lightly touch her own, a form of comfort in these moments, or at least it would have been comforting if she was feeling the overwhelming sadness she had expected. “I need something to eat.” The food she would cope with; food was an acceptable response right now, wasn’t it?

***

She sat with the small plate of bread picking at it, Gale watching her every move, waiting for the breakdown that was to come. “I’m fine, really,” she said, not making eye contact with him.

He sighed at her words. “Lissa, it’s quite acceptable to be upset at this time. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Tap, tap, tap, the fingers under the table. “Ah, it’s fine. This is what I wanted after all.” She lifted her head with a smile and a distant look in her eyes. “We’ll just transport him to Baldur’s Gate as planned and cremate him there, I suppose. It’ll be just like when he was passed out, only cheaper...” Her mind pulled in opposite directions, guilt already plaguing her about her choice of words, but the anger driving her forward. Where was the freedom she was promised? What were all these new feelings she had not been warned of?

“You know that’s not possible, my dear. To transport him.” She heard the seriousness of his tone, the way he was trying to provide solace but also meaning in his words. Her father would have to be buried close by before his body inevitably broke down; another inconvenience given to her from beyond the grave.

Lissa nodded at his words. “Then I guess we should get started.”

“Do you not need time? This is a lot to be dealing with.”

“No, it needs to be done and I don’t want to hold up the caravan because of him.” She was already starting to move to get things prepared, her body going into autopilot and approaching the innkeeper to ask for details; Who could she pay? Where would it happen? This was much easier to focus on than the hard truth of the matter. He had died, and it was all her fault.

***

Gale watched from the table as she discussed her options with the innkeeper, handing over a small locket from around her neck, another memory given away in payment for her father’s needs. He stood to offer his own services, but as he approached, she turned to him. “I’ve dealt with it all. I can manage this. Why don’t you just go and pack.”

Her dismissal bothered him a little. It reminded him oddly of his meeting with Elminster and Tav’s attempts to cheer him up. They’d tried for hours after the stabilisation of the orb to discuss it with him, to make him see reason about Mystra’s request and yet he’d pushed them aside, deep in his own thoughts and his mind made up over what he had been told to do. Something that he had been prepared to do for a long while. Is this how Tav had felt? Helpless? Lost?

He went to his room and began to arrange his belongings. She’d yet to shed a tear or even react to what had happened. He briefly wished he had access to the tadpole to be able to hear the constant thoughts undoubtedly racing through her head, but what good would that do if he couldn’t understand them? He straightened out the bedsheets, last night’s events now a distant memory.

***

Viktor was buried in a shallow grave a short distance from the inn, a small wooden stick marking the location, Lissa wanting to waste little time in the area. Her logic was that they were holding up the rest of the travellers and she could not afford to do that. The last of the dirt settled over the corpse and still the tears would not come as she wanted. This should have been the moment to say goodbye, to let the grief flow and yet it didn’t. She just wanted to keep moving, to keep busy and process everything. She felt as Gale stood with an arm around her, waiting for the moment of mourning to begin.

She had no flowers, no words of love, of life, of how much she would miss her father. She had nothing. At least that part he had been consistent with when it came to his death. She turned from the spot, flattening down her shirt. “I guess, it’s time we got moving.”

Gale gripped her wrist as she began, stopping her from leaving. “Do you not want to say a few words? Have a moment alone with him perhaps?”

“I’d rather we continued where we left off last night if anything.” She leaned up at him, a playful smile on her face, but an uneasiness in the way she looked at him; Anything to keep going, to stop thinking.

“Lissa-"

“Don’t Lissa me. Look, we’ve got one week of travel left. Or well...” She thought back to the reason she was even on this journey. It had all been for him, her father looking for his escape. Well, he had found it, but now she had no reason to be where she was, on the route to Baldur’s Gate. “I suppose you have one week left. I need to figure out what I’m doing.”

Gale released his grip on her. “Continue with me. If I’m quite honest with you, I don’t really want to entertain the thought of leaving you alone at this time.”

She gave him a smile. “Let’s go then.”

***

The cart rocked and Lissa rested her body into Gale’s arm, his warmth a welcome change from the distance they’d had to hold when her father had been there. Her mind kept hopping between the night and the morning, two very different events but both bringing equal discomfort that she wanted to ignore; Gale’s hands controlling her body, her father’s death controlling her emotions.

Gale had said very little to her since they had left the inn, most likely unsure of what to say. You can’t show sympathy to someone pretending everything is okay. You can’t wipe away the tears that won’t come. He’d still stayed by her side though, waiting and watching. That was enough. That was something she wanted.

She reached for a journal in her pack and started scribbling notes, inspiration as always striking when she was at her worst. Small poems reflecting abuse, others about hope, but all a similar theme of her life. Today’s notes, her father.

Gale watched over her shoulder as she wrote a few words and then scratched them out with the pencil. “Poems of your own making, I see.”

She chuckled. “Poems are a far cry from what these are. Nothing worth reading or trying to understand.”

“I doubt that my dear. Even the worst poetry is an attempt to express meaning and emotion. Tanil’s poem on clouds was not well received but it still conveyed the longing for freedom.” Gale, yet again conveyed the beauty in the world around him and for a moment Lissa was a little jealous of his optimism. “What is it that you are trying to write? Maybe I could be of assistance.”

She hesitated for a moment. In her life, nothing had truly been hers, her money, her body. The poetry, as questionable as it was had always belonged to her, and to share it with another, to have them edit it or offer advice felt wrong. “I’d rather only share when it’s finished if that’s okay.”

“Of course, but I am here for you. For anything you might require.”

***

Gale saw the words flow, get erased, the tapping of the pencil on her knee, but as requested he offered no advice, simply waiting until she was ready to share. The day had turned to evening and each person had retired to their tents. He’d asked if she needed company only to have been rejected and he tried to figure out what he had done wrong, why she kept pushing him away.

He retraced his steps back to their night together trying to pinpoint the moment things had changed and yet nothing would stand out. She had been willing; she had seemed to have enjoyed herself; the small moment of uncertainty was probably just one of nerves. Maybe something had happened during the night that he was unaware of, but now was not the time to ask.

He lay in his tent, his body growing heavy with sleep when he felt the touch of a hand running up his inner thigh. He opened his eyes seeing Lissa, her shirt loose, leaning over him. 

“Shh.” She whispered to him, her hand tracing the laces of his trousers.

He rested his head back down letting her hands dance, his body reacting instinctively as she touched, the pressure building as she rubbed the leather and his erection beneath. His earlier doubts were silenced as he felt himself grow against her touch. He glanced over at her, the creeping smile she held on her face, the pink flush of her cheeks, the cold look of her eyes. He gripped down, holding her wrist. “Stop, stop,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him confused. “But isn’t this what you want?”

“No, not like this.” Though he wanted to focus on her, his mind drifted back to Astarion, the same emotionless gaze he’d shown whenever they’d spoken of intimacy. “Lissa, I can see it in your eyes; something is wrong.”

Lissa pulled her hand back, looking away from him and trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions. It would have been so much easier to just bury them and lose herself in him.

“My dear, we both know this is not what you want.” He rolled a little making room next to him on the bedroll and opened his arms for her to join him. “Just come here, please.”

Gale watched as she stared at the tent entrance, almost considering if leaving would be the easier path before eventually choosing to settle into his arms, the silent tears dampening his shirt. In quiet breaths, she spoke. “It all just hurts...it hurts so much.”

He had no words to support her, no understanding of anything she was going through or had been through. He could only do the one thing he knew how to; he held her close and listened, as Tav had done with him all those moons ago.

[hwauroras]

THROUGH THE INFINITE CANVASES OF YOU. (제2장)

pic sources in order left -> right: pinterest, pinterest, pinterest

wc ≈2.6k. unedited. painter!seonghwa x artstudent!reader (ft. musician!san, artstudent!wooyoung and artstudent!rockstar!hongjoong). written in two different perspectives - third person for seonghwa and second person for the reader. no massive genre yet - but the story does develop a little more. hongjoong is introduced as wooyoung's friend. hongjoong jokingly flirts with the reader. hongjoong calls the reader "sweetheart". hongjoong and the reader mildly curse.

“hyung.. this is beautiful.”

“you think?”

“absolutely!”

seonghwa and san stood side by side in the art studio, their eyes fixed on the finished piece that would become the cover art for san’s new album. the canvas displayed an absolutely breathtaking combination of colors, and the raw emotions from the soul seemed to leap off the surface. to say it was capturing and alluring would be a total understatement. it was the perfect combination of paint, love, passion and longing - a true window into both artists’ souls.

san’s eyes glimmered with awe as he took in and absorbed every detail. the painting depicted seonghwa’s elusive muse with hauntingly expressive eyes, ones full of love and fear and yearning, painted with a delicate and carefully crafted mix of blues, purples, and hints of gold. behind them was a whirlwind of vibrant, dramatic and contrasting hues, capturing both the intensity of emotions that san poured into his music, and the conflict of emotions seonghwa fought within.

they both continued to stand in silence, letting the artwork speak for itself. the whole room seemed to hold its breath, even the dust particles seemed to stop in time - as if in complete deference for the deep, profound connection between music and its visual counterpart.

san finally broke the silence, and time seemed to flow again.

