#matt rodriguez x reader

[f1rewr1t3r]

which characters would this be

"im telling you that girl/boy is trouble.. uh- where are you going"

"gonna go get into trouble"

[ivyflowers13]

Luke Alvez

Luke Alvez imagines:

hoping to post more, accepting request and feedback

follow so you don't miss

** pictures are not mine **

book date

hug

Safe place

My girl

Braids

Luke’s truck 🛻 New

divider credit

[edgessunflower]

Old school look

Pairing: Raquel Rodriguez x Fem reader x Liv Morgan

Description: Your girlfriends cut and split dyed your hair inspired by the looks of WWF era wrestling

You laugh at your girlfriends getting the bathroom ready for the next two hours of chaos that would take place. You had been wanting to get your hair cut and dye it a new color since the dark green you had put in three months back had started to fade and mix in with your natural color making your hair look like a greenish black, the three of you were watching old matches when WWE was known as WWF back in the day and inspired by the aesthetic of the 90's and mainly your idol Jeff Hardy who was the reason you wanted and grew up to be a wrestler and have your career, you decided to mix and split dye your hair after having it turned from the long bob to a pixie cut "Let's do this babyyy" you giggle at Liv as you walk in the bathroom and sit down wearing an old t-shirt from your NXT days and shorts as the girls comb and brush your hair out. You keep your eyes closed as you hear the clipping and snipping of the scissors and buzzing of the clippers feeling a shiver run up your spine as you feel it run up your neck, you all talk as the task goes on until they say your done getting up and showering as they sweep the floor and clean up before getting the bleach ready to put in your hair first as you sit back down closing your eyes as they bleach your hair listening to music until you rinsed it out and the girls cheer when they see that it was perfectly blonde smiling as they put the lavender purple and vibrant yellow in your hair carefully covering strands of your hair so the colors don't mix with each other as the three of you eat and watch tv until the timer goes off squealing as you head to the bathroom. After thoroughly and carefully rinsing your hair, you dry off and the girls comb your hair as you wait to open your eyes, squealing when you open them and see how great the final look was excited to show it off on raw tomorrow night, you wave at the fans in the crowd hearing yells of how they loved the new colors and pixie cut cheering your girls on in their tag team match and falling out of your chair when jeff hardy himself comes down and sits beside you "That hair is fucking badass, reminds me of when me and Matt were the ones in the ring" your heart squeals as you thank him for the compliment officially meeting him backstage after the girls won and raw was done, you share a heartfelt hug with him smiling later that night when you see the post he tagged you in with pictures of the two of you "Girls you're doing my hair from now on" they laugh before each kissing you as you all wind down for the night.

[bstvst]

A Life Worth Watching (Pt 1/?)

With Every Heartbeat x Red Carpet Diaries

F!Dakota Winchester x reader (past), Victoria Fontaine x reader (eventual)

Word count: 736

A/N: This first chapter is basically a summary of events from WEHB and the beginning of RCD.

A(nother)/A/N: Really this is WEHB as past and context and RCD characters doing whatever I want because I'm too lazy to go back and replay all of RCD lol. So here's this AU I guess, I will try to follow the storyline of the first RCD book, but eventually I'm gonna do what I want lmao. But I'm saying reader/you/"sage" moved to Boston from Iowa, so the Iowa nickname is still usable. I apologize this took so long, but writing intros is hard for me, hopefully now that this is out it'll be easier to write.

Go live a life worth watching.

Those words still stay with you after all these years.

Those words from your first love, Dakota Winchester.

You had a love story for the ages. That's what she would say about you two. You both fell hard and fast in your senior year of high school. She was the outgoing, bubbly popular girl and aspiring director while you were the new transfer student. There was something that gravitated both of you together, staying just friends was never an option.

When you learned of Dakota's cancer, you never saw her other than this amazing, lively, wonderful person. You even helped her make a short film that got her an award at her dream school in California. That after party was where she told you she loved you for the first time.

When her cancer came back, you still stayed by her side, knowing that you needed to be with her throughout her second fight against her leukemia. It was hard watching someone you love go through something so hard, her bad days were bad, and she tried pushing you away as her way of "protecting" you, which didn't work. You stayed and reassured her that you wouldn't be going anywhere. To show her you really meant it, you shaved your head after helping shave hers. You even threw her a special prom at the hospital with her friends since she wasn't cleared to leave yet. This girl had to know that she was never going to get rid of you, not unless....

.

.

.

After she passed, it felt like you were just going through the motions of life. Nothing but a numb feeling as you moved through your monotonous daily routines.

Graduation came and you received a video of her recounting your past year. How your love story really was for the ages, and how you have to live a life that'll be exciting for her to watch.

So you accepted your offer from California's Grantmore University with a major in acting. Not only were you going to live a life worth watching, you were going to live in a way that honoured her legacy as a future feature-film director.

Your time in university would allow you to become more adept at acting and you truly fell in love with it, all because Dakota Winchester got you to act in a short film in your senior year of high school.

Even though Dakota made you promise to try and find love and be happy after she passed, you never really dated in university. It wasn't that you weren't being asked, you were just focused on school, and thinking about Dakota still hurt made your heartache just a little.

In your last year, you found out that one of your old classmates from Iowa, Chazz, was working for a talent agency and offered to represent you once you graduated.

Post graduation, your mom helped you out with signing for a small apartment on the edge of Los Angeles, and your attempts at trying to get cast were officially underway.

After many unsuccessful and downright weird auditions, you get a call from a new friend, Teja, who is an assistant director on the new Markus von Groot film, telling you that you should audition for one of their lead parts. When you went to the audition, Matt Rodriguez, one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood was there to be your scene partner and test the chemistry between the two of you. The audition process seemed alright, and while Markus seemed like a weirdo, this role would be huge for your career.

That leads you to tonight, the Friday of that same week, Chazz gave you a call and told you the amazing news that you were chosen to star opposite Matt Rodriguez in the Markus von Groot film that was sure to be the summer blockbuster.

You started freaking out, you were going to star in your first feature film, and with an established cast and crew at that. You just closed your eyes and looked up towards the sky, thinking about how Dakota would be so happy for you in this moment. You let the moment pass and begin calling your mom and your friends Amy, Mateo, and Lennox to tell them the good news.

Your life was really going to start, and you hoped Dakota had popcorn wherever she was.

[ernestsinclairs]

Victoria Fontaine Wedding Board

**Request any LI for a wedding board!**

The Ring: Victoria proposed to you with a  diamond ring she’d bought from the estate of a vintage Hollywood starlet. She’d refurbished the ring, adding a few modern touches, combining the old and the new.

The Dress: You wore a dress of draped white silk and satin, pinned by a crystal brooch at the small of your back. Being an A-List actress had its perks, with haute couture designers from Chanel bringing your dream dress to life. Victoria went for something a little more sultry, with sheer fabric embroidered with thousands of tiny crystals and a trailing mantel to match.

The Ceremony: You and Victoria held an Old Hollywood glamour wedding at the Hotel Casa Del Mar in Santa Monica. With a live band crooning vintage music and the room lit up with soft gold and tuxedo black-and-white and scarlet, it was like stepping into a totally different world. 

The Cake: You had a four tier cake embossed with gold decals and sugar flowers. Though it was the classic vanilla flavor, you and Victoria had chosen a spiced raspberry jam for the filling, and covered the entire thing with fondant and gold leaf.

Extra Notes: To throw off the paparazzi, you told the press that the wedding would be held at another location two hundred miles. Sure enough, they were camped out there all night, waiting in vain while you and Victoria partied with your guests all night long. Afterwards, you went to Costa Rica for your honeymoon, renting a private beach bungalow and jet.

First Dance Song: At Last, Etta James

[peachesandlesbians]

Preference: First Date (RCD)

THOMAS HUNT: 

Thomas would take you to a classy (read: expensive) restaurant where only the finest food would be served—nothing less for you, of course. He would be quiet, instead preferring to watch you as you chatted on about your life. It was endearing, to see someone so free and happy, untainted by the horrors of Hollywood. And it was also nice, Thomas decided. Very nice. 

“My talking is probably annoying you, huh? Sorry—”

“No need. While insistence chattering is what I consider a vice, you make it a  virtue.”

ADDISON SINCLAIR:

Addison would take you somewhere flashy, to impress you, and what better way to do that then a fashion show? While all the clothes were glitzy, and there were so many famous people, you couldn’t help but ask Addison if she was enjoying herself. When she heard you, her eyebrows flicked upward. You promptly left, and Addison took you to a restaurant where you both talked without any interpretation. 

“Okay, I wanted to impress you because I like you. A lot. Tell me if I’m coming on too strong though!”

“You dork. We can go anywhere you want; you don’t need to impress me.”

HOLLY CHANG:

Holly would prefer something quiet, away from people, personal, but somehow she should be able to show off her knowledge. So, she would take you to an obscure—but still classy—pub that’s holding a poetry slam. You both would listen to the poems but Holly would open up. This is the place she goes when she has writer’s block; she found it by wandering around one day. 

“Hey, here’s my booth.”

“This little place?”

“Just because it’s small doesn’t mean it’s subpar or pedestrian! This place was built in—”

“Yes, yes, you’re a genius, we know.”

“Glad we could agree.” 

VICTORIA FONTAINE:

Victoria would make the date herself. There was no use to her for stupid people who couldn’t do anything right. It would probably be a nice dinner at her place, with fresh flowers and food. After your dinner, Victoria would hold your hand and take a nice, long walk. If you played your cards correctly, you might get lucky . . .

“This is amazing, Victoria.”

“Only because you’re here.” 

MATT RODRIGUEZ: 

Matt would take you to the great outdoors. Maybe hiking or horse-riding, anything that could you two alone and free. With him, it was a feeling of exhilaration and relaxation. Bliss, one could say. After the date, you would get a chance to bond, with Matt opening up a bit more. 

“Did I ever tell you why I like being outdoors so much?”

TEJA DESAI:

Teja, I think, would go for a classic first date: a trip to the movies. Of course, she would go see anything you liked. She would also be the person to hold your hand or put a hand on your thigh while pretending to focus on the movie. Teja would talk about the movie afterward, all laughs and giggles.

“This is the type of movie I want to make.”

“But better, of course.”

“Hah! Something like that.” 

SETH LEVINE: 

Seth would go for a more crazy, unique first date. Something like . . . the zoo. You both would go and feed the animals, while Seth cracked his best jokes. But it wasn’t all humour, though. He was honest with you about his aspirations and fears—and everything in between. Seth’s main goal was to put a smile on your face. Anything to make you happy, after all. 

“Hey, Y/N, listen to this!”

[inlovewithalotoffandoms]

'Secrets' Part 1

E.J Caswell x Reader

Summery: You have a secret that only Gina, Ashlynn, Nini, Carlos literally everyone in the theatre club knows. Even miss Jen. The only person that doesn't know is your boyfriend E.J. Your secret is that you work with the Flash and when your watch beeps three or more times it's an emergency. Here's where this gets interesting E.J being E.J asked everyone 'Why does she keep running of." Or even "Is she cheating on me?" So yeah your friends and E.J get kidnapped by one your's and Barry's enemies.