“i mean - seriously, seonghwa. this is more than i could have ever imagined. i would be lying if i said i was surprised though - only you could pull this off.”

seonghwa smiled humbly, a soft pink blush creeping back onto his cheeks.

“you’re too kind, san. and i want you to know that - it has been an honor collaborating with you. my only regret is not doing it sooner.”

with a chuckle, san lightly punched seonghwa on the shoulder.

“then may this be the first of many.”

“... hey san?”

“mm?”

seonghwa took a deep breath.

“i listened to a bit of the title track. you know, just so i knew how to put your own voice, your own words, your own emotions, into visual form. and i’m just curious…what inspired you?”

san’s smile softened as he averted his gaze, eventually opting to close his eyes and take a moment to relive the melody before answering seonghwa’s question.

“what inspired me? well… it's a mix of things, really."

“you don’t have to tell me.”

"no, it’s okay. honestly, the entire album, is a reflection of my whole life journey. it's about the highs and the lows, the love and the heartbreaks, the gains and the losses, and the constant search of meaning and purpose. each song represents a different chapter of my life. except for one.”

“that’s beautiful, sa- sorry, except for one?”

san meekly looked back at the painting, his eyes tracing the careful, delicate strokes and vivid colors that bounced back at him.

“yeah. the title track you mentioned. i wrote and sang it for you. well, more so how i think you feel about the person you keep painting.”

seonghwa’s eyes widened in surprise, his head snapping to look at the other with complete awe. his heart began to race, and his hand quickly flew to his chest. the room returned to its original silence - one that seemed to go even deeper as san’s words sank in. the humble painter was completely taken aback as he struggling to find the right words to such a jarring reply.

"f-for me?" seonghwa finally managed to splutter, something san smiled warmly at.

“yeah. for you. and that person. i mean... even though i said i wasn’t able to understand you, anyone can still see the true love and longing you have etched into your features. you’re not able to see the way you look at them whenever you bring them to life through your passion of art. and that's what inspired the song. it’s my own personal perception of your own personal emotions."

seonghwa stood there, still stunned by what he had just heard. the thoughts and emotions that had been buried deep within him, the ones he thought he had concealed and hidden away from the rest of the world, had just escaped san’s lips in word form.

"i… never expected you to see it," seonghwa murmured, his face now tinted pink. "you know me. i’m not an emotional person. i thought i was good at hiding my feelings."

san laughed and shook his head.

“hey, hyung, listen. i do know you, and you’re right - but also incredibly wrong. while you may be good at hiding your emotions from others, you can’t hide them from me. and when it comes down to your art, your mystery person, you can’t hide them from anyone. the vibe is beautiful, at times bittersweet - so in a sense, hyung, you and your muse have become my muses.”

the revelation that san’s title track was inspired by seonghwa and his emotions left the studio enveloped in yet another silence - this time one of profoundness and comfort. it simply became a moment between two artists and an enthralling muse.

"san," seonghwa finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “thank you for understanding me in a way that no one else ever has. and… thank you for giving my thoughts and my muse a voice."

“hey, you don't have to thank me. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

“and through the pages of time, i’ll still search every space, and through the darkness of shadows, i’ll still chase every trace, and though you maybe may be a love undefined, i’ll give to you this promise, ‘til our destinies can entwine…

~

“through the realms of dreams, i’ll journey far, for the love that's written in every star, with every heartbeat, i’ll stay true, until the day, the day i finally find you.”

“oh my god, wooyoung…”

you gawked at your best friend, who grinned at your reaction.

“so? what do you think?”

“i think it’s amazing. you really wrote that?”

“yeah.”

you shook your head at him, the rest of your body paralyzed in its place.

“dude, you have to take that to a recording studio or something.”

“hah, you really think so?" wooyoung replied with a playful smirk, trying to hide the genuine feelings of relief he felt at your positive response.

they were inspired by your love for your muse, after all.

but of course, he could never tell you that. not when you were already deeply troubled by the unfulfilled feelings of love and longing you had for him. he figured if you were to know, you would figure it out in your own.

“maybe i should consider it - though, i don’t want to put an end to everyone else’s careers.”

you nudged him lightly with your elbow, poking your tongue out at him playfully before letting out a laugh.

"okay, mr humble. if you’re going to be like that, i’ll take it all back. the fame’s already getting to your head and you haven’t even left the room yet.”

feigning the utmost shock and betrayal, wooyoung gasped dramatically and draped an arm over his eyes - which in turn, resulted in probably your biggest eye roll to date.

“oh y/n, you wound me once more! you’re so willing to retract your compliments - were your words merely superficial?”

you couldn't help but laugh loudly, drawing a few curious glances from your classmates. which of course, only resulted in wooyoung laughing loudly at you too.

“okay, okay. come on, wooyoung, you know i’m just kidding," you teased, nudging him again. "but seriously, i think you should at least try and contact a few studios. even if you don’t hear back, it’s worth the effort. you have a true gift for art. it’s beautiful, just like your photography."

as he absorbed your words, wooyoung’s playful demeanor shifted to a warm, gentle one. he looked at you softly, a small smile etched into his features.

“thank you, y/n. all jokes aside, your support means a lot to me. i’ll consider it, i promise.”

returning his smile, you took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. but before either of you could even have the chance to speak again, a scoff caught your attention.

peering over the shoulder of the purple headed boy in front of you, your eyes landed on another student, who you immediately recognized as one of the more recent transfers into the fashion department. you guessed he would roughly be around wooyoung’s height if it weren’t for his shoes, he sported a rather colorful mullet and he was dressed head to toe in a messy array of clothes and accessories.

you arched an eyebrow at him, noticing a glint of amusement in his intense gaze. he looked like he was holding back a laugh, as if he found something amusing about the conversation you were having with your best friend.

"what?" you questioned, eyes narrowing at the unique man.

rather than replying, he shot you a wink before making his way over, seemingly unaffected by your scrutiny.

“nothing," he replied casually, his chunky platforms causing him to tower over wooyoung - something you had to hold back on joking about. “i just couldn't help but overhear the two of you talking about music. and then some sappy shit."

a playful grin tugged at wooyoung’s lips as he sized up the new arrival.

“oh, so you were eavesdropping, huh? you’ve got quite the sharp ear. but i suppose that’s to be expected by such an esteemed musician like yourself.”

you glanced between the two, a puzzled look taking over your once suspicious expression. you were aware of this guy - he was hard to miss - but they seemed to share a camaraderie that you weren't aware of.

“wait, you two know each other?" you blinked, still trying to figure out the dynamic between them.

the vibrant multicolored haired man extended a heavily ringed hand, swiping his pierced tongue along his bottom lip and shooting you another wink.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, sweetheart. the name’s hongjoong. but you could call me yours for tonight, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

you quickly pulled your hand away from his rather tight grasp, a slight blush creeping onto your face.

“uh… nice to meet you too, i guess. but i think i’ll stick to calling you hongjoong."

“yeah,” wooyoung snickered, clearly amused by the interaction. “unfortunately for you, ‘sweetheart’ isn’t really the one for cheesy pickup lines, hyung.”

“oh, i see how it is,” hongjoong chuckled, visibly unfazed by both of your responses. “well, the offer still stands.”

you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this newcomer you now knew was named hongjoong. he certainly had a magnetic personality that demanded everyone’s full attention, but despite his playful demeanor and rather straightforward flirting, there was still an underlying feeling of genuine warmth radiating off of him. wooyoung looked comfortable - and you laughed when hongjoong flicked his forehead.

“you know, i appreciate it, but i’m still gonna pass,” you replied to him. “so how do you guys, you know, know each other?”

“wooyoung and i met when the fashion department and the photography department collaborated on a project last semester. we made the pieces, they took the pictures. then they served as our professional photographers when we had a showcase modelling our creations.”

wooyoung chimed in, his eyes glinting with fondness as he recalled the encounter.

"we were assigned together. honestly, i thought it would be a disaster at first. hongjoong has such a wild and bold sense of style and i’m all about subtle elegance. but somehow, our creative differences ended up complementing each other perfectly - i really got to gain some experience with experimental looks and got to expand my portfolio. it could really help me if i wanna apply for something surrounding haute couture.”

as you listened to wooyoung speak about his collaboration with the uniquely dressed man with a belt made of chained up teddy bears, you couldn't help but admire a rare instance where fire and ice were actually compatible. never in a million years had you thought someone as poised, sophisticated and traditional as wooyoung could come close to being friends with someone as bright, daring and unconventional as hongjoong. but alas - here it was in front of you, a strong friendship between two polar opposites (besides their humor).

“that’s amazing," you said, nodding your head in approval. "i think it’s amazing how two ‘contradicting’ art styles can create one extraordinary art form.”

hongjoong smirked at your words and took a little bow.

“thank you, sweetheart. you bet it was extraordinary. our work had people talking for weeks. did you read the local paper? we got an article and everything. it’s all about pushing boundaries, you know? not just in art, but every aspect of life is more exciting when you dare to step out of your comfort zone and take that risk."

you nodded again in agreement, finding yourself captivated by hongjoong's outlook on life.

“besides,” hongjoong continued matter-of-factly, “the exposure really helped with my music career.”

you tilted your head, eyes darting to wooyoung.

“wait. music career?”

“yep,” wooyoung reaffirmed. “hongjoong’s in an indie rock band.”

you were taken aback, pleasantly surprised by the sudden turn in conversation. though the subject of hongjoong being a musician came up earlier, you weren’t sure how serious wooyoung was being.

"an indie rock band? that’s incredible! why didn’t you say so when you scoffed at us?”

hongjoong shrugged with a nonchalant grin.

“you judged a book by its cover sweetheart. but yeah, now the cat’s out of the bag, we started playing gigs at local venues and have been slowly building our presence in the music scene. now we play at festivals, and shit. you and wooyoung should come along next time. i’d like to see some familiar faces that don’t belong to the groupies trying to get into my pants.”

the more you learned about hongjoong, the more fascinated you became. he was a true artist in every sense of the word, an epitome even, excelling in multiple creative avenues. suddenly it all made sense why his and wooyoung’s friendship worked so well – despite their differences, they were both passionate and unafraid to explore their own personal boundaries.

“you know, that sounds great, i’d love to come to one of your gigs one day. hey, i was just talking to wooyoung about the possibility of him making music. what do you think? genuinely this time, don’t be a smartass.”

“well,” hongjoong’s eyes shifted back to wooyoung as he considered your question. “i didn’t know wooyoung was interested in making his own music, but from what i know about his ethic and from what i heard just before, i don’t doubt he would excel in the industry. tell you what - i’ll speak to the others, maybe we could collaborate on something.”

as soon as hongjoong’s preposition left his lips, a spark of excitement danced in both your and wooyoung’s eyes. the idea of combining their talents seemed like an incredible opportunity to create something special - and your mind began filling with possibilities.

it was apparent that wooyoung thought the same, as he barely managed to get out a faint “are you serious?" - something hongjoong chuckled at.

“of course! i think our styles could create something powerful. i trust your artistic abilities, so let’s give it a shot. but just know, i hold a high standard and i’m going to be tough. i may believe in freedom of expression but i’m still a perfectionist.”

“understood, hyung. i won’t let you down."

~

TAGLIST: @hwalysm, @downbadreading

[rinrinx2]

Heart-shaped headlights

4- Roll up the windows

Hanma x reader

Summary: Hanma besides being a well known delinquent was also known in the car scene for being a street racer, he seems to get every woman's attention but yours.

Warning: Angst, Mature themes, mention of suic!de.

Heart-shaped headlights

Masterlist

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

It had been 9 days, 7 hours, 45 minutes and 15 seconds since he had last seen you. Since he had last seen the girl who had his heart, (Y/N).

Hanma now lied on his bed, eyes starring blankly at the white ceiling as his head filled with images of you. The way you were easily irritated by him and yet allowed him to place the softest kiss his ever given on your lips.

Hanma knew his feelings for you ran deep, as he had never dwelled this long on the thought of a person. Hanma was plagued with the worst illness ever - love.

He hated that it was because of a single emotion that he felt so much dread overwash him. Dread that stemmed from you ignoring him. He wasn't sure why you were ignoring him, he just knew you were.

He had thought that after your shared night at Roppongi that maybe you would open your heart to him, and you nearly did but somewhere along the lines he lost you and he wasn't sure why.

The feeling of coming back, three waters in hand, with the biggest smile on his face only to find you missing.

"Where's (Y/N)-chan?" He asked looking around wondering if you had not walked off somewhere .

"She left Hanma" Kisaki said as he removed his glassed to wipe them clean, giving little reaction to the Hanma's changing expression of happiness to confusion.

"What do you mean she left?" Hanma said as his eyebrows furrowed together, trying piece together your sudden disappearance.

"She's gone Hanma, as in she's left for home"

Hanma felt the confusion slowly drop to sadness at the mention of you ditching him. He wasn't a man whose feelings could easily be hurt and he never thought he'd ever taste heartbreak, but at that moment it was all he could taste in his mouth as he felt little cracks form in his heart.

"Why?" He asked as he felt his throat become dry, so lost in his emotions he had dropped the water bottles he held a moment ago with excitement.

"Hanma do you really know who (Y/N)-chan is?" Kisaki asked finally giving his full attention to the taller man with the sulken expression painted on his face.

Hanma didn't answer, he stood still feeling his heartbeating in his ears. Kisaki sighed at his reaction, never in his life would he have thought that the playboy himself would be so dramatic over a woman. Kisaki took the lack of answer to proceed with what he was saying.

"(L/N)(Y/N) is a girl in the illegal street racing scene, and the person who brought her into that world was (L/N) Daisuke"

Hanma knew that name (L/N) Daisuke, everyone did it was the name of one of the legends in the street racing scene. Even he someone who had join only a few years prior knew the man.

And now he had found out he was your father. Hanma stood there feeling like a fool how didn't he know he was your father you had the same last name, but as he continued his realization he noted that, that was the only thing the two of you had in common besides street racing. You didn't look like you father and you may be hard headed, stubborn and outspoken but you didn't have his larger than life personality that caused many to despise the man.

He really didn't know you...

"A thing or two they may not have mentioned about her father in all the grand stories, is that the man racked up debt and he couldn't pay it off. So before anyone could get to him he killed himself and now she has to pay it all off." Kisaki said placing his glasses back on his face.

"So before you go searching for her think about this, she has to pay her fathers debt off and you Shuji you win nearly every race, the ones worth status and money so wouldn't it be worth it for a girl like her to suddenly play along to your advances now that she's realized she can benefit from you. Think about it Hanma. Think." Kisaki said watching Hanma try to comprehend the information which was just bestowed upon him. He watched as his face dropped of any sadness, watching as the thoughts buzzed in the taller man's head, and all while Kisaki remained starring at him; Hanma could only get one thought articulated in his mind.

He really didn't know you...

Hanma shut his eyes tight trying his best to not have his memories relive him through that night.

He missed you he couldn't deny that, he couldn't deny he missed when you were pissed at him and he especially couldn't deny he missed when you had finally given him your soft smiles that made his heart beat faster than the car he drove.

But he was wary of Kisaki's words, he loved you but he wasn't going to allow you to slip him into a spell just so you could extort him. He wasn't as much as big dumb brute as everyone placed him for.

Hanma sat up from his bed, realizing that in these 9 days he had only left when he was required to race for Valhalla, otherwise he was bound to his rooftop apartment. And as luxurious as his apartment was he felt like a ghost in it. Trapped between the white walls as the thoughts off you once again overtook every inch of his mind.

He was ready to slink back down into bed and allow the thoughts of you to consume him, until the mention of your name would mean nothing to him and he could continue on with his life as if he had never met you. He was content on that ideal situation until he felt his phone buzz.

Someone's selling an old R32 Nissan Skyline GTR first addition model in Shibuya. Check it out.

He read the message that Baji had sent him. Hanma was settling on ignoring the message and going back to the plan of laying back in bed but a budding feeling of need told him to go see the car.

'Maybe getting out would do some good. Maybe I'll see a hot chick' Hanma thought as he tried to convince himself to get up and go to Shibuya.

_______

Hanma had decided against taking his car, as the scent of you still lingered in it even after all this time. So he instead walked, even if Shibuya was a lengthy walk he would rather endure it then have has mind remind him of the way you sat in his passenger's seat smiling up at him.

The sunny afternoon and the refreshing breeze slowly brought his mood slighlt upbeat as he began to enjoy his walk. He examined his surrounding realizing that he was close to the place where he'd fine the car Baji sent him to check out.

________

Hanma had finally arrived at D&D motors, the place that was selling an almost replica of his own car, the only difference that the one held at this mechanic shop was about 1 second faster and in racing that 1 second counted more than a life.

"You must be the guy Baji said who'd be taking a look at the R 32" Kazutora said his gaze fixed on whipping the oil on his hands off, not realizing who was standing in the shop.

"Don't worry about the condition, it's really good. I did a bit tinkering-" Kazutora said stopping himself once his gaze met the man who stood in one of his best friends mechanic shop.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Kazutora said, his friendly demeanor gone now replaced with agitation.

"I'm here for the car" Hanma said keeping his voice monotone, trying his best to not get physical with the shorter man with the dangling ball earring. The last thing he needed to do was lose his temper now, he might end up killing him.

"You've got some fucken nerve showing up here, you know. First you break (Y/N)-chan's heart and then you buy her fathers car" Kazutora said trying to keep his cool.

He nearly snickered when he heard Kazutora accused him of breaking your heart, when you were actually the one who ripped his to pieces and didn't even have the decency to tell him yourself your true intentions.

"It's just a car"

"Just a car!" Kazutora yelled feeling the anger radiate throughout his body, as he looked at Hanma who remained disinterested.

"This car is (Y/N)-chan's fathers and the only reason she's selling it, is because she's quiting racing and still needs to pay off his debt you dickhead"

"Why she quit'en did everyone realize she's going to financially exploit them to pay off Daddys debt" Hanma said finally airing out some of the built up irritation he held towards the situation you had placed him in.