You and Gina were at your locker talking about what happend on your last mission when your boyfriend E.J Caswell came.

"Hey e.j." Gina said.

"Hey ranger rick." You said smiling.

"Hi." He said and kissed you, witch took you by surprise.

"Uhhh, best friend still here." Gina stated in annoyance.

"Right sorry, Gina. Oh Y/N I wanna tell you something?" E.J said to you.

"What about?" You asked your handsome boyfriend.

"Uhhh,"

The ball rung and you said,

"Tell me later. Gina and I have Science, we have Mr Fuller. If we're late he will give us detention."

"Bye." Gina said.

"See you later hotshot." You say while dragging Gina to scince.

"Okay, when are you gonna tell him."

"When the time is right."

"And when will the time be right. How long can you keep it up?"

"As long as I need to Gina."

"Really? This has gone on long enough."

"What has?"

"The secrets. The lies."

"If he knows, Marcus will use him agents me."

"Y/N."

"Look Mr Fuller is here so shut up."

In the middle of class your classmates decided to do a tick-tock joke.

"Mr Fuller? It's hot in here can you please turn the heater off." One of your idiotic classmates asked.

"No. You wanna know why. It's perfectly fine in here." Mr. Fuller said.

Everyone except you and Gina pretended to faint.

"Why aren't the two of you doing it." He asked.

"Mr Fuller. We can tell you're mad and we don't want to make you more angry." You say.

"Yeah. And when they said they were going to do it. Y/N and I thought how you would be feeling so, we decided not to do it." Gina continued.

"We tried really hard to get them to not do it but nothing we were doing was changing their minds." You finished.

"Thank you Y/N and Gina you can go out five minutes early." Mr. Fuller said greatly to you and Gina, and then continued, "As for the rest of you......afternoon detention."

"Urghhhhh." The class compland.

"Wanna make it a Saturday?"

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

"You have to tell E.J." Ashlynn said while the rest of your friends nodded in agreement.

"Have to tell me what?" E.J asked while coming to your lunch table.

"Uhhh, ummmm. E.J Uhh." All of a sudden your watch started beeping. Everyone looked at you with a look that said 'Go. We'll cover for you' you gave them a smile that said 'thanks' and left.

"Why did she run off?" E.J asked the group.

"She has something important to do." Carlos said hoping you would come back as soon as possible.

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

"So what's the big emergency?" You asked Cisco.

"We got a video message." He repiled.

"From who?"

"I think you know."

"Crap. Play the message."

Video message

"Hello Y/N. Now I'm sure you're wondering why I have sent you a video message. Well, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You and me go for ice cream. Or else something will happen to your best friends and your so called 'cute' boyfriend. Okay choi."

"Girl you good? You look pissed." Cisco asked you in worry.

"Call him. Call him now." You said in a mad voce.

"Okayyyy."

Cisco called Marcus and he said,

"I see you got my message."

"Yeah I did and you know what captain eyebrows....the answer is no." You say to him coldly.

"Well I guess we have to do this the hard way." He smirked.

[aparmentier7]

anyone wanna be friends lol?? i want more criminal minds besties :)))

[ricksbowen]

can i request a joshua bassett imagine about you being a cast member on hsmtmts and the whole cast knows josh likes you but you’re oblivious and at the premier frankie and everyone is teasing you about joshua staring at you the whole night

flashing cameras | j.b

IN WHICH: joshua looks at you as if you’re his favorite movie.

INSPIRATION: electric love — borns

“Y/N! Y/N!”

A bright smile appeared on your face as you walked up to the reporter, greeting his with a polite hug as she held the microphone up to you.

“Oh, look at you! You look gorgeous!” the reported gushed, and you felt your face burn red at her compliment. You never did get used to the fame. One minute you were auditioning for a new show, the next you were cast as one of the main characters.

“Thank you, it means a lot,” you responded with a smile that would’ve made anyone’s heart melt.

“You play Isabella Bordeaux in High School Musical: the Musical: the Series, right?” the reporter began, and you nodded in response. “Can you tell us a little bit about her? She’s a new character in the second season, right?”

“Right,” you beamed, trying to keep a cool head as you started talking. “Well, she’s a French exchange student, and she’s a junior,” you explained. “She’s not really the type to join a musical; she’s a cheerleader, but one of the more quiet and honest ones.”

“It must be hard speaking French for the camera. Did you have to take lessons?”

“Well, all I had prior to filming was the French class I was taking in school,” you said with a shy smile, letting out a relieved sigh when the reporter laughed politely.

How could you look so pretty while doing the most simple things? Joshua asked himself that question more times than he’d like to admit, and as his eyes lingered on you and not at the camera, he heard someone bump him in the hip playfully.

“You are terrible at being discreet,” Frankie snickered, his voice low enough for only Joshua to hear. Olivia was beside him, smiling teasingly as his face burned red. It almost hurt them how oblivious you were to Joshua’s fleeting looks and longing eyes. You had always been blind to cues that were even a little bit romantic; it was obvious in the way you’d unknowingly shoot Joshua down in his attempts by giving him a high five.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what he means,” Olivia remarked, smiling towards the camera for just a second before looking back at Joshua. If only the paparazzi knew what they were talking about; they’d eat it up in a second. “I swear, you were drooling before we came here.”

Joshua frowned a bit, fingers consciously reaching for his mouth to check of any drool. The action made Olivia and Frankie laugh, and Joshua knew he was gonna be in for it later. He grinned at the camera, posing with his friends before he heard heels click quickly up to him. He felt his skin turn warm and nerves prick his skin at the familiar sound.

“Sorry! This sweet reporter had so many questions and I answered them all — she seemed nice, y’know?” you ranted, adjusting your dress and moving closer to Joshua and smiling. His heartbeat picked up, blush deepening on his face as he heard Frankie chuckle at Y/N’s words.

“Y/N L/N, you are too precious.”

The after party was wild.

You never did get used to seeing random famous people walk up to you and congratulate you or compliment you on how great you were in the show. Their words rendered you into a sputtering, blushing mess of ‘thank yous’ and ‘I love you and everything you do, thank you so much.’

You practically lost it when you saw Finn Wolfhard there. Why as he there? You didn’t know, but you weren’t complaining.

“I’ve never seen so many famous people in one place,” you muttered to Sofia, who only shook her head.

“Me neither. Oh my God, I don’t even know why they all came,” Olivia was almost as giddy as you, pointing out ( literally ) every celebrity there.

“Pointing’s rude,” Matt commented alongside the rest of you, and you glared at him.

“The only thing keeping you from not freaking out is the open bar.”

“Being 21 comes with its perks,” he retorted with a smile. “At least I’m not Frankie or Larry. Their living their lives at the bar,” Matt pointed his drink to the nearby bar, where Frankie and Larry were talking animatedly to Joshua. Joshua — who was way too sober compared to any of them — was only grinning widely while Frankie made crazy hand gestures. He turned towards the rest of you, eyes widening once they met yours, and he immediately turned away.

You could hear the others laugh at his reaction, Sofia bumping your hip playfully to get you to snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“He’s whipped,” Sofia remarked with a laugh, making your face a deep red at her words.

“For who?” you managed, looking at your cast mates. They were all gaping at you, almost incredulous at your unawareness towards social cues.

“What do you mean for who?”

Joshua looked back at you and the others, eyes lingering on your form as you looked at the others with furrowed brows. A fond smile appeared on his face just at the sight of you, but the spell you put him under broke the moment Frankie clapped him on the back.

“Ow!”

“Do something!” Larry motioned wildly to you, eyes wide for emphasis. “You’ve been drooling over her since she first walked into set!”

“Have not!” Joshua fired back, making Frankie snort.

“Have too!” Frankie laughed out, voice loud against the bass boosted music. “Look; she’s terrible at reading cues. The eyes you’re making towards her?” Frankie tutted, shaking his head in shame. “Not working other than for your very dear cast mates. So,” he motioned to you yet again, and when Joshua turned to look at you, you were already looking at him.

Sofia and Olivia were whispering in your ear, something that Joshua could make out thanks to the music. But you looked unsure, your eyes darting to Matt while he smiled encouragingly. Julia and Dara walked up to them, their eyes widening when Sofia explained everything to them, and they too started telling you things with a wide smile. The curiosity was too much.

“Attaboy!” Larry yelled as Joshua stood up, gently making his way past the crowd. Unknown to him, you were doing the same, the encouraging cheers of your friends behind you fueling your confidence and your nerves.

“Excuse me,” you mumbled, pushing past yet another person and accidentally bumping into Joshua, your eyes wide as you looked at him.

“Hey!” Joshua managed, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi,” you breathed out, all confidence now thrown into the wind as you swallowed dryly. “You wanna step out for a bit?”

“Yeah! Yeah, sure,” Joshua murmured, voice going quiet as he felt your hand take his. It felt so natural, your fingers intertwining with his as you led him out of the crowd.

The fenced back kept all the paparazzi away, and you led him outside to the cold LA air. You loved California when it was nighttime; the weather was perfect and the rare instance of stars was breathtaking.

Your hand was still holding his as you walked out. The music became muffled by the sliding glass doors, and you led him to a swinging bench. You looked up at the few stars that hung over head, the waning moon accompanying them in the sky. You let out a small exhale, a breathy, “wow,” leaving your lips.

“It’s pretty, huh?” you murmured to Joshua, your eyes set on the glowing moon. The moonlight hit your face perfectly, making you look like an angel on earth.

Joshua hummed, eyes on you as he nodded his head. “It’s beautiful.”

You looked at him, face blooming red when you saw him looking at you. He was talking about you. “Nice one,” you forced out behind the want to cheer and thank the world.

Nice one? Was that all you could manage?

“Sorry. I meant thanks. I dunno.” You gazed down at your heels, silently cursing yourself for your own words.

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest at your reaction, his own face red. “You know,” Joshua managed through his nerves, “I thought you were gorgeous when you walked into set.”

You didn’t look at him, but your eyes widened.

“Yeah. That’s kinda why I tripped when I walked over to introduce myself. It’s also why I kinda avoided you for a few days because I couldn’t believe I tripped.” Joshua sighed, his confession coming out like a ramble that he couldn’t stop.

“I guess you could say I fell for you,” he joked, and that was what made you look up at him with a grin.

“You really had to make a pun out of it?” you asked with a laugh, the sound alone making his heart skip a beat.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow. And you know you love my jokes,” Joshua remarked, making you scoff and roll your eyes with a beaming smile.

You put your head on his shoulder, the action making him grin like a lovestruck fool. “You’re lucky I like you, Bassett,” you said softly, thumb swiping lightly over his hand. “For me, I think it was when I caught you stealing leftovers at 3 AM while I was trying to do the same.”

You heard him laugh at your words, and you peered up at him. Joshua looked back down at you, the blushes on your cheeks matching. The moment almost seemed too perfect, as if it had fallen out of an oddly detailed WattPad book and into your lives. You weren’t complaining.

You leaned up, and he leaned down. Your lips met in a soft kiss, and you swore you could hear your friends cheer.

—

TAGS: @tomshufflepuff, @myrandom-fandomlife, @softpeteparker, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo, @allaroundaddict, @cherrydolan

[maealbert]

COMING UP!!!

So I might work on some writings tomorrow before my friend comes to take photos of my puppets.

Up first will be:

Sleepless Nights - Spencer Reid x Daughter x Reader (fluff, sad)

Then after that I am in the process of:

The Liaison P8.

[dyns33]

The Devil’s Lawyer 2

Part 2 of Matt Murderdock x Nice Lawyer Reader. Part 1 here 

They didn't talk about the kiss.

To be honest, they mostly didn't because Y/N was trying to avoid Matthew Murdock at all costs. It was not easy.

He was always at the courthouse, waiting to greet her. He would meet her 'by chance' in the street. He would come at the office to talk about business. But nothing else. It was kind of nice of him, if he was capable of being nice.

And she was sure he came multiples times in her flat when she was not here or asleep. But he didn't prepare breakfast again for her.

A shame, he was a good cook. And a good kisser.

No, Y/N didn't want to think about that.

Foggy didn't ask. Well, he clearly wanted to ask, but he knew better.

Don't mess with Matthew Murdock. Number one rule.

He only wanted to know if everything was okay. Which was a bit the same thing. If she was okay, than the kiss was okay, and Murdock was not going to kill them all. That was all he needed to know.

Yet, even if he was mostly on her side, Foggy liked to tease her a bit with that from time to time. Especially when he wanted something.

           "You're boyfriend is here."

           "Not my boyfriend."

           "Can you do the Rodriguez case ?"

           "I already told you that I was too busy."

           "I'll do the Brooke case. Against your boyfriend. So you won't have to be near him."

           "... Fine. And still not my boyfriend."

           "By the way, we need to call Karen to tell her we broke the coffee machine."

           "You broke the coffee machine. You call her."

           "Oh your boyfriend is still here, we should say 'hi' to him."

           "I'll call her."

Karen was mad of course, and Karen didn't know about the kiss and Foggy being a little shit about it, so Y/N accepted to buy a new one with her own money.

Difficult to know how since he was too far away to hear anything, but Murdock heard about it and a very expensive coffee machine was delivered to the office in the afternoon.

While drinking what he called the 'best coffee he ever had', Foggy decided that even if he was creepy and dangerous, her boyfriend was not so bad at the end.

Y/N refused to use the machine and bought her own.

She received a sad emoji face on her phone. How old was Matt Murdock exactly ?

And how did he know everything ?!

Once, Y/N asked Nelson if Murdock was not just the Kingpin's lawyer, but the Kingpin himself. Foggy made a face. She had her answer. They never talked about it again.

They didn't want to mess with Matthew Murdock.

That was with this new knowledge that they got another case related to the mafia. Karen didn't want it, Foggy believed everything would be fine, since they were just going to lose again anyway, and Y/N just wanted to know if the Devil would take care of it.

After confirmation that it was indeed Murdock who would do the pleading, she took the case.

Ready to fight. And win.

In the courthouse, Matt offered her a happy smile before sitting next to his client. As always, it was a game to him, a game that he was playing alone, but he still liked to let others thinking they had a chance. He wanted to know what they would do.

Remembering the last trial, Y/N let Foggy talk first, to observe the jury.

Once again, some of them had been paid. It was awfully obvious. But this time most of the people who were not listening were scared.

Meaning they could still change their minds. If they decided to listen. If Y/N was able to find the right words to convince them.

It was not much, but it was something. She could work with that.

During the first break, she didn't explain to Foggy what she was going to do. Murdock would hear, somehow. She just asked him to let her speak next and to trust her.

           "... You are not going to do something dangerous, right ?"

           "Define 'dangerous'."

           "You are not going to mess with... You know who. You are not going to irritate him."

           "I can't promise you that."

Foggy let her speak. It was not simple to find the right words to reassure the jury. God knows what Murdock promised to do to them. To their loved ones.

But she talked about justice. She talked about hope. She told them to not be afraid, that if this man was falling, all the others would fall next, and they won' t have to be afraid of anything again. She talked with her heart, and she meant every words. She believed them. For ten minutes, she didn't stop.

Now it was up to them to believe it. Y/N saw some eyes shining. Maybe it worked, a bit.

She didn't dare to look at Matt. She could tell he was staring. He was always staring with his non working eyes, even when she went back to her sit. Foggy gently tapped her on the shoulder.

           "Even if we don't win, it was beautiful." he told her.

The jury left to deliberate. The last time, it wasn't really long, since they already knew what they were going to vote.

This time, it took two hours. Y/N's heart was beating really fast.

When the woman announced the verdict, she almost faint. She could see Foggy moving next to her and taking her in his arms, but not hear what he was saying.

           "The jury finds the defendant guilty."

They won. For real. Murdock was certainly pretty pissed right now, but she didn't turn to look. He followed his clients who was taken by policemen. According to Foggy, he was odd. A bit off. Acting like a robot. But now he was gone, so it was not important.

A victory !

Karen called them to say they needed to celebrate all together. It was huge.

Of course they ended at Josie's. The beer was shit but they didn't care, they were too happy for that. They didn't want to think about the assassins who might be waiting for them at the office or at home. Or that the mob boss was certainly going to find a way out of jail soon. They wanted to enjoy this moment.

It didn't last long.

           "May I join you ?"

           "... Murdock."

           "Hello Karen. Long time no see. You seems to avoid me, I'm sad about that. Foggy, you were good today, congratulations. And Y/N... Dear Y/N. You were... Magnificent. I knew. The moment you started talking, I knew it was lost for us. I would like to say that I am impressed, but I already knew that you were very talented so it's not really a surprise."

           "Thank you Matt." she said politely. "And yes, you can join you, I guess."

           "You're a darling. Next drinks are on me."

It would have be stupid to ask him to leave. And after several drinks, Matt was not that bad. Not that bad at all. Foggy laughed at his jokes and Karen blushed when he flirted with her. As if they were all friends and not sharing beers with the Devil. The Kingpin.

They only started to remember that he was dangerous and that they more or less humiliated him publicly when it was time to go home. Foggy proposed to take Karen and Y/N's to their place safely, but Matt raised his hand.

           "It's a nice feeling but a waste of time. You can take care of Miss Page. I'll drive Y/N."

           "You're blind."

           "I have a driver Foggy, don't be ridiculous. Now you can go."

           "... Y/N ?"

Foggy didn't move, waiting for her to say something. He didn't want to leave her alone with Murdock. At the same time, he didn't want to die.

           "It will be fine Fog. I'll see you tomorrow."

           "Promise ?"

           "Of course Foggy." answered Matthew while taking Y/N's arm. "Good night."

In the car, they didn't talk, the silence being a bit awkward but not tense. Y/N was hoping it was a good sign. She really didn't know what he was going to do. But he more or less told Nelson that she was not going to die so that was that.

As Y/N guessed, when they arrived in front of her place, she followed her out of the car, smiling like the Cheshire Cat while she was going to the door.

           "... You want to come in ?"

           "So nice of you to propose darling, I'll love to."

Not taking her for a fool, Matt had the decency to not act like it was the first time he was coming, putting his coat on the sofa and joining her in the kitchen when she was making some tea.

He complimented it, even if it was not as great as the one he had in Japan. She didn't ask about that.

           "You seems a bit nervous darling."

           "I'm 'darling' now ?"

           "Why not ? Aren't you a darling ?"

           "I was not before. So now I'm wondering if it's a good thing or not."

           "What do you think ?" he purred, coming closer.

She didn't move. She was not a coward.

           "You really appreciated my indictment ?"

           "Darling. When I said you were magnificent, I meant it. It was hard to stay calm and not move from my seat. The more you were speaking, the more it was difficult."

           "You wanted to jump on me to make me shut up ?"

           "You can put it that way. But I don't think you really understand what I mean darling."

He moved again, his breath on her neck, his nose on her cheek, his hand on her hips and his... Oh. He meant this.

Like a wild animal in rut, he started to smell her, shaking dangerously, his mouth moving near hers. But he didn't kiss her. He waited. Patient. Intense.

He had remove his glasses. Y/N never saw him without his glasses. She knew he couldn't see her but his eyes... They were staring into her soul. And she wanted to fall into them.

A moan escaped her. And it was all it took.

Matthew Murdock was a passionate lover, it was for sure. He didn't care about the broken cups while putting her on the kitchen table. He didn't care about his coat when they moved on the sofa. Y/N had no idea how he was strong enough to care her in the bedroom, and without bumping into any wall.

It was not sweet, but it was not painful. Matt knew what he was doing, as always. And for once, he certainly was not selfish.

One hand around her neck, he didn't leave her lips when she was reaching her climax.

           "Will you work for me ? With me ?" he groaned.

           "No."

           " Do you love me ?"

           "I... I don't know."

           "My good girl. My brave, clever girl."

He let her came, finishing almost at the same time, before falling on her.

With the tiredness and alcohol, Y/N felt asleep right away. At some point, she was sure he talked to her, but she didn't know what he said. She couldn't say if he stayed with her during the night, but the next morning he was gone.

Breakfast was waiting for her in the kitchen where the cups were still on the floor. Matt must have loved this reminiscence, proud of what had happened. Or he was too good to clean up.

After putting the broken pieces in the trash she ate. He sent her a smiling emoji. What a kid.

Foggy hugged her. He didn't ask anything, not even when he saw the marks on her neck.

He stopped with the boyfriend jokes too. He was not sure it was really a joke anymore.

Y/N wasn't sure either. Maybe it was just another game.

But since she was having breakfast every mornings after this day, and Matt was coming in her flat when she was here and awake... It was better to not joke about that.

[marky4l]

without warning / ldh

pairing: Lee Haechan x fem!Reader

There is always a certain breaking point to a habit. For you, it was Haechan and not falling in love. It just happened in the most unorthodox way.

word count: 8.6k

genre: college au, fluff, angst (a little bit)

notes: reader is besties w nomin :)

hi!!! a bit overdue, but happy birthday haechan! also my photoshop crashed so please bear with the banner until i can make one that i enjoy seeing lol hopefully its okay :) ! I hope you like it pleaase leave feedback!

—

You like to pride yourself on the fact that you’ve never played into the mushy love bullshit.

You’re a stark contrast from your best friends, Jeno Lee and Jaemin Na, who, when boiled down to it, are basically a married couple who love to employ plausible deniability. They’re constantly teaming up to tease you/comfort you/set you up on god awful blind dates, and they’re self-proclaimed hopeless romantics. Which means there’s virtually no room for your anti-romantic philosophies in the apartment you share.