"What?!" Kazutora said snapping at the tattooed hand man who still stood their expressionless.

"Kisaki told me already her little get up. She was going to use me for my money to pay off her fathers debt"

Kazutora's angered expression dropped at Hanma's words, now replaced with one of confusion.

"You really are dumb as you are big" Kazutora said condescendingly.

"Need I remind you, you came after (Y/N), and if she would be using people for money you'd be the last on the list, hotshot" Kazutora said turning his back on Hanma readying to leave the man and go back to working on his own car.

Hanma was taken aback at Kazutora's words, so you weren't using him for money. Then why did you leave he thought, his mind trying to comprehend everything at once. He had to ask him it was the only way he would be able to sleep tonight.

"Then why did she leave?"

Kazutora turned around now facing Hanma once again, and any emotion of anger or irritation was gone instead cold eyes pierced into Hanmas golden ones. Without having to ask what Hanma meant, Kazutora already knew what he was referring to.

"Isn't it obvious"

"She saw you kiss that girl"

___________

How could you forget the image of Hanma kissing that girl. The way his large hands clung onto her waist as he deepened the kiss. The image seered into your mind.

It had been 9 full days since you last saw Hanma and you planned to extend those 9 days to forever.

Your heart fought against your mind, your heart wanting you to find closure to the situation whereas your mind refused to let him waste anymore of your time. You had sided with your mind, the last time you gave your heart a chance you watched as it was ripped into two right infront of your eyes.

You looked at the red roses that still sat on your kitchen counter not having the heart to dispose of it yet, for as much as you sided with your mind a small piece of you held onto Hanma.

You let your mind wonder a little bit onto him before you pulled it back to reality.

'I'm done with Hanma' you thought.

'I'm done with racing, I'm done with it all'

As dramatic as it sounded to leave everything behind, you knew it was for the best. You had decided that you wouldn't race anymore, you would get a proper job to pay off your father's debt, even if working at D&D motors was considered a 'proper job' you needed one that brought more financial income into your pockets. The only time you would go to races was to support your best friend - Hanemiya Kazutora.

You were settled on your thoughts. That would be your new life an ordinary 9 to 5 with occasional visits of support to watch Kazutora and that was that.

Your thoughts shifted when you saw a familiar name appear across your phone. Intending to ignore it a part of you had to know why he was calling.

"Hello?"

_________

"Hi, (Y/N)-chan. It's Hanma. I'm sorry for everything. I wanted to explain myself. I'll come to your place, I still remember your address...I really like you (Y/N)" Hanma said ending the voice message, the 15th one he had left thus far. Every attempt at calling you went unanswered, every message left unread - 100 unread messages now.

When his heart had realized his mistake it went straight into panick mode, trying everything in his will to talk to you, to explain the situation. He didn't care about how desperate he seemed he just had to hear your voice, even if you said the most meanest cruelest thing to him.

"She's not picking up" Hanma said to Kazutora who was now sitting on the hood of one of the cars he was working on, lounging about listening as Hanma panicked away.

"What did you expect was going to happen" Kazutora said not even bothering to look up from the JDM magazine he was skimming through.

Hanma's gaze was now locked on Kazutora's figure that lounged about on the car, not even somewhat sympathetic to his panicked expression.

"Why aren't you helping me?" Hanma burst out, finally causing Kazutora to look up at Hanma.

Kazutora's eyes hung low as he looked towards Hanma behind the pages of the magazine- a clear depiction of unamusement and irritation painted on his face.

"Why should I ? You hurt the woman I care about and you expect me to run laps to help you solve the problem you caused. Grow up" Kazutora said dropping his eyes back down to the magazine.

Kazutora was tired of this, he was tired of having Hanma be one of the topics you always spoke about lately. It's not that he envied the position Hanma was putting himself in romantically rather that he was tired of all the negative things he brought into your life, from the way you complained that he belittled you to nothing but one of his groupies to cheating in the race just to take you on a drive and the one night he thought you'd come back with good news his instead told how the man himself had kissed another girl infront of you.

"Just leave (Y/N)-chan alone it's for the best" Kazutora said putting the magazine to the side as he hopped off the hood of the car. Getting to once again leave Hanma alone, as he attempted to do the first time before Hanma had begged him to help contact you.

Hanma felt defeated, all he wanted was to talk to you and explain things, make you understand and he wasn't even granted that simple wish.

"I can't just leave her alone, I love her Kazutora and I know you're going to say it's sudden but I do. And I don't mean the type of rushed love you force yourself to feel when you find someone attractive, or the type of love you get because they make eyes at you I mean the type of love where I could listen to her talk about everything and anything, the type of love that even on her bad moppy days I'd be there to cheer her up, the type of love that everyday you learn to love each other a little more, the type of love that when you're apart it hurts and you pray to have them in your arms. As much as it be easy for me to forget about her and go back to the old ways I had I doubt my mind would ever let me. All I can do is think about her- all day and all night"

Kazutora listened to each and every word that left Hanmas lips, he watched as Hanmas face fell with sadness and only lit up when he thought about you. As much as Kazutora was against Hanma he couldn't leave him to just wallow in heartbreak.

"She's in her apartment. Knock 5 times she'll think it's me" Kazutora said now finally walking away from Hanma.

"Thank you, Kazutora" Hanma said loud enough so Kazutora would be able to hear as he walked away.

"Oh and take the car it'll get you to her faster" Kazutora said quickly turning around with the smile Hanma was accustomed to as he threw the R32 keys in his direction.

_________

Hanma had drove, like he have never driven before. Switching gears as fast as possible, speeding down various road all in the hopes of getting to you quicker. He didn't care about the tickets he would rack up from speeding and riding over red lights. You were the only thought on his mind the only thing motivating him to go further.

When Hanma had arrived at your apartment complex it didn't take him long to reach your apartment as long legs carried him swiftly up the flight of stairs until he was met with a familiar door.

"(Y/N)" Hanma called out knocking 5 times just as he was instructed to by Kazutora.

"(Y/N)-chan" He called out again against the door.

"Its me Hanma please open I have to talk to you" Hanma said, not caring that he unveiled his identity- if the sound of his voice hadn't already given it away.

"Please just please open" Hanma said as his face now rested against the door.

Hanma let out a shallow breath, before sucking in all the air his lungs allowed him to fill up with, screaming your name over and over again.

"Please just open!"

Hanma pressed his face right up against the door, hoping that any moment you would swing the door open to tell him to stop yelling, anything so he could somehow wiggle is way into your home.

But after 15 minutes he realized you wouldn't open, so Hanma did what he thought was best. He would confess right outside your door hoping that it would be enough for your forgiveness.

"(Y/N)-chan, I know what you saw at Roppongi may have looked like I was kissing someone else, if I saw you in that same position as me I'd be just as pissed but I didn't know the girl she just grabbed me and I tried to pull away and she grabbed tighter. It was chaos (Y/N)-chan. You don't have to believe me but I wouldn't of done all this if I didn't care. I do care, I care so much. In these last 9 days all I could think about is you. How pissed I made you and yet you still agreed to go out with me on a stupid date, how you smiled at me. How you didn't pull back when I kissed you meant the world to me and for the past few days I knew what feeling was bubbling inside me it was love... I love you (Y/N)"

Hanma was still met with silence as he finished his confession with his face still against the door. So lost of hope until he heard the jingle of the lock being moved around, a sign that the door would open.

It was finally happening you were opening the door for him and no matter what reaction you gave, whether you accepted or rejected his confession he was going to kiss you, even if it meant you'd hit him so hard his face would be bruised.

The door slightly began opening, Hanma could see the image of a silhouette form behind the door and he readied himself.

It was happening the door was finally opening to releave none other than

A shirtless Rindou

"God, Hanma your banging woke me up you're lucky you didn't wake (Y/N) up"

.

.

.

Taglist:@tojitsukaisen @sleeplessreader @rinrinfox @ubbjwi @xbabybajix @barbiekatz

If you'd like to be tagged for the last chapter let me know, very juicy, steamy things

all rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[kpodcast]

It's about the YEARNING

Hello and welcome back to Yeaji's immaculate vibes for Friday! Maybe it's because it's October, or maybe it's because I love this song, but it feels like it's time for some yearning. There's plenty of songs that have the feeling, but I think there's one song that stands above the rest.

I'm talking about "Higher" by A.C.E of course. If you haven't heard it, please do yourself a favor and listen to it!

There's a lot musically going on to give it the yearning, but that's more of a Tuesday post, don't you think? The point for today is that it's there. There's an aching feeling deep in this song.

If I remember right, "Higher" is about a mermaid who's planning to risk everything for love. And that is translated perfectly in the music.

This is the song you listen to while riding the bus home in the rain, staring out the window like you're part of a dramatic music video.

This is the song that you would use as a backdrop for a fanmade anime video (iykyk).

It's desperate. It's longing. It's hopeful. It's resigned. It's searching.

It's a love song. It's a breakup song.

It somehow brings every fleeting emotion you might experience in a romantic relationship and puts it into one song.