No, literally. Your DVDs are all romcoms. Your Netflix list is all Nancy Meyers. Your library is all cheesy romance volumes, overshadowing your preferred type of literature. It’s living hell.

“Are you ready for a date draw?”

“There’s Craig Cruz from my Bio class, Matt Lennox who’s my TA, Brad Aoki from my Spanish elective, Rex Smith from debate club, aaaand Lucas Wong from my football team.” Jeno offers the names to you, and before you can even form a coherent response, Jaemin is quick to follow up.

“Oh, have I got a roster for you. Nathan Davis from Physics, Charles Bass from my golf club, Jason Rodriguez from Creative Writing, and my mentor’s son’s best friend, Mark Lee. He studies in California.”

Jeno and Jaemin have long arranged date draws for you: a night where you pick out the blind date of your dreams, based on their extensive CVs, handpicked by your depressingly single best friends. (Any/every girl they manage to charm is scared off by how early they drop the L bomb.)

From your place propped up on the sofa, you hum contemplatively. Clearly, the two guys are nervous and stressed to see whose recommendation you’re going to pick: it’s always like this on date draw night, because it’s become somewhat of a competition between them to see who’s going to find your soulmate. Half the guys they recommend suck, and the other half, just a little less.

You spoon Chunky Monkey into your mouth. “Moving on to the next round: Lennox, Wong, Bass, Lee. Two even.”

You can’t deny the way you enjoy these biweekly nights of picking out your next date, even if the results are usually poor. They buy you ice cream and popcorn and let you watch something that doesn’t revolve around a couple falling in love in the Midwest/Paris/New York City (you’ve had enough of it.)

You hear noises of triumph as they quickly crumple up the paper resumes they have on your rejections. “Let me hear about Bass first.” Jaemin lets out a small yes! as he pulls up his file on Bass, reading aloud from it.

“Rich, golfer, business major. His philanthropy involves animals, cute baby animals, and he wants to run for mayor of New York one day. Rundown of pros and cons—rich, owns houses in Europe, but we have an unclear visual on his political stance.”

“Does he wear suits and talk like a douche?”

Jaemin’s silence is affirmative, so you follow it up. “Who’s his role model?”

“…Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos. Said it himself on his Facebook biography.”

You gasp.

“God, Jaemin! You can’t just leave that out! What if I picked him?!” You heave a spoonful of Chunky Monkey again. “Gross. Bass, out. Jeno, you’re up.” Jaemin groans, crumpling Charles’ paper and catapulting it into the garbage across the room.

Jeno speaks up, elated. “I’ve got Mark Lee for you. My writing mentor’s son’s best friend. He’s a church guy, but I hear through the vine he’s freaky in the sheets”—at this, you audibly gag and remove your ring to chuck it at him—“and he’s super ambitious. Wants to become a writer, settle down in the city with kids. Voted for Biden, but dislikes Biden—that whole shindig. Con: Soundcloud rapper.”

“Sounds okay,” you grimace, attempting to ignore the last bit, “but is he willing to do this long distance thing? Opposite ends of the country?”

“I was thinking it might be ideal,” Jeno explains. “So you don’t have to face the clinginess all the time.”

“So he’s clingy,” you deadpan. You allow no room for explanation and wave him off. “Jaem, go.”

“Damn it,” curses Jeno under his breath, frustrated. Jaemin is quick to remedy his previous mistake, fast in his talking.

“Lucas Wong, basketball star. 6’0, born in Hong Kong, knows how to cook. Con: kind of a man whore.”

“I don’t slut shame,” you respond, intrigued. “Go on.”

Triumphant, he proceeds. “He’s delicious, man. I mean, I’m saying this so honestly right now. He’s also super caring, a Chem Engineering major, and constantly shares his decent political opinions online.”

You sit up. “Oh, my God. He’s perfect.”

“Right?!” Jaemin’s smile is wide and he’s so, so close to reaching his victory. It’s cut off rudely by Jeno’s knowing scoff.

“Please. Jaem, tell her the real con.”

“Real con?” You quirk a brow, your head cocking to the side. “Jaemin Na, what is the real con?”

He falters, spluttering. “It’s—it’s nothing. A minor setback.”

You spoon the last of your Ben & Jerry’s into your mouth. “Now, Jaemin!”

“He has a girlfriend,” he says fretfully, refusing to meet your sharp gaze. At this, you burst into a loud yell, throwing your hands up in the air. “What the hell, Jaem?! Second straw much?”

He hides his face from view, but you persist. “Jaemin! You were going to turn me into a homewrecker, you enabler! You should be asha—”

“Tell ‘em,” Jeno says with a scornful smile. You turn on him immediately, though, eyes fiery.

“Oh, like you didn’t know and chose to use it against him so you could win today’s date draw. You make me sick! Both of you. The next five date draws are cancelled.”

The words are uttered with a vile, ugly tone that sends your best friends into a downward spiral. It’s evident immediately, what with the way their faces fall instantly and Jeno’s is the epitome of the world flummoxed. They quickly turn to each other, vexation in their eyes as they begin to swat at each other.

Being of similar height, the swatting quickly intensifies, but Jeno’s tendency to poorly control his strength results in Jaemin hitting back twice as hard.

“—I was gonna remedy that before you ruined i—” Poke.

“How do you remedy an ongoing, committed relationship—?” Hit.

“I have my ways, Lee!” Swat.

“If you just let me get to my final recommendation I would’ve won, Na!” Slap, smack, strike.

You tsk disdainfully, walking away to dispose of your Chunky Monkey. Considering the kitchen isn’t too far from the living room, your ears quickly pick up on the progression of their fight: you hear more chaos, then it fades away. It takes you five minutes to drink a glass of water and wash your spoon, and when you return, they’re cuddled up to each other on the sofa watching Me Before You.

“Insane,” you mutter dismissively.

“No non-romance for you,” says Jeno, through a mouthful of popcorn. “Rejecting our picks.”

“That’s the angle you took? 2 versus 1? Instead of you and I teaming up against Jaemin for condoning homewrecking?”

He ignores you.

But you’re blissfully unaware that the events of tonight would lead to you meeting the guy who would reach far beyond the standard set by Lucas Wong, your one that got away, so you shut your bedroom door behind you and work instead.

—

Jeno and Jaemin’s cardinal rule when it comes to date draws is to not interact with any male presence in a flirtatious matter for at least a week to purge yourself of any potential matches, so that you can fully immerse yourself in the experience.

Knowing date draws happen every two weeks, this allows you only one week to fully appreciate any cute stranger in your life. Knowing that, this basically declines your flirting skills to a good 6. You’re well aware of the pretty privilege card you hold, so it’s all you have, because your smooth talking skills have well diminished.

So here you are, perched on a bench, staring at the opposite one intently. Sat on it is a tall, and handsome guy reading—oh, God—Arendt?

The grip you have on your Journalism supplementary book turns your knuckles white, your mind struggling to think of something to say. You curse under your breath as your body gets up on its own accord, your body walking to him and offering a stuffy smile.

“Hello,” you giggle, breathy.

“Hi,” he says, and you melt inside. He must be some sort of dreamboat.

You take a seat beside him, hesitant but spurred on by his smile. You introduce yourself quickly, and he tells you his name is Hyunjin, and that he’s a Humanities major. You sit in tense, but comfortable silence, intermittent smiles and hums of affirmation filling the void of the conversation.

“Are you a fan of Aren—”

“You’re hot,” you say in one breath. What the hell.

“Oh,” says Hyunjin dumbly. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. You are. So gorgeous.”

He smiles, politely now instead of warmly, and makes up a shit excuse to save himself, walking away quickly. You groan inwardly at your mishap, slamming your textbook against your forehead in frustration.

This is one of many reasons you detest date draws.

—

You make your anger clear to Jeno and Jaemin by refusing to cook them Friday dinner. All of you can cook fairly well, but perhaps because of your natural affinity with a cookbook, you’re magical at it. So, every Friday is reserved for your amazing cuisine and the rest of the week is devoted to takeout and the others’ subpar cooking skills.

“You promised you’d cook us bibimbap,” gripes Jaemin. “Jeno and I miss home. How do you expect us to survive in a city populated by white people?!”

“Well, find a Korean restaurant and order a bowl for yourselves,” you say cuttingly. “I’m still upset over the entire date draw catastrophe from two days ago. I tried flirting with a cute guy today and, thanks to your cardinal rule, failed.”

“But you make good bibimbap,” sobs Jeno theatrically, ignoring the latter part of your sentiment.

You narrow your eyes and swat them both with your textbook. “I’m dying alone with my eggs shriveled up, and I want you both to know it’s all your fault.”

You tell them the full tale of your foiled coquetry from earlier that day, and they stifle guffaws behind their clenched fists. You hit them again, for good measure.

“You love us.”

“I hate you,” you say sharply.

—

“I love you guys. I’m serious,” you say delightedly, scooping more frozen yogurt into your mouth. You’re spending your Saturday in the Upper West, shifting through ice cream parlors and corner cafes and halal delis and watching Jeno show off his skateboarding skills. You’d stopped at a small frozen yogurt joint where you found the cups to be way too overpriced, and upon your defeat, instead found that an extended February 14 promo meant a couple gets one cup for free.

The plan was crafted ingeniously: you and Jeno would hug subtly to show that you were a couple, playing into the heteronormative bias of the cashier, and get two cups with unlimited toppings for the price of one.

However, in the middle of your planning, the shifts changed and the new cashier found Jaemin and Jeno to appear more lovey-dovey, revising the plan on the spot.

“Very cute. Love is love,” the middle-aged woman says. Jeno nods, smiling and holding Jaemin closer, despite the poorly disguised grimace on his face. You play along, a stuffy smile on yours.

So it goes that you get one for yourself and the other two fight over theirs, wooden spoons clacking against each other as they fight over the yogurt.

“Love you both, so so much,” you say happily. “So much.”

“Real quick, does this mean date draws are back o—”

“No,” you retort.

“Yeah. That checks.”

You glare at the mere suggestion, averting your attention back to your yogurt. Humiliation still courses through you, blazing your every thought with your fiasco at the park. Hyunjin is probably having a permanent freakout over your foolishness, and in your frantic attempt to pin the blame on somebody other than yourself, the fault falls on your two best friends.

Not even frozen yogurt can help it. But it’s getting there.

—

Your designated bench at the park is yours for a reason. It captures the breeze perfectly, and the sunlight filters just right through the trees overhead. You get a good view of the buildings, and the nearest exit gives you just a ten minute walk to your apartment. Granted, it’s “your bench” from 2PM to 6PM, since any other hour you’re either home or at class.

Yours anyway. Blissfully empty. Except it’s 1:15PM and somebody’s sitting on it.

“Hey—do you mind?” You gesture to the empty side of the bench and the guy sitting waves you off with a polite nod. Smiling calmly, you take a seat and draw out your study materials, getting to work on your latest news piece.

The sun is high and the park gets the brunt of it, heat surging through the walkways. Damn early classes. Now it’s too hot. You pout in mild frustration but continue anyway.

You’re in the middle of typing out your concluding paragraph, and your mind is in the middle of thinking of dinner, froyo, and the ducks at the lake altogether, when your train of thought is tersely cut off.

“Hey, aren’t you the girl who flirted with that guy on that bench? Like, four days ago?”

Fear floods your body and renders you frozen, your head inching bit by bit to face your certified day ruiner. Your eyes land on a guy about your age, nose buried in a Murakami book. He quirks a brow, beguiled by your sudden reaction. “So. Are you?”

Your jaw drops open, mouth spluttering for something logical to say. “Er, yeah.”

He laughs loudly, an unabashed guffaw leaving his mouth. “Woah. That sucked.”

“Did it really?” Your woeful tone catches his attention, his head whipping in your direction.

“Yeah—I mean, I’m not trying to insult you or anything. But I—”

“No, it’s okay,” you muse. “I’m just getting really bad at flirting.” You turn to him, a polite smile on your lips.

He smiles back. “Hyunjin’s an acquaintance of mine, you know. If you want another chance. He liked you.”

Your heart beats impossibly fast. Dangling in front of you is your chance at redemption, a date, possibly getting laid, and above all, proving to Jeno and Jaemin that you do not need their godforsaken date draws to find love.

You’re halfway through this epiphany when you realize—

“Who are you?” You blurt out, confused. “Sorry. I mean, what’s your name? I just met you and it feels like you already know me.”

“That’s ‘cause I do—I mean, when you flirted with Hyunjin, I was just over there”—he points at a nearby bench—“and then after it happened, I just saw your name being dropped on the groupchat.”

“I was made into groupchat material,” you fret. “That’s like, the worst of the worst.”

“Not really—it was talked about for five minutes tops and then somebody mentioned a deadline, so. I��m Haechan, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say simply. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. I was just. It sucked.”

“Sucked is an understatement,” says Haechan through gritted teeth. “Anyway, if you want a second date, I’d be happy to arrange that.”

You bite your lip, weighing the pros and cons in your head. You could earn yourself a new boyfriend and turn the flirting affliction into a meet cute story, but it could also go to shit. You could get laid, but who knows if he took some sort of celibacy vow. You don’t need a boyfriend, but you desperately need to prove your two best friends wrong.

“I’m in,” you say. “It has to be the best date ever. I’m talking dinner, a walk, a sports game, that whole thing.”

“Are you suggesting I help you arrange that?”

Roping a stranger into your dating agenda was definitely not on your list of things to try in your junior year.

But, well. “I’m graciously asking you to.”

—

Haechan Lee, you quickly learn, is an energetic, bubbly, class clown-y Econ major. He laughs at that’s what she said jokes and doubles over every time he sees the numbers 69 and 420, especially if he sees them consecutively (not hard, given the city’s size.)

You learn over the course of three coffee outings that he takes all his coffee with three extra shots of espresso. (He tries to make you freak out using this fact, but you combat it with Jaemin’s all time record of eight shots.)

You find out he always separates the corn bits in fried rice, and that he’s an oversharer. It’s obvious he is, considering you’d known all this prior information in the course of just seven days.

Maybe you just like to observe a little more, too, but that’s besides the point.

“I’m thinking you attend a Yankees game, dinner, then a Hudson boat ride. Hyunjin likes that stuff. He won’t admit it, he wants people to think he’s a rugged New York man, but he likes to get fancy. I’m saying this like we’re best friends, but. You get it. Boat, sports, the works,” he says through a mouthful of pad thai.

“I’m thinking you chew your food before talking,” you comment pointedly, and he nods, swallowing. You continue. “That’s nice, but I’m broke and I’m not willing to spend my existing money on a date. I said extravagant…ly cheap.”

“Boo,” he laughs. “I could get you Yankees tickets for free. Then…you split dinner and you rent the boat.”

“Perfect,” you say victoriously. Then. “This is weird. This is full on Pavlov-ing.”

“Mmm, no. Pavlov was the dog guy. Conditioning? Sound? Yeah, er, this is Cyrano-ing.”

You nod in agreement. “Nerd”—you gesture to him—“hot dude”—you gesture to yourself—“nerd helps me get the hotter girl. AKA Hyunjin.”

“If I’m going to be branded a nerd, this isn’t going to work out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

—

18 days until: JUNE 8 DATE DAY!!!!

You smile amusedly at the reminder ping on your phone that Haechan had set up for you. When you look up, the smile is quickly extinguished by Jaemin and Jeno’s trenchant expressions, piercing right through you.

“What are you smiling at?” asks Jaemin with faux nonchalance.

“A TikTok,” you fib easily. “Something about the whole Paeka issue.”

The conversation switches easily to the issue you’d mentioned, and soon Jeno and Jaemin forget you had even smiled at your screen, playing Call of Duty on their Xbox and leaving you to your own devices.

U busy? You read when you’re done downing a packet of Caprisun.

No, you type back. See u.

You’re well acquainted with Haechan at this point, having seen him regularly over the course of the past week. You’re growing less and less unused to the sight of him on the bench you’d previously branded as your own.

“Hello, Cyrano,” he says with a cunning smile. “Since we’re both free, I thought you’d like to know more about Hyunjin. Also, when I’m with you, I get free food because you get hungry so much.”

“It’s easy to fall into the quirky cafe temptations in the city,” you remark. “Isn’t the date supposed to make me get to know him?”

“Yeah, but remember—this is all for Jeno and Jaemin.”

You’d established your objective for this entire master plan of a date three days ago. As handsome as Hyunjin is, you know you’ll probably find some minor flaw about him and fixate on that. So, your motive is to charm him into maybe a fling-sized relationship so Jeno and Jaemin would lay off your back.

Working? So far. Ish.

“Alright, so Hyunjin Hwang, HH, HHJ, HJ, Jinnie, Jin, Hyunnie, he has lots of names ‘cause he’s popular. Philosophy major, writing legend, blazer wearer. Smartass. Hipster.”

“So every guy then,” you deadpan with an enigmatic smile.

“See, you get it!” He sits up a little, “For that, I’d like a cup of coffee.”

—

You spend the next week and a half bent over your master plan Google doc, which Haechan covertly names SEX TOY RECOMMENDATIONS :P under your name. Really, not at all infuriating. You find it funny, though, and it stays like that the entire time.

On the first day, Haechan sends you a Starbucks drink. Scrawled on it is the name Dildo, and you groan and hide it with your own Sharpie, lest one of your best friends find it in the disposal.

On the second day, Haechan introduces you to his dog. His height and his build gives you an impression that his dog would be, maybe, a bulldog or a Lab. Instead he approaches your usual park bench with a tiny, tiny Pomeranian in his hands, attached to a pink leash.

“This is Genghis Olaf,” he states proudly, his eyes crinkling with his smile of adoration.

“She’s very c—” you cut yourself off with your own chortle, attempting uselessly to hide it behind your sweater-clad hand. “She’s cute, I swear,” you breathe between bouts of laughter. “Just. Her name is what?”

“Genghis Olaf,” he says seriously. “A very nice name for my strong dog.”

“She looks so tiny, though,” you coo, but she bites deeply into your finger when you attempt to pet her. Haechan’s laugh rings treacherously in your ears.

On the third day, you watch Annabelle: Creation on Netflix Party. He makes big talk of not being scared, but half the time his camera is shielded by his blanket.

On the fourth day, you admit your unabashed love for Taylor Swift’s music, and Haechan admits his for One Direction. You sing Dear John and replace the “green eyes” lyric with “brown”, and it makes Haechan blush. He sings Drag Me Down and matches Harry’s high note.

—

On the fifth day, your meeting place deviates from one section of the park to another, to avoid the spookily overcast weather.

“It’s not so rainy here,” rejoices Haechan, doing a small happy dance. You roll your eyes and sit beside him.

You make it a good ten minutes with your laptops open working both on Hyunjin and your own schoolwork before you notice droplets of water growing more and more frequent on the spreadsheet you’d pulled up.

“Oh, shit,” you curse, wiping it hastily and stuffing it into your bag. Haechan follows suit, but the nearest exit is a ways to go.

“Could you run any faster?!” You wail, covering your head with your tote bag, to no avail. Your hair gets the brunt of it, and so does your black tee, since the mild drizzling intensifies into heavy rain within seconds.

“Sorry I’m trying to protect my phone!” He cries back, maneuvering between garbage cans and other people in your way who have actual umbrellas.

You make it out, though, after a chaotic five minutes, and you’re one subway ride from your apartment. Haechan’s is way nearer, though, so you part, both absolutely soaked.

Before you do, he tugs a dry shirt out of his bag. “You might get sick. God knows what kind of bacteria you contract with wet cloth in the subway. Maybe even murder evidence.” He plays it off but your heart blooms with gratitude, taking it.

“Thanks, dumbass.”

You skip the sixth day and meet on the seventh.

You’d officially grown used to each other’s company, nearing three weeks of knowing each other. You swap your usual park bench for a cafe, but on the cab ride there, Haechan constantly changes his mind.

It’s Indian first, then Thai, then American, then Korean. Then Chinese. Then coffee.

“We’ve been in this cab for ages,” you whisper-yell. “Have some shame!” But he doesn’t, persistently switching the destination. It turns into a minor roadtrip around the Upper East. You pull out your laptop to work on a paper.

It only stops when Haechan abruptly yells for it to, so he can puke his guts out. Well. At least you know he’s carsick now.

—

“Yours, hers, mine,” Jaemin says, gesturing to the folded piles of fresh laundry. “She’s never even home anymore, lately. I miss her bibimbap.”

“Could you just get to folding the clothes so I can play Overwatch with Sungie?”

“You don’t care that our best friend is never home?!” Jaemin’s voice is saturated with offense and betrayal. “She’s probably out partying.”

“You mean having fun, like people our age should,” corrects Jeno sternly. “Don’t be so worried and hand me that gray shirt.”

Jaemin grumbles, but does so, despite the reluctance in his actions. “Who knows what she’s mixing herself with out there? New York is a danger zone. Scaffolding is lethal enough.”

Jeno folds up the tee with an amused scowl on his face. “You know, she’s having fun, doing schoolwork, and if she’s happy, we’re happy. That’s how best friends operate.”

Across him, Jaemin pouts. He knows this is true, and beneath the petty feelings he harbors, he’s genuinely happy that you’re having fun. “I guess,” he grouches. “But I hope she’s not sad we cancelled date draws.”

“Temporary cancellation,” Jeno says. “Also, I doubt she’s sad. She insisted we cancel it. She ordered the cancellation, so. Shirt.” He chucks the folded tee into Jaemin’s pile.

“Touche,” sighs the latter, “but I gu—hey, what? This isn’t mine, dipshit.”

“Oh,” Jeno says. “It’s mine, then.”

“Wh—it’s not yours, either.” He unfolds it to reveal the faded, bleached pattern of the Sex Pistols logo, and they squint.