I have a hard time putting this into words because this song is just... it invokes such strong and dynamic feelings. The song itself is pretty fast, and the music is pushing (reaching? chasing? searching?) and yet it feels like a ballad - maybe because of those long notes in the chorus.

And when I didn't think I could get any more feelings, A.C.E did a live version that sent my heart soaring. It's softer. It has tight harmonies that emphasize the desperation of the music. The band is quieter, without the extra effects in the studio version.

Not to mention, there's something special about listening to live music - I think we can all agree on that. As for "Higher", this live performance, with the adlibs and harmonies, adds so much to the music. There's a rawness in their live vocals (this is also true of the music show stages btw).

Whenever this song comes on, I can't help but belt out the chorus (and I can never hold that note as long as A.C.E but oh well) and the lingering message of "you're in my heart, let's do it, let's do it again"

It almost feels like a tragedy, doesn't it? Like in the musical "Hadestown". Which, side-bar, is excellent. But that tells of the Greek tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, and it has this same message. It's a sad song, but we keep singing it. No matter how many times the story is retold, it ends the same.

And yet we keep singing it! We continue to tell the stories of Greek tragedies. We keep reading/watching Shakespeare's tragic plays. We listen to songs like "Higher" or "Glimpse of Us" and we feel the tragedy and the heartbreak.

It may end in tears, but we experience it together. And maybe that's why I like this song so much. Because we all experience this particular yearning together. We carry this longing and loss together.

[allaboutdigital2024]

Check Out Ajay Devgn’s New Movie : Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha(2024)

The most versatile actor in Bollywood, Ajay Devgn, comes back with a bang in his most recent film, “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha.” Acclaimed for his powerful performances and alluring on-screen persona, Devgn never fails to mesmerize viewers with the characters he takes on. Let’s explore the factors that make “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” a must-see film.

Movie Overview

Title: Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha Director: Neeraj Pandey Genre: Action/Drama Release Date: July 2024

The action-drama “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” was directed by the well-known director Neeraj Pandey, who is renowned for his compelling narrative and dynamic direction. The movie is expected to be an intense, dramatic, and action-packed roller coaster, with Ajay Devgn playing a strong role that solidifies his place among Bollywood’s biggest performers.

Summary of the Story “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” is a Bollywood film that is set against the backdrop of a busy Indian city. It centers on the life of Ajay Devgn’s character Arjun, who has a fascinating past and a strong personality. Arjun becomes caught up in a web of corruption, betrayal, and personal grudges as he makes his way through a sequence of unanticipated activities. Justice, atonement, and the unrelenting search for the truth are among the issues that the movie tackles.

Cast and Characters As Arjun, Ajay Devgn: Arjun is a multifaceted individual with a concealed past who is driven to find the truth and battle injustice. Taapsee Pannu plays the strong-willed journalist Meera, who works with Arjun to assist him both strategically and emotionally. Commissioner Suryavanshi, played by Anupam Kher, is an experienced police officer torn between duty and morality. The character of Rana, played by Rana Daggubati, is a strong adversary who contributes complexity to the conflict.

Music: Vishal-Shekhar, a gifted partnership, composed the soundtrack for “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha”. They have created a musical experience that goes well with the story of the movie and are well-known for their ability to combine modern beats with emotional melodies. The songs are a mix of energetic hits that will connect with the crowd and heartbreaking ballads.

The vision of the director Famous for his roles in movies such as “A Wednesday!” and “Special 26,” Neeraj Pandey contributes his own touch to “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha.” His talent for crafting gripping stories with compelling character development guarantees that viewers will be engrossed in this movie from beginning to end.

Why You Should Watch

What Makes Ajay Devgn’s Performance Worth Seeing: Devgn shows off his ability to delve deeply into difficult characters with his dramatic and captivating depiction of Arjun. Captivating Storyline: Plot twists and turns abound, giving this compelling tale to watch. Robust Supporting Cast: The movie features a cast of gifted performers, including Taapsee Pannu and Anupam Kher, who deliver hit roles throughout. High-Octane Action: Sensational and realistic action scenes are expertly orchestrated in this film. Depth of Feeling: The movie delves into deep issues of justice, selflessness, and the human spirit in addition to action sequences.

Where to watch The movie “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” is scheduled to open in theaters both domestically and abroad. A few months after its theatrical debut, the movie should be accessible on popular streaming services for people who would rather watch at home.

In summary It appears like “Aur Me Kaha Dum Tha” would be among the most eagerly awaited Bollywood films of the year. This film, which stars Ajay Devgn and is directed by Neeraj Pandey, is expected to provide a cinematic experience that combines drama, action, and emotional nuance. Don’t miss this exciting adventure as Arjun fights against all obstacles to reveal the truth.

[thepermanentrainpress]

MEKEL: HOW TO FORGIVE (AND LET GO)

How to Forgive (and Let Go) – mekel Release Date: February 3rd, 2023

Track Listing:

1. TEETH 2. Not Good Enough for the Truth 3. SICKWISHES 4. HOUSEPARTY 5. Would-Be Memories 6. DROOLING 7. Fragile Fragility 8. How to Forgive (and Let Go)

How to Forgive (and Let Go) is self-described by singer-songwriter mekel. The Edmonton-raised, now Montreal-based artist debuts her first album with an impactful punch, laced with traces of pop, girl-punk, and r&b. mekel is exceptionally talented at capturing the story of love and the loss of it; bitterness, truth and acceptance are all themes explored in this album with a rawness and dramatism that feel authentic. It is perfect for when you’re mourning your shitty ex, and all of the emotions that come with being in and out of love.

Right away I’ll call out my favourite part of the album: the lyrics. mekel reads poetic by nature. Her lyrics are entrancing, with a mixture of metaphor and storytelling contrasting very simple and blunt lyrics. For example, in the opening song “Teeth” mekel sings, 

"Is it my teeth or the way that I speak that makes you question “why?”

Wasn’t I skinny enough to fit into the void that was in your heart?”

The style reminds me of early Paramore and Avril Lavigne — women that knew how to sing about how love (and breaking up) are ultimately nothing in the journey of self-worth and emotional expression. Paired with her dreamy synth-pop production and guitar, mekel should be listened to alongside new faces like Olivia Rodrigo and Willow.

I think mekel’s artistic vision for the album shines through in her darker songs. “SICKWISHES,” “HOUSEPARTY” and “DROOLING” all feature the constant thrum of a deep guitar, snare, or drums and bass juxtaposed with mekel’s haunting, airy vocals. These vocals are treated with reverb or autotune to give the songs a chilling quality to it, amplifying the feelings of betrayal and rage. It provides the album with the right energy emphasizing that How to Forgive (and Let Go) is “not a linear process” (mekel, 2023). Nobody wakes up after hardship and gets better everyday. We slip up, get angry, and sometimes find ourselves in the same place we started. mekel is here to remind us that it’s okay, and there’s feminine strength in that.

Speaking of the album’s narrative, I feel it does a good job of guiding the listener through this non-linear process in a way that is not jumbled. It still feels very cohesive, and it is songs like “Fragile Fragility” – my favourite on the entire album – that remind us of the pain and remorse that come with heartbreak. “Fragile Fragility” also highlights mekel’s production in a way that the other songs do not. It features mekel’s lullaby-esque vocals layered on top of each other accompanied by a haunting, minimal piano progression. It is different from the rest of the songs and makes for a striking track.

Each track searches for something that is either explicit — when can you leave that awful houseparty? — or something that the listener can uncover and find for themselves. The ending track, “How to Forgive (and Let Go),” is different for a reason. Not donning most of the pop inspiration the rest of the album has, this track is quiet and focused on the soft strumming of a single guitar and mekel’s vocals. mekel describes this track as “finding the answer” and I think it is a beautiful way to conclude an album about processing, expression, and healing.

Written by: Alexa Tarrayo

[bewitchingbooktours]

Weep, Woman, Weep by Maria DeBlassie - Haunted Halloween Spooktacular

The Ghosts We Carry and How to Banish Them

Have you ever noticed how in haunted house stories or an occult detective tale, there’s always an object that keeps a spirit anchored to a place?  It could be a keepsake from when the ghost was a living being or a terrible artifact use to summon darker entities.  Sometimes it’s a whole room or house, the energy of the people who have lived in it soaking into the very walls.  Other times it’s the memory of a horrific incident that has bled into the earth.

In order to banish the ghost, of course, we have to destroy the object—set it on fire, break it, or, to be less dramatic, let it go or move on from it. 

Move out of the haunted house.  

Contain the dark occult artifact that can’t be destroyed so that no one will find it (until the inevitable sequel, of course….this is dramatic fiction after all!). 

These stories remind us, in one way or another, that the things we carry with us absorb the energy of our experiences.  And that, sometimes, the only way we can move forward is to let those objects go.  Otherwise, we keep that old energy—sometimes toxic energy—around and get stuck, finding ourselves in a time loop of the same draining experiences that first tainted the objects in question.

The Ghosts We Carry 

Take, for instance, the story of The Sad Birthday Dress.  It goes like this:  There once was a woman who wanted to feel beautiful.  All day long she was asked to be nothing but a talking head.  But this woman knew she had a heart and hips and a juicy center.  So she bought herself a dress to remind herself that she could be a whole person and not just a shriveled head sitting in someone’s cabinet of curiosities.  And what a dress it was!  It was stunning, with finely spun organic lilac cotton and loud bouncy yellow and white polka dots that told her that she was allowed to have color in her life—that she was allowed to be of color, no need to pass as another kind of pale specter.   The skirt was flouncy and feminine and begged to be flipped up for illicit romance or at least a lively dance.

It was the perfect birthday dress.  So she did what any woman who wanted to feel alive did—she wore it out and ate cake and drank champagne and danced until the weight of the pale city bore down on her and her loud pretty dress didn’t make her feel pretty anymore.  Just sad.  Unspeakably so.  Because, she realized, this dress didn’t make her feel pretty.  It only reminded her that she lived in a place that didn’t want her to be a flesh and blood woman.  A city that was uncomfortable with her long wild hair and her rounded hips and the way the bodice of her dress clung to her breasts.   She knew shame in that dress.  And a sadness that welled up inside her until it became heartbreak.  That heartbreak spread from her body and into the dress as surely as the bubbly drink had spread through her body only moments before.

The woman learned a hard lesson that night:  A dress couldn’t fix a city that treated her like a brown stain on a white shirt.  And cake couldn’t disguise the fact that there was no sweetness for her there. Only loneliness and a bone-deep cold.  The solution was to leave in search of warmer hands and beating hearts.

Eventually, the dress came off.  But the heartbreak stayed.  And every time the woman tried to wear her I Am Beautiful Dress, she inevitably took it off and rehung in her closet, until one day she stopped trying to wear it all together.  It moved to the back of her closet, limp and half-forgotten, like a mediocre date or half-baked wish.  It was no longer her I Am Beautiful Dress.  It was stained with the experience of that night, which is how it became The Sad Birthday Dress.

Years later, when the woman had figured how to be a breathing, living woman and not someone else’s curiosity, she pulled the dress from her closet and her heart broke all over again.  She knew there was no reclaiming the original power of the beautiful bouncy fabric.  Of cake and champagne and moonlight.  In the dress, she saw the pain of her past welling up inside of her.  Its presence was like a ghost reminding her of all the broken things she could never fix. Of the hopeless realization that the thing she wanted—thought she wanted—wasn’t for her and, in fact, had never existed at all. She had been chasing phantoms and, in the process, almost become one herself.

So she packed it up and gave it away in the hopes that it might become what it was meant to be—that I Am Beautiful Dress—for someone else who was ready to pay the price to reclaim that joy in the way she hadn’t been when she had first purchased it.  The weight of that terrible time lifted from her shoulders and the energy in her home felt lighter. 

Now the woman has a closet full of I Am Beautiful Dresses.  They are loud.  And they sparkle.  And they have hems ready to be tossed above the knee for dancing and more dancing and things that would make you blush for me to write.   And they all radiate joy.  All because she let go of the thing that was holding her back.  All because she chose to feel the pain of the past and let it go.  All because she chose to be a loud woman with a beating heart in a sun-kissed land and not a phantom shade. 

Banishing Ghosts

Lovely little story, isn’t it?  And it’s all true.  I once had an I Am Beautiful Dress that became The Sad Birthday Dress.  And when I gave it away, I was giving myself permission to be more than that sad story.  I could learn from my past and create space for joy in my present.  The truth is, we all have a proverbial Sad Birthday Dress or something that was once a profound piece of armor in our lives that became stained by experience.  Other times, we change—becoming someone that certain objects no longer feel attached to, can no longer nourish.  And in order to keep growing, transforming, evolving, we must let them go.  If we don’t, what once was beautiful or nourishing becomes toxic.  The spirit that won’t move on becomes the ghost that terrorizes the living.

Having recently completed a massive house cleansing—saying goodbye to old ghosts and old selves—I found myself thinking about one of my pieces from Everyday Enchantments, “Letting Go of Past Lives, “ about the things you hold on to even when you are ready to let go of the person you used to be.  It can be scary to let go of the past because, as stagnant as it can make us, it’s also familiar and comforting. That’s why we hold on to so much unnecessary stuff. It keeps us feeling safe—but it also keeps us stuck.  In the end, it’s better to let go and know that you are creating space for new, positive vibes to enter your life (but not necessarily more stuff!).

The first part of banishing ghosts or old selves?  Let go of the objects they are attached to.  Say goodbye to things that don’t bring you joy or that you haven’t used in over a year.   Be conscious of the energy you want in your home and life.  Then be ruthless about protecting it—get rid of anything that doesn’t contribute to your overall sense of well-being.  Ghosts hide behind sentiment and guilt to keep you trapped under their spell.  Low-level spirits are a lot like low-level people: They want you to feel as trapped and miserable as they are, so they’ll do anything to stay in your life.  Best to see them for what they are and move on.

The second part of ghostbusting?  Let go of the troubling energy you’ve been holding onto psychically.  That last one will take a little more time, but letting go of the object that keeps constellating that energy will go a long way to dispersing its psychic impact.  Give yourself permission to heal and move on from sad or seemingly unfinished histories. 

The rest will follow.

This post originally appeared on Enchantment Learning and Living, home of professor, writer, and bruja Maria DeBlassie, where true magic is in the everyday!

Weep, Woman, Weep

A Gothic Fairytale about Ancestral Hauntings 

Maria DeBlassie

Genre: Gothic Fairytale, Occult, Supernatural

Publisher: Kitchen Witch Press

Date of Publication: August 25, 2021

ISBN:978-0-578-97464-4

ASIN: B09CV9P9SH

Number of pages:150 pages

Word Count: 37,935

Cover Artist: Rachel Ross

Tagline: Nothing makes a woman brave except getting on with the business of daily life.

Book Description:

A compelling gothic fairytale by bruja and award-winning writer Maria DeBlassie.

The women of Sueño, New Mexico don't know how to live a life without sorrows.

That's La Llorona's doing.  She roams the waterways looking for the next generation of girls to baptize, filling them with more tears than any woman should have to hold. And there's not much they can do about the Weeping Woman except to avoid walking along the riverbank at night and to try to keep their sadness in check.  That's what attracts her to them: the pain and heartache that gets passed down from one generation of women to the next.  

Mercy knows this, probably better than anyone.  She lost her best friend to La Llorona and almost found a watery grave herself.  But she survived. Only she didn't come back quite right and she knows La Llorona won't be satisfied until she drags the one soul that got away back to the bottom of the river.

In a battle for her life, Mercy fights to break the chains of generational trauma and reclaim her soul free from ancestral hauntings by turning to the only things that she knows can save her: plant medicine, pulp books, and the promise of a love so strong not even La Llorona can stop it from happening.  What unfolds is a stunning tale of one woman's journey into magic, healing, and rebirth.

CW: assault, domestic violence, racism, colorism

Amazon

Excerpt:

One time, I was feeling mighty fine and thought I’d try something different. I saw this ad in a magazine where a woman was in an obscenely large bathtub and covered up to the neck in bubbles. This was in a room with a marble floor, and there were candles everywhere, and she had her hair up all nice and a face mask on. Well, I got to thinking a nice long soak after a hard day’s work would be nice.

This was a few months after my run-in with Sherry, and I was trying hard to let myself enjoy things more. It occurred to me after seeing her that her fatal flaw was not believing that her future was right in front of her. Or maybe she was too afraid to take it with both hands. I began to wonder if we didn’t hold back and do half the work for La Llorona with all that we ran from life.

So I bought some bubble bath and made more beeswax candles and set about having myself a spa night. I mean, my bathroom was nowhere near as nice as the one in the picture. My tub was only long enough for me to sit upright and was right next to the toilet, but I made do.

It was lovely. I mean, divine! I could see why fancy women liked this. I put on the radio, and the music was soft and sweet, like the candlelight against the fading day. I was so relaxed, that I was about to fall asleep in that tub.

That was when I felt cold hands grip the soles of my feet and pull me under. I should have seen it coming. Why willingly linger in a body of water? But I didn’t, and that was how I found myself drowning in bubbles and thrashing around in my tub. It’s also how I learned that evil woman could find me anywhere—and I mean anywhere—so I could never let my guard down.

Her grip was strong. Seemed like the harder I fought, the stronger she got. I was flailing about, my arms searching for anything and everything to hold on to, when I knocked one of those beeswax candles into the tub. To this day, I have no idea why that scared her, but it did. She recoiled something quick at the hiss of the flame when the wax hit water.

I didn’t waste a second—I hoisted myself out of the tub and collapsed on the bathroom floor, choking and sputtering and sopping wet. Took me forever to clean up the mess and cough up all those flower-scented bubbles. My feet were cold and sore for days, with claw marks where her bony fingers hooked into my skin.

Whoever said bubble baths were relaxing was a big fat liar.

 About the Author:

Maria DeBlassie, Ph.D. is a native New Mexican mestiza blogger, award-winning writer, and award-winning educator living in the Land of Enchantment. Her first book, Everyday Enchantments: Musings on Ordinary Magic and Daily Conjurings (Moon Books 2018), and her ongoing blog, Enchantment Learning and Living are about everyday magic, ordinary gothic, and the life of a kitchen witch. When she is not practicing her own brand of brujeria, she's reading, teaching, and writing about bodice rippers and things that go bump in the night. She is forever looking for magic in her life and somehow always finding more than she thought was there.

Find out more about Maria and conjuring everyday magic at https://mariadeblassie.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/enchantmentll

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/enchantmentll

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mdeblassie.writer

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7rY-gLkSH-w8uuVyrhVALA

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[munamania]

listen i love the cast of stranger things dearly but compared to them... i am being fed by the casts who just decide to pursue the homoerotic subtext and play it as such. i dont need the lies anymore

[erodasfishtacos]

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast. 

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula. 

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money). 

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess. 

“Kissy?” 

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed. 

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal. 

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs. 

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest. 

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it. 

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly. 

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little. 

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy?  I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder. 

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now. 

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

— 

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room. 

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters. 

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor. 

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out. 

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

 When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws. 

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier. 

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you. 

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern. 

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together. 

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency. 

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark. 

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years. 

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations. 

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?” 

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist. 

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

[feliix]

Perfect Score ↠ Han Jisung

↠ Jisung x Reader (feat. Felix)

↠ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fake Dating!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 14.9k

↠ Summary: As you return home to work at your local coffee shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of love, but it’s Jisung’s mission to make you change your mind in just two weeks time.

↠ Warnings: idiots 2 lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, fingering, soft sex, language, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships

“That's disgusting.”

You grimace in the most subtle way as you watch the man across the shop press a gentle kiss on the cheek of the woman next to him. For some reason your shop is packed with couples this evening. Not that you’ve been counting, but they’re probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this just this shift alone. 

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t too far from the truth. Every time you’ve been burned by someone in the past has only made your hope about love deteriorate. Relationships suck. Already been there, done that, and you don’t plan on doing it again.

You’ve always stuck by the same theory; relationships either lead to heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage may still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jisung laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he rounds the corner. He’s just in time to catch your snide remark, surely it won’t be the last one you’ll make tonight though. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy to say the least. The sun has already set, and it’s the afternoon rush when everyone comes in for their second daily dose of caffeine. And it’s definitely necessary – especially on a day as hot and exhausting as this one. It’s the third day that its been over 100º in a row and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Jisung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath. In your mind it absolutely isnt. Its a mystery why all these people need to publicly display their affection in a coffee shop anyway...

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss has always been kind of an asshole, just leaving 2 kids in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. There's always been an aching suspicion that he just goes to the bar across the street, since his car is still parked behind the shop but he’s always nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than him looming over your shoulder and criticizing your technique the whole shift.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Jisung shakes his head.

In stark contrast to yourself, Han Jisung is quite the hopeless romantic. So much so that he tends to search for love in all the wrong places. Maybe a better way to describe it is that Jisung has a series of flings. He’s not shy to test the waters of any girl he comes across – and there are many, many waters that he’s tested. Lucky you gets to hear all about each one, being his friend and all.

But to your good friend’s demise, his ‘relationships’ never end up working out for very long. Theres always some kind of fatal flaw that’s a means to an end. Whether it was Jisung’s fault or the girls,  it’s always confused you why he could never hold onto something longer than a couple months. Jisung is a great guy, it didn’t make sense.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left. The night has been dragging on since you stepped foot in the door and heard the little jingle as it opened. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d only made it through half your shift thus far.

“Just under an hour. Want to start the closing checklist so we can get outta here?” Jisung offers, reaching for the rag and sanitation bucket at the end of the counter.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave no later than at 8 o’clock on the dot. 

Luckily, closing tonight goes as smoothly as it possibly can. You and Jisung are ready to get out of there at 8 on the dot, thanks to your determination to mop like a mad woman and stock the front as fast as humanly possible. 

The air outside feels crisper than usual. Maybe its because you’ve been locked up in a small room that smells like coffee beans for 10 hours, but you’ll never get enough of the night air. 

“So what are we doing tonight?”Jisung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was planning on going home and getting some rest…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. Jisung always goes out after your weekend shifts and never lets up on convincing you to tag along. So you can’t look at him, his eyes are much too convincing make contact with, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Gah you’re so boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot to ruffle the hair on top of your head, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, smoothing down your hair as a pout forms on your lips. The suggestive smirk settling across Jisung’s face is telling; he knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to turn him down or fish for another excuse. So you tilt your head, subtly rolling your eyes as you wait for him to explain what his big plans for tonight are.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

Accepting defeat, you shoot him a thumbs up before turning to get into your car. Asking any more questions would take away any time you had to wash up – and smelling like coffee beans any longer is going to drive you up a wall since it hasn't already.

It doesn’t take much time for you to rush home and get ready, and before you know it Jisung is there to pick you up. Only a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course and right on time in Jisung terms. 

The car ride to your destination feels like a blur with how exhausted you are. So when you end up at your favorite boba spot, you immediately perk up. Those tapioca pearls always manage to give you a second wind.

But when Jisung decides to take a seat at one of the round tables just outside the shop instead of getting back in the car you know somethings up. You were expecting to hop back in the passenger seat of his car, maybe listen to some music for a while and drive around to kill time. 

Initially he doesn’t say much. His legs just bounce hyperactively while he fidgits with the straw of his drink. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up; his eyes staring down at the cup in front of him instead of sipping from it, lip caught between his teeth.

The energy is off. Not only did you expect to hang out and do something adventurous like Jisung normally would, but now you’re watching his cheeks grow red while avoiding conversation.

Awkward silence becoming too much to bear, you take matters into your own hands. “So how are things going with that girl?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “she didn’t really work out.”

Unsurprised by his response, you just nod along. Its always to expect since he’s the pickiest person you’ve ever met. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh, and then the one before that didn’t like cheesecake. There always seems to be a laundry list of deal-breakers tied along to each one of Jisung’s relationships, and that is something you’ll always expect.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, and you’ve never understood the point of to putting all your effort into something like that. There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyebrows furrowing in response, hands gripping his thighs in anticipation

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are kind of just a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway, Y/N?”

Now thats a response that you are not prepared for. The question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Jisung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and just answer his question, as uncomfortable as it is. 

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your cup once again.

“Not every guy is a dead-beat.”

His words carry a harsh bite to them, almost as if he finds you’ve said offensive. It burns his ego a bit, assuming that you’re grouping him in with all the guys you’ve been with in the past. Which is strange, Jisung should know that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You aren’t able to talk to guys, or most people for that matter, in the same way that you talk to Jisung. He’s the one you rant about all the assholes to. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence his expression changes, Jisung’s eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you haven’t seen very often, and you can’t say that you’ll ever get used to it. 

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Jisung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words fall from his tongue, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle slips past his lips. Instinctively your stomach tightens, the air around you now feeling a bit heaver each second time ticks on. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do? I think it could be fun.”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “if it works then I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Jisung. And Jisung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your boba from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“Wait, you're like dating dating the Han Jisung?” Felix’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on his face as you spill about your night with Jisung.

Felix is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Jisung of course. Not that he shares the hatred himself, he’s just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know just how you felt. He’s only heard about it every day for the past several summers.

Felix is your best friend, other than Jisung of course. He’s also the only person in this world that you could bear to work with on a Saturday morning. 

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the containers on the counter. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday morning, only a handful of customers have come in so far and it's already 11 am.

That’s the thing about working at a coffee shop – and it sucks when it's busy, and it sucks even more when it's slow. At least it isn't a terrible job, you at least have Jisung and Felix to keep you company and that's always worthwhile.

“And for the record,” you turn to look at Felix, a grin still evident on his face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind about the love stuff.”

“You know how Jisung is,” his eyebrow lifts, “so you never know. Maybe something could happen.” 

If anyone was surprised that you were dating someone, fake relationship or not, it would be Felix. On top of that, you’re dating Han Jisung. As in, the same Jisung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled too much like peaches’ and it was ‘too good to be true.’ And now that you’re the one stuck with him for the next 14 days, it is only a matter of time until he finds the deal-breaking trait that turns him away from you.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. If I know Jisung, he’ll be over it before the 2 weeks even ends.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of his voice is raised teasingly. You can tell he doesn’t believe this will be just a ‘two-week thing’ by the funny little look on his face. You hate that look, and you hate how Felix always seems to be right.

Subsequently Felix sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You’ve grown up with Jisung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Felix, on the other hand, has a different point of view. 

He’s not in it like you are, so gets to see the way Jisung looks at you; the way he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth with a sparkle in his eye. He notices that Jisung longs to make you laugh. And he watches the toothy grin each that grows on your face each time a chuckle breaks through your lips. Felix notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is he to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in his mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the clean marble countertop beside you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Jisung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this. 

The lack of customers and silence that's fallen among the shop is just making it easier for your mind to wander off. It was beginning to make you sick how much you were thinking about Jisung and nothing has even happened yet. It's not like you have any reason to be nervous, but keeping all these thoughts trapped in your thick skull is starting to give you a headache

“He’s picking me up after work.” You blurt it out without thinking much about it. No one is here, you might as well lay it all out there for Felix to know since there's nothing better to do.

“He’s picking you up? Like you’re going on a date?”

“Shut upppp,” your eyes roll at his teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy the thought of this ‘date’ is making him, and you for that matter. It’s just Jisung. And you are just hanging out like you do every other night. There's nothing different about tonight and you’ll be able to prove that to yourself and Felix by the next time you see him.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Felix. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Jisung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Jisung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8 pm.  What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Jisung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Jisung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Jisung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a coherent sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his smile to light up the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the espresso stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth nervously.

Tonight he’s dressed a lot nicer than usual comfy attire; a nice shirt with a pair of dark jeans that hug his slim figure. His hair is a lot lighter too – a vast change from the midnight black strands that normally frame his face. He’s really going all out for this thing – and right now all that you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front.

When you look to your right, Felix is just as stunned as you are. Frozen in his spot as his jaw practically sweeps the floor, he looks at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised as a smug expression crosses his face. For a second you contemplate asking him if he’s all set to finish the closing checklist on his own, but before you’re able to speak up he’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, Jisung hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“So do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips, followed by a slight pull on your heart strings. Knowing he took the time to think about bringing you something else to wear so you didn’t have to sit in your coffee scented clothes all night made you feel warm in the strangest way. He’s thoughtful, and it's weirding you out – but in a good way.

“So, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

A vague yet interesting, and very on-brand response from Jisung. He’s always been a fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination drags on forever. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between your agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time. All you know is that you’ve been driving along the backroads of your area for at least 15 minutes, and there is nothing around you to indicate that your destination is near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing a very good job at their primary function. It's pretty hard to see what’s around you, no matter how hard you squint and press your forehead to the window to get a better look.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Jisung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jisung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that  leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Jisung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Jisung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Jisung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Jisung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

But it’s just Jisung. Jisung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Jisung and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Jisung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Jisung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Jisung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the coffee shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Felix teases, letting his chin fall into his palm as he leans on the counter before him, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Jisung chuckles at his nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told Felix all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Jisung felt like the odd man out when you’re all together.

“It was good.”

Jisung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to his imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell – or to not kiss and tell. Keeping his private life all to himself is something he takes pride in, things are just better that way.

“Just good?” Felix challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. His eyes narrow as he waits for his response. You haven’t told him anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end, which left Felix dying to know what actually happened on your ‘date that wasn't a real date.’

Jisung glances back at him, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans. It would be kind of nice to have someone else to confide in. Especially since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this may be the one secret that you don’t know of.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Felix. Not that Jisung would ever want to pry, there's just no indication of how you feel about last night, or about him. Before Jisung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Felix’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – he knows something.

“You like her don’t you,” he muses, rubbing his hands together smooths as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now – and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but it's clear as day to Felix – and that is more than enough to make Jisung worry.

“I don’t,” Jisung denies the other boy’s claim, his willpower too strong to give in.

“Oh yeah? So why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

The words catch Jisung off guard; his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny the claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Felix is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Jisung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you. None of the girls he’s ever met could ever match up to all that you are. In his mind, you held the perfect score, and no one else had ever come close.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know.”

There's no way he’s that obvious... Did his feelings show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Jisung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Felix will follow up with a ‘just kidding’ or change the subject. Only the silence that falls on the room is enough of a response for Jisung to get the clue. 

“Just please don’t tell her,” he avoids eye contact with the other boy, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered tile. “I just wanted to see if I could change her mind – about the love stuff, you know?”

The second you find out about Jisung’s feelings all bets would be off. There’s no way you’d let your little arrangement continue, not if either of you could end up hurt. And he knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, it was a deal between two friends. The second feelings get involved, everything gets all mushy and confusing, and Jisung can’t lose you.

Felix bears his weight on the counter behind him, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “Believe me, I want her to be done with that ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” he sighs, looking around momentarily before he clears his throat. “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Jisung’s heart skips a beat once the words leave Felix’s mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers his thoughts. His stomach begins to twist as he considers it, almost confused about what Felix means, but not willing to accept it. You only agreed to fake-date him, you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Felix watching him as his lips roll between his teeth, deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in Jisungs head like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, all for the right reasons of course. So that you don’t  have to be so miserable about it anymore. 

But behind those selfless reasons are several smaller, selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too. It’d be crazy to ignore the feeling he has deep in his chest, and maybe it's a sign not to.

“Like you think…” Jisung gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Felix gives is ominous, but the raise of his eyebrows and toothy grin forming on his face needs no words to tell. 

If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Jisung.

That night Jisung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you could remember it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Jisung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped a cup of iced coffee on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave it there without cleaning anything up or letting you know. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and there were coffee stains stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Jisung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Jisung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got. 

It’s been 12 days since you became Jisung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night when two frappuccinos splattered all over the shop floor, whipped cream and all. Spending time with Jisung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Jisung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Jisung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Jisung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Jisung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Jisung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N,” Felix says waving a hand in your face.

You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Jisung?”

“What?” you immediately straighten your posture and brush yourself off before responding, “N-no…I’m just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from his lips, not sparing you any time to save yourself as he turns away, beginning to wipe off the tables in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Felix out of the loop during this whole “fake-boyfriend Jisung” thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Felix the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. And what if all these things that you’re feeling is just a part of the honeymoon-phase. If that even existed anyway… But if all these feelings for Jisung are due to him trying to woo you and change your mind, everything will just fade away as things return back to normal. And then you’ll be left loving him in silence while you watch him blow through relationships like a leaf blows through the wind.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Felix for him to know. Every time Jisung picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide he’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Felix’s eyes. He knows you too well to look over things like this, he just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Felix has decided to take matters into his own hands, asking you about it himself.

“Felix,” you start, waiting for his attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit. Quickly he does, a questioning but knowing look evident on his face as the stool squeaks under him. “You know how this thing between Jisung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

He nods in response, his hand quickly falling into his palm as he listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

His question is more for clarification, he wants to hear you say it yourself. Felix knows that you’re gonna tell him that you’ve already caught feelings. He sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at him. You can feel the grin on his face. You know he's smirking at you right now, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you over the ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face him.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Felix hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on his face can't grow any larger, but it does. He jumps up from his chair in victory, doing a funny dance with his arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Felix smiles, his happy dance subsiding as he positions himself back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.” Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring sounding off on each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the boy sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Felix is your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Jisung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be. Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face and falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles. 

A sympathetic sigh leaves Felix’s lips as he tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face him – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank god it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like  

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Jisung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something. 

It’s not until Felix is rising from his seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Jisung...” he starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Felix is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. He can’t speak for you; but he’s scared that saying nothing could just make this whole situation worse.

His mouth gapes as he searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing while he hums to himself.

The umbrella hanging from Jisung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Felix as he jumps at the sudden sound. But before he is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Jisung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Jisung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Felix. He’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an coffee shop. 

After Jisung left, Felix came back and let you know; he almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let him in. He told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Jisung, it hurts enough just thinking about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Jisung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Jisung for god’s sake. He’s your personal diary, he’s the one who knows all the shit that nobody else does. And he’s the only one that listens to all the dumb shit you have to say that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Jisung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Jisung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Jisung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Jisung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Jisung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Felix standing there with an umbrella in his hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

Suddenly, he pushes past you and invites himself into to your living room. Plopping down on your couch, Felix makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to him, plopping down on the next cushion over.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as he hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Jisung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves his lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was he giving it to you, why is he here, and why did he have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” He says sternly, his eyes locked on you as he waits for you to look back at him. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Jisung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Jisung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his mouth gently, a sigh following it before he reaches for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Felix you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to Jisung. You most definitely want to – and if you could, you would. But you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” he sighs, this time more forceful, like he’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.” Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” he mumbles, his eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped. Eyes wide with confusion, you’re begging him to go on, but if he does then Jisung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. It's not up to Felix to tell you what he knows this time. 

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” he stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Felix is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Jisung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces. 

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Jisung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are  no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Jisung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind. 

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Jisung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times. 

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand. 

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Jisung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way. 

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story. 

Jisung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Jisung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never prys.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him. 

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen. 

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely. 

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate. 

“Jisung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say. 

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape. 

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Jisung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop. 

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price. 

“Y/N I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Jisung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Jisung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips. 

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration. 

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Jisung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Jisung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten. 

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this. 

Slowly, Jisung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh. 

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts. 

In a leisurely motion, Jisung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Jisung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his. 

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Jisung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body.  Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Jisung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him. 

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologise,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen eachother naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Jisung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.” 

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?” 

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Jisung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Jisung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Lucily, Jisung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down. 

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Jisung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more. 

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. 

In one swift motion, Jisung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction. 

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else. 

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Jisung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Jisung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it. 

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips. 

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched. 

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Jisung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out. 

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Jisung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Jisung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Jisung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Jisung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full. 

You’ve always felt close to Jisung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Jisung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still holding confidence; his tone never falters.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Jisung.”

Being in love is a dumb concept. All guys suck, relationships are stupid and love is a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Jisung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right infront of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

‘Perfect Score’ is copyright 2020-2021 @chaangbin, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

↠ A/N this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous BTS fic Crush Culture.