“Not mine,” says Jeno quietly. “Guess it’s hers.” He tosses it onto your pile, but Jaemin snatches it before it lands.

“No way it’s hers,” he comments, inspecting it. “She’s never worn this, and it’s not branded, but she hasn’t gone thrifting in a while. She did last week, and this wasn’t in her haul.”

“So? Some band geek’s laundry got mixed up with ours,” Jeno says, but Jaemin’s quicker to come to a different conclusion.

“Are you kidding? It’s the third week of the month. She got it washed herself at the laundromat self service. This is from our apartment. Is this what you think—are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jeno nods slowly.

“Say it, on three,” says Jaemin. “Go!”

“A guy is living in our ceiling!”

“She snuck someone into our house!”

“She snuck—yeah, that’s way more likely.”

—

On the eighth day, Haechan texts you to meet him at an entirely different part of the park. You get there, confusion written all over your face, and find him sprawled across the grass, denim-clad legs splattered with yellow paint and glitter.

“Hello,” you say, “I’m not at all confused by what I’ve walked into.”

“In exchange for being your Cyrano nerd,” he begins theatrically, “I only ask one thing.”

“All the cups of coffee I’ve bought you?”

“I only ask several things,” he remedies. “Coffee and your help with my little sister’s crafts project.”

You eye the expanse of white canvas on the grass, untouched by Haechan’s skills, or, rather, his lack thereof. You roll your eyes.

“Okay. What do you need to paint?”

“Anything yellow,” he says. “New York preschool art teachers are super hipster, so their assignments are graded on a college basis. I’m half-joking.”

“What makes you think I want to help you?”

“Your date thinks so.”

“I suck at crafts, Haechan.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Now, paint!”

You take the brush and get to work, dirtying yourself up in the process. By the end of it, you’ve crafted a kiddy-sized abstract masterpiece, dizzyingly yellow and sunny and bright. It’s just a bunch of brush strokes and fingerprints in a vast array of yellow, but you’re sure it’s a show stopper, since Haechan’s little sister is a five-year-old.

“If your sister is stamped a prodigy after this, I get a portion of her earnings.”

You beam down at Haechan, but you miss the way his gaze lingers on you for just a second, smearing a brushful of canary paint on his face.

A second.

Considering he’s the sole reason you talk to Haechan, you don’t remember the last time you talked about Hyunjin. You don’t mind, though, running along the open grass while flinging all sorts of shades of sun onto Haechan’s face.

—

“Honeys, I’m home!” You yell, dusting dried paint off the hem of your jeans. You deposit your keys at the entrance and make your way to the kitchen, sliding your shoes off. “What’s for dinner?”

“Thai, with a side of betraya—oomph!” You can’t catch Jaemin’s last word, Jeno’s elbow hitting his gut before he can enunciate it.

“Thai, with a side of biryani. Sounds perfect, you two,” you swoon with an appreciative smile. “Bibimbap next week, I promise!”

“Yup,” Jeno says through a strained breath. “Go get changed, you!”

You shrug off the odd behavior and follow suit, shucking your clothes off once you’re alone. You spot a neat, folded pile of fresh laundry at the foot of your bed and stop in your tracks upon seeing the familiar gray one atop it.

You touch it, a little hesitant. Jaemin and Jeno must’ve seen this, then. Your heart races inexpainably quick at the possibilty that the insinuation would be that you were dating the owner of the shirt.

But then again, Jeno and Jaemin probably couldn’t care less. You shrug indifferently, chucking the tee into your bag for Haechan’s taking tomorrow and walking back into the kitchen.

“Where’s the biryani?” You ask, confused, upon seeing its absence at the table. Jeno shrugs and mumbles some excuse about it being unavailable, and Jaemin grumbles a quiet agreement.

You eat in silence for a while. “How’s class, you two?”

“My professor,” says Jaemin, cutting off what Jeno had already opened his mouth to say, “was revealed to be in an affair this morning. It’s wild, honestly.” He rolls up the sleeves of his mint sweater. You gape through a mouthful of khao pad, brows raised. “Do tell,” you say simply, intrigued.

“Well, he was happily married to his wives—wife, his wife, and then he turned and had a nasty affair and now he can’t even face the betrayal he committed. Neither can the wife,” he says quickly, his voice laced with truth and hurt.

You nod slowly. “So. That’s it? No sordid mistress? Murder ploy? Money?”

Jaemin shakes his head, pouting. “None. Just plain”—he stares right at you—“betrayal.”

You nod again, and then your thoughts are full of khao pad.

—

Haechan picking up your dry cleaning, paying for three cabs, and accompanying you on three coffee runs is the only cause of your current predicament. Not debt—you’re not so unfortunate there, thankfully—but something much worse. See, you liked Haechan. You’d spent so much time around him it was dizzying, and he was funny and a great friend.

Which meant you’d do any minor favor for him. Which means—this. It means this. And that is how you find yourself seated on a neon green beanbag listening to a roster of Soundcloud rappers on a JBL speaker.

The room is lit only by a string of pink LED lights and the light emanating from the PC setup on the desk, shades of blue and purple radiating from it.

There are teddy bears strewn around the room, almost as many as there are Nike shoes that look extremely obscure and/or expensive. This is a very specific brand of person you’re dealing with. You take a drag from the joint in your mouth, eyeing the other contraband drugs on the desk but ignoring them for the sake of yourself.

Who else would own this kind of room—closed off, dark, lit by neon illumination only? You don’t need to look far. Spray painted in a glow in the dark green on the opposite wall is the name—

“Yangyang!” Haechan hollers when the former finally swings the door open. “Thought you’d never return. You were gone for, like, an hour.”

True enough, he was. He’d apparently left to fetch his wallet in his friend’s dorm, but never came back, granting you and Haechan plenty of time to plan for Hyunjin—well, talk, actually.

“I’ve gotta go again. Sorry, you two. Enjoy the ganja. Haechan, don’t leave yet. You have that favor you owe me!”

He slams the door shut again and you stifle a laugh. “I’ll get going if you don’t mind.”

“No,” he pleads. “We can exploit the weed and the air conditioning and everything.”

“Fine,” you say, because you weren’t planning on leaving at all. “Let’s plan.”

“Nice. Hey, you know I used to own a bear just like that?” He deviates from your suggested subject, probably unconsciously, but you find yourself being grateful for it. You follow his finger to the bear leaning against the wall opposite you, a huge brown one.

You hum. “Did you also spray paint red Xs over the eyes?”

“Yes, and on the genitals,” he says with a loud laugh. “God, no. My mom was always iffy about that stuff. We grew up well. Here in the city, I mean. Brownstone and everything. My little sister still has that life, but…yeah.” He dismisses the topic and you nod.

“I get it,” you say, leaning back and taking a drag. “Well, I don’t, but. I do.”

“Yeah. I miss my mom, and my dad hates my guts, so that’s that. I just find all the solace of the world in my sister.”

“She loves you, Haech,” you say quietly, a small smile on your face. He chuckles.

“I know she does. Me, though—I’m never good with that stuff. Gotta practice saying it somehow.” He turns to you, quiet. Then.

“I love you.”

The world slows, time melting into an indistinguishable, homogenous blob of pink and green and weed. You feel like you just ingested one of the smiley faces on Yangyang’s desk, if you’re honest. You open your mouth to respond but your eyes catch on the way his mouth is slowly curving into a smile, and you lose yourself in it. Your body bubbles in confusion and indifference—why the fuck are you so affected?

He grins. “So? Sounded genuine? I hate you, by the way. Can’t have you getting the wrong idea.”

Then the world ticks back into normal speed, a haze of lights and teddy bears, and you regain composure. “No. You sounded like a Republican apologizing.”

You brush him off, but the thought of him plagues you all the way home.

—

You dogsit Genghis Olaf for the first time on the tenth day of your planning.

You’d rather not talk about it.

—

Last edited 12 days ago stares cunningly back at you as you open the starkingly empty Google doc of your date plan. You tsk at the lack of progress, but inwardly, you don’t mind so much.

Your past weeks with Haechan have been busy, and eventually they grew to be less about Hyunjin and more about genuine conversations between the two of you. You’re not dumb. You know where this is leading—and normally, you’d start to shy away from it.

You’ve got six days until June 8th, and you can’t seem to remember the details of that date for the life of you. Your thoughts are just full of Haechan’s jokes, Haechan’s dog’s new dress, Haechan, Haechan.

It’s devastating. “—are you listening to me?” Haechan’s voice flows abruptly from your laptop, which rests on your bed. You hum loudly to say yes, pulling on a hoodie and taking a seat to show yourself on camera.

“Actually, I wasn’t. What were we talking about?” He groans at this statement, raising his brows in frustration and poking his tongue through his cheek. He does that a lot. It’s—

Your door swings open and, like clockwork, you slam your laptop shut, feigning nonchalance and getting up.

The thing is, you haven’t ever thought of Haechan in that way. In a non-platonic way. (Half truth.) But around friends like Jeno and Jaemin, who love to twiddle with stories until they’re worthy of Nora Ephron films, you can’t ever keep your mouth open, lest they think of Haechan as some sort of soulmate of yours.

So your rendezvous with him were kept a perpetual secret, and the shirt you had never returned was laundered in secret. You weren’t necessarily ready to tell them about Haechan Lee, because it would mean chronicling the past three weeks of spending all your days together.

So. “Were you watching porn?”

“Wh—what?! Jeno, you’re sick!” You toss a throw pillow at him and he catches it, scoffing.

“Porn is nothing to be ashamed of!” He yells back. “I’m just saying, if you shut your laptop so defensively, you were probably watching porn, or…” He narrows his eyes and makes a beeline for your desk, but you’re quicker.

You jump onto his back, estimating his strength perfectly and putting enough weight on him that he slows down but stays standing. “Get off me, you nympho! Probably watching foot fetish porn, but I don’t—oomph—judge!”

“Get away from my laptop, Jeno Lee!” You wail, digging a nail into his arm so he curses and stops. He mumbles in pain and an I’ll get back at you before jogging out of your room, ensuring your victory.

—

It’s 2AM and you’re an hour from home. It’s windy, too—that fact would prevail by a lot if they had a competition deciding what was most obvious. Your hair whips across your face until you splutter and resort to tying it up. Also, you’re on the 70th floor of a building, sprawled across the cement rooftop. That would probably win the competition.

You’re also in Haechan’s arms. Now, that—okay, you’re done with this whole hypothetical fact competition.

But subjectively, it’s nice, you know that well enough. It’s nice to be out at 2AM on a cold, windy night, 70 floors above the city, and it’s so nice to be resting your head against Haechan’s chest, arms loosely wrapped around your figure as he hums a song that you recommended to him.

The rational part of your head is reeling over in shock and offense. The other is—well. In Haechan’s arms. “It’s 2,” you say, “in the morning, Haech.”

“So?”

“I’m sleepy. And you dragged me up here.”

He laughs with incredulity, and you can’t help but join him. You both know that while it was suggestion to check it out, you’d been just as complacent, since the words Hey, wanna go up to the 70th floor of my friend’s dad’s uncle’s building? just seemed to ignite a thrill in you that caused you to nod.

“Then I’ll drag you down and to the subway and come back up here myself.”

“But,” you say, sitting up. He lets his arms fall and you turn, facing him. Your faces are way closer than you expected, and while you take a sharp breath inwards, you make no move away. “Then you’ll have fun without me.”

“Then stay,” he says. It sounds like he means something else.

You gulp. “If I stay, we should plan for, um. Hyunjin, then.”

Something you can’t describe, and you barely catch, quivers through his gaze, but he blinks and looks away, getting up quickly. You lose your balance, following suit, confusion written across your features at the way he’s acting.

“No kidding,” he chuckles. “What else do we need to plan?”

“Dinner? I—I don’t know. I was joking.”

“You probably really want this date, so. It’s in a few days, you know?” You nod, but your thoughts are roaring something else entirely. “Haechan, I—”

“Well, there’s a good Italian place near your apartment. I’ll text you the address. Settled. Let’s go.”

He bends back down to tug his bag up from the floor, and you’re hit with a sudden rush of vertigo, your confusion and the cold and your racing thoughts hitting you instantaneously. Your hair flattens against your face and you rake it back. “I’m—are you—is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asks Haechan carefully, eyeing you.

You splutter. “I’m just asking.”

“It is,” he says, smiling. It’s forced. You can tell.

“It’s not,” you say, stepping closer.

“I’m serious. It is.” There’s soft solemnity in his face, but his gaze betrays it, flitting everywhere but your face.

“Haech—”

“Let’s just finish planning and, um, we can go back to being acquaintances.”

“Just tell me what it is, Haechan.”

“I—” he laughs, and it’s mirthless. “You don’t get it?”

You shrug, rolling your eyes. “Stop being so damn weird, face me, and answer me so I can.”

“I can’t look at you, goddamn it. I can’t see you, I can’t touch you, I can’t laugh around you, I can’t crack a joke around you. I can’t even mention your name. It—I. I don’t. I don’t know why, okay? I just—you’re so cool. You’re amazing, and you’re everything, and you’re funny and flawed, and bright and weird and hilarious and every other adjective I can’t think of right now. And when I see you, I feel all of that. I feel it all.

And it sucks, b—well, because, well, seeing you means hearing about Hyunjin, and everyday I think—what if it was different? What if. What if it was—I—fuck. I like you, okay? God, I do. I mean, who—wow. You’re just.”

He turns to the front of the building. “I like her!” He shouts. “And it feels good to finally tell you, but now, I just—I don’t—I.” He faces you, eyes hopeful, eyes sorrowful, and you open your mouth to form a reply.

It falls silent. It stays silent for a while.

—

JENO + JAEMIN’S Certified Heartbreak Checklist!!!

ben & jerry’s (preferred flavors: chunky monkey, cherry garcia)

taylor swift/early 2000s/dance music

feel-good movie i.e clueless, mean girls, 13 going on 30, superbad, project x

a round of call of duty with amateurs to make you feel better

sob session

“I don’t need this,” you say through a wad of snot. “I’m not heartbroken. I’m just confused.”

Jeno looks over to Jaemin, panic written all over his face. Jaemin mends it quickly, grabbing a Sharpie from the counter and scribbling over the word heartbreak, replacing it with the word Feelings?, much to your confusion. He does a bad job of it, though, and after he does it it looks more like Heartings?

“I’m okay,” you insist fruitlessly. You’d been crying your eyes out for two days, knowing not much other ways to cope with such a frighteningly confusing situation. You’d made a list of pros and cons before realizing you didn’t need any. You wrote down a speech for how to respond to Haechan, and you’d gone all over your usual meeting spots to recite it to him.

You couldn’t find him, for the life of you. You’d gone back home instead and recited a play by play of the events in your head.

“I hate myself.”

“Don’t. Haechan’s probably just not ready.”

Minor detail: you’d also spilled the totality of your predicament to Jeno and Jaemin, whose faces morphed from giddy to anguished to confused and back, much like your feelings. While this eliminated the need to hide Haechan’s existence from them, it also opened to you the copious amount of unsolicited advice.

You rack your head to try and find ways to apologize to him. That night, faced with bewilderment and feelings, you’d gasped in air until you couldn’t, shoving the exit open and running down flight after flight of stairs.

By the time the adrenaline had worn off, you’d just made it about six floors down. You took the elevator the rest of the way and kept hoping he would enter.

It sucked. However you chose to react, it was your mistake to remedy, and you didn’t quite know how. You still don’t.

You wallow in self pity and puzzlement and a spoon of Cherry Garcia before Jaemin bounds out of his room and into yours, smile broad on his face. “Yo, dude. I just saved your life.”

“Whose? Mine, I hope,” says Jeno offhandedly, walking into your room holding a slice of pizza. Jaemin glares at him.

“No, you dumbass. Hers.”

“Not to invalidate, but looking at my grades makes me feel like my life needs major saving.”

Ignoring him, Jaemin continues. “Listen—Haechan Lee, the guy you fucked over”—this earns him a flick of ice cream—“you want to apologize, right? But you never knew his exact address. But I’m telling you now. It’s his birthday, and…”

You’re sure Jaemin says the details afterwards, but your mind sticks itself onto the fact that it’s Haechan’s birthday: a fact he’d never told you before, and one you’d never thought to ask about. It’s his birthday. Birthday. His birthday. June 6th. It makes sense, and not even in an astrological point of view. It just does.

“I’m going,” you state blindly, getting out of bed immediately. “Now.”

—

Haechan’s apartment, you quickly learn, is a very nice one with nice windows and nice doors and a nice guest list. You heave the door open, Jeno and Jaemin teetering behind you, and find a room full of people. You tug it back shut instantly, nerves pulsating through you like a bad drug.

“I can’t,” you lament, biting your lip. Jaemin tugs on a lock of your hair.

“Don’t be a pussy and do it,” Jeno says sternly. “Own up.”

You pout, but push it open again and slip inside, your two friends following suit. You weave your way through the crowd and find groups scattered along the wide area—beer pong, weed, making out, there’s a space for everything. Judging by the way Jaemin and Jeno leave your side instantly, probably single hotties, too.

Your heart thumps with uncertainty, but it mellows down after ten minutes of futile search attempts. Every time you think it’s him, your heart leaps to your throat, but it never is.

So you take it as a sign. He’s probably getting laid in one of the two closed bedrooms, or buying more booze outside. You find your two henchmen—friends—in a throng of people playing Uno and tell them you’d be back.

You navigate the building’s elevator buttons until you find the rooftop one and wait in idle silence. Of course, he’s waiting on the other side when it opens.

His back is turned to you and you’re feet apart, the wide expanse of the rooftop separating you. You press the close button furiously, not ready to confront another rooftop confession yet.

A nasty deja vu cascades through you, and you shiver. The doors are closed for one minute and then they ding open, and you see him on the other side, and God he looks great. He’s in a black polo and black jeans and somebody’s written birthday boy on the space on his cheek, underneath his eye.

He enters the elevator, swallowing and clearing his throat. It smells like him. It’s stuck to his clothes.

“I’m sorry.” The starking silence is broken and in your shock, you can’t form a reply. Your head turns to him fast, eyes unblinking.

“Don’t,” you say, and then you inhale, deep. “Don’t be. I am. I—”

“But I’m—”

“Let me talk.” You say, facing him. You realize everything you’ve wanted to say is stored in your rigid script, so you take a deep breath and let it all out. To hell with being eloquent.

“I got nervous. I got—I got shocked, I got confused. The truth is, I’ve been running in circles trying to figure out how I feel for you. I mean, you’re funny. You’re cool and you’re—I don’t know, you’re just.” You take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from rambling. “Okay. Well, I like you, too, and I like you a lot, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I like you! I have nobody to yell this to, but you, but you’re the only person who needs to know right now. I like you. And I like liking you. And I like not planning this date on June 8th because I don’t want Hyunjin. And—I don’t know—I’m scared, that maybe this will all go to shit, because I suck at these stuff, and so do you, but I don’t know, it feels like if I try, it won’t be so bad.”

Obviously, when you look back up at him, he’s sporting a shit-eating smirk.

“Happy birthday to me,” he says, and then you’re kissing him so he’ll shut up.

Your hands find his face, trailing your touch everywhere so you can feel the change of texture when you encounter the eyeliner smudged beneath his eye, the moles dotted across his face. He smiles into the kiss, deepening it, his hands finding your waist to bring you closer to him. It’s a kiss you’ve wanted for always, but one you never knew you’d wanted. It’s a soft kiss, but a deep one, one with laughs and one with breaths that smell of ice cream and mint.

“Give it up,” you mumble. “I hate you.”

“That’s very contradictory, considering I just received the best gift of my life.”

“Well, you’re about to get another one.”

—

It’s the 8th of June, and Hyunjin sits alone at the dinner table, wondering why Haechan, the guy from the groupchat whom he barely even knew, called him out of the blue and requested to meet him. The restaurant looked fancy, and expensive, and he began to feel nervous at the propect of having to pay for a meal.

He’s been waiting for ten minutes now, and both him and the waiters are beginning to grow antsy. He’s ordered water maybe six times, and to be honest, he’s getting a little pissed.

And then. “Hwang? Hyunjin Hwang?” He looks up, eyes gleaming in relief and then in bewilderment at his companions for the night. Politely, he cocks his head to the side, running a hand through his hair.

“Hi, do I know y—”

“Jaemin Na. This is Jeno Lee. We understand you’re in need of a date.” Two guys clad in matching black tees sit on either side of him, voices loud despite the quiet aura of the restaurant. Hyunjin doesn’t know how to react.

“I’m really not, y—”

“Trust us.” Jeno slams a manila folder on the desk, and opposite him, so does Jaemin. “We are high-tier selectors of love interests. Our past clients…client, rather, is extremely content with their love life.”

“Because you recommended their soulmate?” asks Hyunjin, confused.

“Well…no. Actually, she met her boyfriend elsewhere. But that’s besides the point.” Jaemin extracts ten papers from his folder and Jeno follows suit.

“Hyunjin Hwang, are you ready for a date draw?”

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback

[elenarodriiguez]

febuwhump masterlist

well i did it - 28 fics in as many days (and yes i did burn myself out in the process!) totalling to almost 34000 words! i don’t quite know how i did it, but i did & that’s the main thing! so in case you missed any, here’s a list:

head wound | chicago pd | hailey upton x reader | 1054

failed rescue attempt | chicago fire | stella kidd x reader | 1333

blood loss | chicago pd | kim burgess x jay halstead (burgstead) | 1168

nightmares | criminal minds | penelope garcia x reader | 613

“let me see” | agents of shield | bobbi morse x reader | 951

natural disaster | chicago pd | vanessa rojas x hailey upton (upjas) | 1742

“i dreamt you were alive” | chicago fire | leslie shay x female!reader | 1129

no anaesthesia | chicago med | crockett marcel x sarah reese (sockett) | 1364

kidnapped | chicago pd | kim burgess x jay halstead x hailey upton (burgtonstead) | 1214

“how long has it been?” | agents of shield | daisy johnson x reader | 938

“i’ll never forgive you” | marvel | sharon carter x reader | 906

spiked drink | chicago med | sarah reese x connor rhodes (rheese) | 1884

won’t regain consciousness | chicago fire | matt casey x hallie thomas (mallie) | 1290

can’t go home | hawkeye | kate bishop x maya lopez (bishpez) | 1132

hidden scars | agents of shield | leo fitz x daisy johnson (fitzdaisy) | 1143

"does that hurt?" | chicago fire | sylvie brett x reader | 685

self-inflicted wound | chicago pd | jay halstead x reader | 1066

forced to watch | chicago pd | erin lindsay x reader | 1844

black eye | agents of shield | melinda may x reader | 759

shrapnel | chicago pd | greg "mouse" gerwitz x jay halstead (moustead) | 2322

help them | chicago fire | matt casey x reader | 679

restrained | chicago fire | matt casey x stella kidd x kelly severide (stellaridesy) | 1512

"don't leave!" | chicago med | ava bekker x sarah reese (reesker) | 2590

too weak to move | swat | chris alonso x reader | 982

muffled screams | eternals | druig x makkari (drukkari) | 1060

"please don't do this" | private practice | cooper freedman x charlotte king (charcoop) | 950

shower breakdown | agents of shield | daisy johnson x elena rodriguez (quakeshot) | 677

presumed dead | criminal minds | elle greenaway x spencer reid (reidaway) | 888

[markodragic]

I writed my first micah x reader fic, pls be nice 2 me ❤️❤️❤️

Y/n woke up and stepped out of her tent into the cool morning air, tying her hair up into a tidy ponytail. She made her way to the campfire with only one person on her mind as she sat down and poured herself some coffee.

“Good morning everyone! Where’s Micah?” She asked eagerly.

“Wild chimpanzees attacked him in the night.” Replied Hosea taking a massive fucking bong rip.

Y/n rushed off in a frenzy but by the time she reached him it was too late and there was already about four or five people doing the urkel on his lifeless body, so she wБог сказал: «Да наполнится вода живностью, и да полетят над землей по небосводу птицы». Бог сказал: «Да наполнится вода живностью, и да полетят над землей по небосводу птицы».

Malcolm in the Middle is an American television sitcom created by Linwood Boomer for Fox. The series premiered on January 9, 2000, and ended its six-year run on May 14, 2006, after seven seasons and 151 episodes. The series received critical acclaim and won a Peabody Award, seven Emmy Awards, one Grammy Award and seven Golden Globe nominations.

The series follows a dysfunctional working class family and stars Frankie Muniz in the lead role as Malcolm, an adolescent who tests at a genius level. While he enjoys his intelligence, he greatly resents having to take special classes for gifted children, which are mocked by the rest of the kids at school and called "Krelboynes", referring to the clumsy and nerdy lead character from The Little Shop of Horrors. Jane Kaczmarek plays Malcolm's overbearing, hotheaded and stubborn mother, Lois, and Bryan Cranston plays his immature, manic, but loving father, Hal. Christopher Kennedy Masterson plays eldest brother, Francis, the trouble-making son who, in earlier episodes, was in military school, but eventually marries and settles into a steady job. Justin Berfield is Malcolm's dimwitted older brother, Reese, a cruel bully who tortures Malcolm at home, even while he defends him at school. Erik Per Sullivan plays younger brother, Dewey, who is people smart, musically talented, and concerned about his well-being. In earlier episodes, the show's focus was on Malcolm, but as the series progressed, it explored all six members of the family more. Another character, Jamie (James and Lukas Rodriguez), was introduced as the fifth son of Hal and Lois at the end of Season 4.

The show received widespread praise from critics and proved an extremely popular draw for the network. Critics Alan Sepinwall and Matt Zoller Seitz named it the 50th greatest American Television series of all time in TV (The Book), and it was placed No. 88 on Entertainment Weekly's "New TV Classics" list,[1]. Sepinwall additionally listed it as one of the 10 best shows in Fox network history

[ernestsinclairs]

The Downfall of Viktor Montmartre

CRACK/SATIRE FIC BECAUSE I HATE THIS MOTHERF****ER

Viktor Montmartre sauntered through the doors of his LA office and plopped down into his Versace alligator skin chair. It had been exactly $62,345.90 including tax, and he’d printed the price out onto a sticker and stuck it onto the chair to remind him of how rich he was.

Leland St. James suddenly popped up on the 60-inch Plexiglass TV. Viktor smirked, then turned the volume up.

“Stunning new allegations against Viktor Montmartre!” the annoying, weasel faced man squealed. “More allegations of sexual harassment, reckless endangerment, negligence, and all around, just being a total douche!”

“WHAT?!?” Viktor screamed, throwing the remote down on a panda skin rug. “HOW, HOW-”

Suddenly the phone rang. Enraged, he yanked it up, nearly ripping it by the cord.

“This is Edgar, your lawyer,” came a voice on the other end.

“I know who you are, Edgar! I’m the one who hired you! Now what is it?! And go sue that Leland St. James! He snaked me!”

“About that, boss, sorry.”

Viktor shut up for a moment, his jaw hanging open. He suddenly looked very very stupid.

“Edgar, what do you-”

“You ain’t getting out of this one Viktor. Damn, boy, you are screwed. There’s nothing I can do. Bye.”

Viktor Montmartre screamed in fury and threw the entire telephone on the floor where it promptly shattered into a million pieces. He felt slightly better.

“And more news about Thomas Hunt’s sexy new piece, The Duchess!” Leland St. James quipped from the safety of the TV. “It’s on track to outpace Double Agent by Tommy Phelps! It’s expected to open at $652 million, and . . . well . . .”

Leland looked down at a piece of paper.

“Well, Double Agent’s expected to make . . . you know what, I’m not even going to say that number. yIKES.”

A laugh track played. Viktor Montmartre screamed some more.

“TIFFANY!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. Almost instantly, a timid looking assistant appeared, clutching a clipboard.

“FIX THIS!”

“Fix what?” she stammered, looking very frightened. “There’s a lot of problems to fix.”

“LIKE WHAT?!” Viktor roared, launching a Grammy award that was nearby at his Oscar award shelf. It missed and took of the head of the Chris Hemsworth cardboard cutout instead.

“There’s really no good way to say it, so . . .”

Tiffany paused and braced herself.

“Sir . . . your nudes leaked.”

“MY WHAT?!”

“Your nudes? Remember you sent them to that Playboy model? Yeah, well, she leaked.”

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?!?” Viktor howled, launching another Grammy award. This one found its mark, and an entire shelf of Oscars tumbled.

“And the police might be here. I thought I’d let you know.”

“AND WHAT DID YOU DO ABOUT THAT?!” 

“Oh, I brewed them some coffee. I told them I’d add some creamer if they backed off.”

“Did they?” Viktor Montmartre asked hopefully.

“No.”

An entire of squadron of police suddenly burst in, a siren blaring behind them. Somehow, they had managed to get a police car all the way up fifty floors.

“HOW THE FUCK DID THAT GET HERE?” Viktor shrieked, pointing at the police car.

“You had the elevators modified, sir,” Tiffany answered quickly. “Remember? When Priya Lacroix came to visit and she wanted the elevators bigger so she could have orgies in them?”

“Oh, right,” Viktor said, remembering. “She was hot. And scary.”

There was suddenly some commotion from the back, and the police parted like the Red Sea. Thomas Hunt rolled in a skateboard, sipping a glass of scotch, oozing sexiness like a beehive oozed honey.

“So nice to see you, Viktor,” he drawled. Tiffany looked at him and sighed lustfully.

“Just wanted to give you this.”

He took out a bundle of ‘The Duchess’ premiere tickets out of his pocket and proceeded to make it rain.

“I hope they’ll let you out of jail for this,” he drawled some more. “Only entertainment, now that you’re going to prison.”

Viktor burst into angry tears and Thomas Hunt rolled away without a care in the world.

“Viktor Montmartre, you are under arrest,” said a rather stupid looking brunette police officer. Viktor looked at him. His name tag was backwards and said “Yffud”.

“YFUDD? I’M GETTING ARRESTED BY A GUY NAMED YFUDD?!” Viktor wailed.

The policeman cowered, awkwardly handing the handcuffs to another officer.

“It’s Duffy, sir, Duffy.”

A slick looking man in an Armani suit and a lawyer’s briefcase than strode in, flashing a white business card with silver lettering at everyone.

“I’m the lawyer from Raines Corporation,” he stated flatly. “Viktor, we’re suing you for copying our lobby design.”

Viktor screamed in rage and proceeded to hurl a bonsai tree out the window. A policeman attempted to catch it, but happened to fall out with it.

The police marched the screaming man out the main lobby, with the Raines Corp. lawyer taking photos of every single lobby detail, every single chair, every single streak of window polish.

Outside, the media had gathered like a swarm.

“Mr. Montmartre, is it true you sexually harassed women?” Ana de Luca demanded, pressing a microphone to his mouth. Viktor just cried as he was hauled off to jail.

All around the country that night, the country rejoiced. Matt Rodriguez rejoiced right before the surgeon put him under. Rising director, Teja Desai, danced so excitedly she knocked coffee into the face of comedian, Seth Levine. Harvey Weinstein’s lawyer cursed and said, “Goddamn, there’s two of them.”

Leland St. James and Tiffany the assistant continued their torrid love affair, having threesomes with a local waiter named Daniel. Officer Yffud went looking for a new job. The lawyer from Raines Corporation went off for his meeting with Senator Vega. He didn’t return, but it was okay. Everyone hates lawyers. No one cares about lawyers.

All was good in the world that night. 

@katurrade

[peachesandlesbians]

Preference: Romantic Quote (RCD)

THOMAS HUNT: 

“This poem is endless / the odds against us are endless / our chances of being alive together statistically nonexistent / still we have made it” — Lisel Mueller

ADDISON SINCLAIR:

“Show me / the most damaged / parts of your soul, / and I will show you / how it still shines like gold.” — Nikita Gill 

HOLLY CHANG:

“Although they are / Only breath, words / which I command / are immortal.” — Sappho

VICTORIA FONTAINE:

“So many people advised me against you. How glad I am we could not resist.” Lee Ann Brown

MATT RODRIGUEZ:

“This is my confession. / As dark as I am, / I will always / find enough light / to adore you to pieces, / with all of my pieces.” — Johnny Nguyen

TEJA DESAI:

“Coffee is / all well / and good / but I would / rather / have your / lips / kiss me / awake / every / morning” — kpk

SETH LEVINE:

“You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known — and even that is an understatement.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald