#no offence but anon got served

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi Mouse! Could you pretty please write some general romantic headcanons for the bachelors. No in particular just stuff like how they romance the farmer and what they do as a couple. Thanks!

Sure thing, dear anon! Thanks for your ask, enjoy some headcanons!🫰💕

_________________________________________

Some romantic SDV bachelors x Farmer headcanons:

Elliott:

Letters. Many, many love letters, and not just any love letters. Every letter must be perfect, every word must convey the love that Elliott feels for Farmer. Even the paper must be of high quality and pleasant to the touch. There's a whole ritual involved, because it's for Farmer, after all.

Elliott loves to take Farmer for a walk on the sandy shore just as much as he loves to sit with them in the Saloon with a bottle of wine. Still prefers the walks more, though, as they are alone together and without any noise other than the sounds of the sea waves and seagulls singing.

One of their special pastimes together is leaving seashells in the sand. Yes, that's right, not collecting them, but spreading them out so the hermit crabs can find a home and not use plastic cups for that. Farmer and Elliott sign the shells and take a photo as another crab has found a shell. It's very sweet, really.

There probably isn't a day that goes by that Elliott doesn't tell Farmer that they are the love of his life. Of course, Farmer knows this and loves just as much, but Elliott just adores his partner. He likes to back up his words of adoration with lots of gifts too: some small but nice things that are sure to please Farmer.

Sam:

Given Sam's love for music and his excellent skill in playing the guitar, Farmer will hear many serenades dedicated to them. And it's not just guitar music, it's also a whole song that Sam will sing with his beautiful voice. Just like in the novel, honestly.

Tickle war! The perfect excuse for Sammy to fool around with Farmer and hear their beautiful, ringing laughter. Especially when his partner is sad or moody for whatever reason. A grumpy Farmer in his sight? The heck, Illegal for him! So Sam will take matters into his own hands and cheer up Farmer. He won't be mean about it (maybe~).

Generally, Sam is all for any kind of time with his partner, but probably his favourite is just lying on the grass on a summer afternoon with Farmer and looking at the clouds. Pointing a finger at the sky and convincing Farmer that that cloud looks exactly like a pizza, and feigning offence when Farmer laughs at him because he "sees pizza everywhere". Just a lazy day together, away from problems and things to do.

Physical attention is integral when it comes to expressing Sam's love for Farmer: holding hands, hugs (a lot) and kisses on the cheek and lips (even more). He's a fan of PDA and is ready to talk non-stop about how much he loves Farmer, wrapping them up in a tight embrace.

Harvey:

Maybe for some people sitting near a fireplace is not considered too special, but even here Harvey managed to create a truly magical and cosy atmosphere. Warm firelight, hot aromatic coffee, comfortable plaid and a lot of pleasant conversations about past moments and plans for the future. Especially when snow is falling outside the window/thunderstorm is raging.

The doctor has already got so good at cooking dinner that Gus has to take him on as an assistant. And some pretty elaborate dishes that are usually served in restaurants. So one of Harvey's love signs is to spoil his partner with a tasty and, importantly, healthy dinner almost every night. (Gus jokingly says that soon the Farmer's will stop visiting Saloon altogether because they have their own skilful chef.)

Likes to make surprises for Farmer. Surprise gift, surprise date - surprises everywhere! There is nothing more satisfying for Harvey than to see his lover's face go from surprise to delight and then tender love when they looked at Harvey again.

Well, where's a romantic time - and without dancing? Robin and Demetrius now have to move aside because there's another lovely couple on the dance floor. Nothing chaotic (especially after a few glasses of fancy vine), but as soon as light jazz plays in the Saloon, Harvey asks his partner for a slow dance. The doctor is still a little shy about dancing among strangers, but Farmer's soft gaze was enough to make all insecurity go away.

Sebastian:

Sebastian will show Farmer all his favourite places with fantastic views. And it's not limited to views of the big metropolis with its neon signs and billboards. Sebby will take Farmer for a ride to, for example, a small clearing near Stardew Valley, where they can both enjoy a beautiful view of the stars without all that light from the houses.

He and his partner also like to visit places they've never been to on his motorbike. Just without thinking, Sebastian and Farmer will go to some random cafe that is rumoured to serve delicious coffee, or to a rare comic book shop in Zuzu City. Leaving the jungle of the metropolis and returning to the more wooded area of Pelican Town.... Heh, and earlier Sebby wanted to escape the small town, but instead found the love of his life.

He enjoys listening to anything Farmer tells him, whether it's a spoiler for a new release of a science fiction film, a new character in their DnD game, or stories about the cows and rabbits on the farm. Honestly, he is willing to listen to Farmer 24 hours a day, and he never gets bored of it.

Romantic frog hunting! Well, "hunt" refers to Sebastian and Farmer walking near the ponds with a camera to look for frogs and toads to take photos. Later, they return home to photoshop the photos and get pictures of the cutest frogs. And memes. Seriously, the toad with eyes - lasers that destroys JojaMart was hilarious that the local emo and Farmer laughed for half a day.

Alex:

It's safe to say that one of Alex's love languages is to constantly ask the Farmer if they need help. Not that he's being so intrusive, no. It's just that the athlete believes that Farmer's problem is now his problem too, and wants to show that they can always count on him if they need anything because he loves them.

Alex loves his date with Farmer at the beach. And he doesn't care too much whether the couple is playing volleyball, swimming in the sea or lounging on a beach rug in the bright sunshine - beach dates are the best! It's even better when access to Ginger Island is open and they can go to the beach every season. Farmer is happy - and that's what matters. The main thing - stock up on plenty of sun cream, otherwise the date will end on a not very pleasant note.

At first Alex didn't do it on purpose, but seeing that his partner would sometimes steal his jumpers and jackets and put them on themself, he started leaving his clothes out in plain sight. It's hard to explain, but he likes to see his beloved Farmer in his clothes, even if it means he's unlikely to see his favourite jumper again.

Although the athlete usually shows simple, one can even say - standard, signs of attention, such as flowers, chocolates, walks in the forest, etc, but he tries to make every day special. Farmer sees their partner's efforts, his love and care, and therefore assures Alex that he is not banal, but a very romantic partner. Real gold (envy silently!).

Shane:

One day Shane saw a tandem bike on TV and thought: heck, why not? He'd like to try something new. It would be both a good ride to burn some calories and a nice time with Farmer. Even his favourite chicken Charlie could sit in a cosy bike basket. Farmer liked the idea too, so Pelican Town will often see these two lovebirds riding their bike (and hear Shane complain that his legs are killing him now).

Amusingly, what would normally be considered just a work, Shane sees as bonding with his partner. Especially taking care of the chickens and making winter preparations like jam and pickled peppers. The constant talking and bantering between these two..... It's so special and beautiful for Shane.

Shane is not at all shy of strangers when it comes to physically expressing his love for Farmer. Hugs and kisses - Shane loves Farmer's attention and showering them with the same attention and love. Lewis, shut up, you're generally afraid to show your relationship with you-know-who. Ha ha, Sam, very funny, expect chilli powder in your lunch. No one dares spoil his moment, got it?

The chicken man also doesn't mind having a game night with Farmer to take their mind off work for a bit. All the delicious (and not too healthy) snacks, drinks, a big screen TV and their favourite video game - in Shane's opinion, not a bad pastime either (which can turn into an even better thing~).

[fuck-customers]

(🦕 Anon) Firstly, I just want to say a MASSIVE wholehearted thank you to the people who donated to my fundraiser mentioned in my last post; thanks to your amazing generosity, I'm gonna be able to keep living at my place <3

Secondly, it seems like now my ex-manager has gotten rid of me, he's turning his efforts towards getting rid of my work dad - including such bullshit as constantly ignoring his availability and then making him find his own cover or get punished for it even though his availability has been the same for years and he has it that way so he can spend time with his kids, or pulling him into disciplinary after disciplinary for the pettiest reasons like 'not wearing his lanyard properly' which literally half the staff there do yet he's the only one being penalised for it and I'm fairly sure that isn't even a disciplinary-able offence in the first place, and just constantly nitpicking everything he does even though he's one of the longest-serving people there and one of the few good ones left...I stg it's like Ex-Manager is actively trying to drive away all the good staff and just be left with all his (useless, honestly) favourites. We already had people dropping like flies because of him even before I got fired.

If it didn't stress Work Dad and my other friends from that store out so much, I'd be 100% content to just watch the whole thing go up in flames from afar.

Posted by admin Rodney

[smilingangel582]

A small stomach...?

Hiii! I got a lot of anon questions going on. Ask me anything... I can write anything 😌 well... I just hope it's something I know... I might now know some famous anime, bl or even games.... but I know plenty.

I want to do a genshin impact, especially another for Aether since I chose him.

Enjoyyy!

"Traveler, Paimon's hungry again"

Sighing, Aether heard this the third time after breakfast. Sure, he loved to treat paimon to something good, but... he just wished she would stop wasting mora since commisions have been going a little less on his plate.

"Paimon, seriously, do you have the black hole inside you?"

Pamion gave a nervous giggle, "Maybe...?"

"Wait, just a minute..." he smiled weakly, "I'll see if I can get something from the wanmin restaurant..."

"Yaaay, you're the best!"

Seeing her happy is something nice to see.

He took a small dish of grilled fish rather than the large jueyun chillie chicken, which was closer to xinyan's spicy rockstar taste. She must have had at least three plates of that and two mora meat.

"I'm stuffed!"

Aether smiled back now "so much for fattening my emergency food,"

"Heeey!" Paimon huffed. They finally paid the bills and decided to stroll around the Jueyen karst. Of course, Aether began speaking about her large appetite being quite disturbing, "Are you really having a black hole inside you?"

Paimon gasped in offence. "Paimon has a normal stomach like any other being! And you on the other hand...?" She flew towards him, not seeing her properly, he whipped back but she grabbed his sides to prove her point "you look skinny and boney! Do you even eat at all?"

"H-Hey! I d-do just... nohot as much as you!"

He moved away from her, still feeling the ticklish touch of her small fingers. Paimon tilted her head in confusion, but seeing him blush, she knew what was going on...

"Well?" She poked his other side, making him jolt away again."You barely eat more than two servings of food... that's like barely a quarter of a paimon's meal!"

"Ahaha wahahait stohohop ihihit... ihihi don't hahave -suhuhuch a bihihig stohohomach! Uhuhunlike yohohou!"

"Are you mocking Paimon...?" She warned him by pausing her playful attempts. Shrinking front and raising his arms to shield himself, he nodded with a giggle "Yehehes?"

He was asking for it... but seeing her pout in rage was hilarious. Aether collapsed to the grass when Paimon unleashed her wrath vigorously on his stomach. "Ahahah Pahahaimon! Thahahat tihihickles!"

She grinned victoriously "this is for all those times you teased me! So now it's Paimon's turn!"

"Ahahalright! Ahahahre yohohou fihihinallt -AHAHAHA WAHAHAIT NOHO!"

"Aha! Knew your hips are bad! Paimon can tell!" She snickered, grinning evilly as she wiggled her fingers and grabbed at the hip bones. He arched his back and began to cackle loudly, "AHAHA NOHOHO, IM SOHOHORRY! I -ARCHOHOHONS! PLEHEHESE!""

Paimon stopped and then resting her hands at her sides triumphed she smiled widely "so? The great traveller was taken down by tickling... that's something interesting!"

Aether giggled now holding his sides "Yohou... wihihill nohot gehet any mohohora from me!"

"Noo fair! I want to make you take back what you said and now you're not paying for Paimon's food! So unfair!"

Aether frowned in confusion "Unfair -ahahaha nohoho dohont! Nohot agahahain! Ahahah sohoho unfahahair!"

Aether had somehow wondered if he wanted her to stop. He had never felt carefree in a long time...

[slashingdisneypasta]

oooh… tzekel-kan… has invaded my brain…. Help..

if he sees you and decides he wants you it’s over. it doesn’t matter where you come from, whether you live on the island or wash up on shore one day

tzekel-kan‘s acolyte (guy with the jaguar hood) serves as his eyes and ears. he’s one of the warriors guarding el dorado and any time there’s an arrest of any kind (villagers committing crimes or outsiders found on the island) he’s right there. every capture is reported back to tzekel-kan posthaste. the priest gets first pickings in victims for his sacrifices, with lower offences sometimes settling for their cattle to use in his rituals.

once you’re bound before tzekel-kan he hesitates. something about the way you carry yourself, the way you look… you share similarities with an icon in his codex, not quite divine but above a mortal. potential to grow more holy with devotion to the gods and discipline. you’ll never come close to his own status of course

he decides to keep you as a server in the temple and you have no say in the matter. but at least you aren’t being sacrificed or sent to xibalba

from that day on tzekel-kan keeps you under his full control. you’re given many chores in the temple like preparing ritual foods and weaving ceremonial robes according to the priest‘s precise instructions. you’re also expected to follow every rule of his and live your life by guidelines he sets.

tzekel-kan focuses on making you devoted to the gods and to him by aiding him in all his rituals and divinations. he wants you to be the pure and reverent server to match his holiness as enforcer of the gods‘ will

over time his facade will start to crack and his true intentions will slip through. he wants to be the one worshipped by you, the center of your universe. tzekel-kan will think a long time about making you his consort, still far inferior in power and status him of course, before acting on it. the signs are all noticeable, he preens more around you, seeks physical contact more often, you spend nearly every hour of the day performing rituals with him.

you never get to leave his side. but not that you’d be able to do anything about his advances. he’s got you firmly under his thumb - it won’t be long until you’re draped in heavy gold jewellery that might as well be a collar of ownership

hrrrrnggggg…… okayyy got it all out… good night………….

ANONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

ANON.

ANON.

This is an amazing fanfic, I'm so into it!!!! Thank you so much for sharing!! Ahhh!!

[gracefullou]

i used to be a hardcore hrry fan, but overtime i just felt so disconnected from him because he doesn’t show his human, real side and instead it’s basically a brand. i won’t lie, i can’t hate him or dislike him, i was too attached and that’s hard to let go, but i stopped following him and listening to his music. louis has always been my favorite though. i love that he’s as authentic as he can be in the industry and shares this special bond with fans. that’s something hrry can’t have and it’s truly sad. he got plenty of success, but in return he became a product to sell to audiences, with “fans” who don’t truly care about him and many just wanting the clout of being at a hrry stles™ show, meanwhile louis has fans who care about him and his music. who feel that connection. who make fan projects for him and other fans, and in return he shows his appreciation for us and includes us in his success. personally, i wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. hrry’s fanbase is not long lasting, louis’ is, so, who really won at the end?

It depends on what you see as winning and therefore who you ask. Louis will never be as commercially successfull as Hrry, he will never have those streaming numbers, he will never have lead roles served to him on a silver plate even when he has zero acting talent. So if that was the prize, he lost. But I don't think that's what Louis thinks. I don't think that's what any rational person thinks. Fans tend to draw comparisons between the two but it's not fair, or even rational. You can't compare an indie movie with a Marvel one, simply bc the investment was not the same, the amount of money and power put into the two projects is incomparable and therefore the projects themselves are. It's the same here. I don't follow Hrry and idk what's happening with him/ his career unless i see a post in my tl and even if i did, i can't claim if he's happy or not, dead inside (like he looks) or not but it is clear atp that everything publicly available about him is a calculated move. I don't care about him, i never did so i can't relate to you anon. Ofc, the moment i became a Louis fan i was bombarded with 1D and Hrry content but i never cared about him. I heard his first album once and never again (same with his second one). I remmember not liking his music, it's very repetitive, not really catchy and he writes very amateur and generic lyrics. I didn't like him as well, i think a lot of what his fans "see" in him is an illusion, a false perception. They think he's interesting and deep so they find his slow speech and goofiness charming but the moment he opens his mouth when asked a question that he didn't prepare for, you see that there's nothing really there. Anyway, enough about him. What I care about is Louis. He looks so good, i don't think i've ever seen him happier than this last year. He's making the music he wants and doesn't have to answer to any external pressure anymore. And what magical songs he's making 🥹❤️‍🩹. Faith in the future is a perfect perfect album and is a far cry from anything he wrote with one direction no offence. He had an arena tour and played to thousands of fans night after night, even did a few stadium shows in Latam and had a live stream from one of the shows. He released AOTV as well. I agree that his music is so good, so well written it inspires the listener. Of course i wish he had a better team to prompte him and his music but there is something beautiful about how no matter how many streams a song of his get, you know it's organic. You know it's bc all the people (or at the very least most of them) who listened to this song loved it. Might be silly but i get emotional when i listen to always you, a non single from walls has 22M views on YouTube with zero promo, all from people who loved the song bc it's pop perfection duh. Fingers crossed for LT3, I know it will be another perfect album from Louis and i can't wait to hear it

[pynkhues]

I love writing Rio, but what's not easy is writing his dialogue. He doesn't say that much in canon is the thing! So we just don't get to hear much of not only his diction, but also don't get too much of how he communicates outside Beth/girls, which is a very specific dynamic. We get a bit with Nick, but still not much. How do you get into Rio's head to write his dialogue? How do you get in his voice? And then not just how he speaks but what he'd communicate/share about himself?

I love writing him too, anon! He’s got a pretty specific cadence to the way that he talks though, so I totally get what you’re saying about him sometimes being a challenge, especially because – as you said – we tend to see him in pretty specific contexts which can make imagining him outside of them difficult.

I think for me, I do tend to write him and Beth both as fairly uncommunicative and deflective because, well, they usually are, haha. They’re both characters who think a good defence is a strong offence, and would rather play games or fight than be vulnerable with one another, so having them talk circles around what it is they both actually want is something I find really fun and rewarding.

What that looks like, and how I approach that, varies depending on the scene or the story I want to tell, but generally speaking my way into dialogue generally is through:

Dialect and slang

Context; and

Tone and body language.

All of these things are pivotal to making conversations between characters feel authentic and lived in, and having those conversations serve the narrative, but they’re also great things to think about in terms of fanfiction, because even if you’re writing an AU, things like dialect and body language are still elements that are pivotal to the character you’re writing and something you can use as a touchstone to bring said character to life in your fic.

As an example, let’s take a look at an excerpt from Drive You Mad (wear me out):

“Don’t you have a back-up plan, anyway?”

“Don’t you?” he snips back at her, petty, and she scowls at him, her chest flushing red above the neckline of his t-shirt.

“You know what?” she says, mouth pulled into a sneer. “I could’ve had a back-up plan if you’d actually bothered to tell me about this whole thing instead of just showing up at my job and having me drop everything to run around after you.”

It’s enough to make Rio snort on a laugh, tossing his busted cell back down into the cupholder, twisting his body sideways in his seat so he can rest one elbow on the back of his chair, the other on the steering wheel, webbing his fingers in between as he stares at her.

“Yeah, see, that’s kinda one o’ the perks of bein’ the boss, darlin’. You remember, right? Back when you thought you were one?”

She stares right on back at him, breathless for a minute, before she twists, briefly tanglin’ up in her seatbelt, enough it practically cups her breasts in a way that shoots hot through him, before she manages to release the seatbelt and fumble out of it. Her rage propellin’ her forwards.

“Those are big words for somebody who really managed to screw tonight up. You have no phone, you lost your boy, and you managed to give us away. So good job, Mr CEO, have fun justifying that to your board of directors.”

It’s quick, how much the heat in him fans into somethin’ white hot. He licks his teeth, drops his chin forwards towards her, unwebs his thumbs just enough to point at himself.

“I screwed up tonight? Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich, darlin’ - -”

“Yeah, you - - ” she tries to interrupt, but he won’t let her. He leans forwards in his chair, the tension inside him pulling taut.

“Nuh, see, I ain’t the one who gave us away in there. I ain’t the one wastin’ time battin’ my lashes at the guy I’m supposed to be workin’,” she reels back at that, her head shakin’, confused, and she can’t be, because she was - - “Fallin’ sideways on his - - ”

“What are you talking about?” she hisses, not letting him finish, and Rio just laughs, sucks in his bottom lip, before he levels her with the coldest look he can manage with her (and shit, it ain’t ever cold enough).

“What I’m talkin’ about is you scrappin’ around for attention wherever you can find it, coz that dumbass husband of yours can’t tell you apart from his mother.”

Somewhere outside of the car, he can still hear the echoes of the campsite, the whiz and the crack of fireworks, the thrum of cicadas. The hot gust of air from the car’s heating buzzes at his skin, circulates the smell of stagnant lake water and that too-sweet one that’s just her, and he watches the shock on her face shift into a bright and naked fury.  

“You do not know the first thing about my marriage,” she says, her voice low and tight, and Rio just laughs, rocking his jaw forwards because that’s fuckin’ rich.

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No, you don’t,” she grits out. “It might come as a shock to you, but there is a lot you don’t - - ”

“Know you fucked me on a date with him,” he interrupts. “Know you fucked me in his bed.”

“My bed,” she hisses, and she drops her hands to the bottom of his shirt again, fiddlin’ in that way she does around him now, and his eyes dart down, and he has to tear ‘em back up to meet hers. “And we weren’t on a date. I was - - we were - - working.”

It’s enough to make him laugh for real that time, bark it out in disbelief, dropping his head forwards as he nods, pursing his lips before sitting back in his seat.

“Oh, so it’s work that gets you hot? Okay.”

***

With dialect and slang, I dropped a lot of ‘g’s (probably slightly more than I would these days, actually), the way he often throws questions back at Beth (‘Oh, I don’t?’) and used abbreviations (kinda), slang (darlin’, dumbass husband) and even just certain words that I felt he used frequently on the show (boss).

This alone I think works to an extent, but it’s really combining that with certain tones and body language that I think helps the most in terms of making a character feel, well, in-character. I made Rio interweave his fingers because it’s something he does a lot when he’s around Beth, particularly when he’s annoyed, and merged that with him turning around to face her in a car, also when he’s annoyed, haha, and I mixed that up with some of the ways we’ve seen him act when he’s both pissed off and horny, mostly using 2.06 as a reference point, because y’know, we got the spectrum of emotions from him in that episode.

Which comes down to the context. I knew what I wanted out of that scene – catharsis and bite and to get Beth and Rio at a breaking point again, so finding the little moments in canon where we get glimpses of that and borrowing from both the dialect and the body language of those scenes I think is what really helps to write the dialogue itself. Once you know what you want out of the scene, figuring out what moments in canon you can bounce off to create something that feels authentic is really a bit of a key to unlock the writing, I think!

And as for how much he chooses to reveal - Rio's a pretty mutable character, so I think it's really up to you and what you're going to enjoy doing. Like I said above, I like writing Beth and Rio as uncommunicative nightmares, and so giving myself opportunities to explore that, even in my established relationship fic, is what I'm going to do. Knowing what you want out of your story, and what you enjoy writing, is always the instinct you should follow, particularly when it comes to fanfiction.

[nyarados]

dude ive never been to a prom what's it like? -diggs

bruh I wish I could remember enough to tell you

[queridopascal]

Happy 500! Ive had this idea for a while, but it might be too long and complicated. If it is too much feel free to disregard, no hard feelings! I just had this idea where Frankie has been really happy lately and kind of hiding things and sneaking around. So of course the guys think he started using again so they start following him and stuff to kind of catch him in the act, but hes just has a baker girlfriend they don't know about yet and hes been hiding sweet treats she makes him so he doesn't have to share with the guys. If you do write it thanks in advance ❤❤

Hi anon! I looooove this, thank you for sending it in 💞

Frankie’s secret (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

Warnings: reference to addiction and use of drugs, curse words, fluff

annie's 500 followers celebration ✨ (NOW CLOSED)

"Something's up with him." Pope sighs as he puts down his beer.

Frankie had just entered the bar with a huge smile on his face and was now headed towards the counter.

"He's been acting weird lately..." Benny huffs and shakes his head, Pope and Will nod silently.

"You guys think...?" the youngest Miller asks as he glances at Frankie, and then looks at the others.

"I hope not. I really do." Pope lowers his head and stares at the table's wood grains, lost in thought: Frankie is like a brother to him, and to think that he could have relapsed and fallen down that wagon again makes his blood freeze.

"Hi guys," Frankie joins them and takes a seat at the table "what's with the long faces?"

No answer.

"Fish," Pope takes a deep breath and turns to him "I want you to look at me and tell me what's going on."

Frankie's eyes widen and he lets out a nervous laugh, his gaze darts between Will and Benny before settling back on Pope's face.

"What do you mean? Nothing's going on." he says, indignant, crossing his arms and letting his body language speak.

"Fish," Pope glares at him, his nostrils flaring "just... tell me you're not doing that shit again."

"Christ," he unfolds his arms and opens them "why would I? I'm clean and I'm done with that shit! What's wrong with you, uh?" he starts to gets up from the table and looks at the two brothers for back up, but they stare back at him in complete silence.

"Fish, please." Pope tries to reason with him, but he won’t listen.

"We’re worried, Fish." Benny rests both elbows on the table and looks at him "You’ve been acting strangely, avoiding us at times, you’re not answering your calls, you’re always sneaking around suspiciously and... we’re concerned."

"There’s nothing to be worried about," Frankie puts his right hand above his heart "I swear."

***

It’s Saturday morning when Benny stops at a water fountain to freshen up a bit after his routine morning run. As he catches his breath, a familiar figure walking on the other side of the road captures his attention: Frankie is holding two large paper bags that look like they're filled with food, a joyful expression painted on his face.

Benny doesn’t remember ever seeing him that happy, and he chuckles at that scene before squinting his eyes and noticing that the logo printed on the bags is the one of a famous bakery located at the end of the street.

Driven by curiosity, Benny jogs towards the bakery, a perfect excuse to investigate while buying something for breakfast.

As soon as he enters the small shop, the delicious smell of freshly baked bread and pastries makes his mouth water, and a gorgeous girl greets him from behind the counter.

“How can I help you, sir?” you asks him in a lovely voice as you adjust your apron.

“I’d like to get one of those croissants, please.” Benny points at the pastry behind you and you nod, turning your back to him and putting the croissant into a paper bag before handing it to him.

“Anything else?”

“Well,” Benny gets closer to the counter “Francisco Morales, do you know him?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you nod “he’s my boyfirend. Why?”

“Your what?! ” Benny’s eyebrows rise with surprise at your words.

“My boyfriend, we've been dating for a little over a month now.”

“Oh, that explains a lot of things.” he shakes his head with a smile.

“Wait, are you one of his Delta Force...?”

“Yeah, I’m Benny.” he says, extending his hand to you, and you introduce yourself.

“He’s talked a lot about you, Pope and Will. I'm finally able to put a face to name.” you glance at him as you serve another customer.

“Well," Benny sucks his teeth “no offence, but he’s never mentioned you, I didn’t have any idea he had a girlfriend... ”

“I know. Frankie’s been through a lot, I think he really wants to be sure before sharing something with the people around him." you sigh and Benny nods.

"Well, it was nice to meet you. I'll see you at the party then." he waves at you and leaves the bakery as he takes a bite of his croissant.

***

It's evening when Benny, Pope and Will practically invite themselves at Frankie's house to watch some football.

"You got anything to eat?" Pope asks him as he gets up from the couch and stretches his back.

"Yeah, help yourself. Mi casa es tu casa." Frankie exhales as he watches the game, attentive eyes glued to the screen.

Pope walks into the kitchen and opens the first two cabinets, finding them filled with biscuits and pastries of all sorts. He huffs and opens another cabinet in search of something savory, but its content is the same as the other ones: pastries.

"Fish, what the fuck is this?" he shouts from the kitchen.

Frankie and the other guys rush to him, and Benny's mouth falls open at the amount of baked products stored in the kitchen cabinets, and he smiles to himself.

"That's a lot of pastries." Will steps forward and grabs a plastic container filled with small squares of millefeuille.

"I can explain." Frankie puts his hands up apologetically and takes a deep breath.

Pope and Will look at him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anxiety, while Benny tries to keep his composure.

"I have a girlfriend and..." Frankie sighs "she's a baker."

"Wow, okay, so this is..." Pope looks around, pointing at all the food.

"Yeah, this is all her work."

"And I guess that's the reason why you've been acting weird lately, uh?" Benny steps closer to him and he nods.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Pope punches his arm playfully "When are we meeting her?"

"Next week, at my birthday party."

***

"You think they like me?" you ask as you help Frankie clean everything up after the party.

"They love you, babe." he walks over to you and places his hands on your hips "Especially Benny I would say. Please, don't run away with him." he adds, pouting a little.

"You don't have to worry, he's not my type." you shake your head and wrap your arms around his neck, caressing his nape with your thumbs.

"Yeah?" he cocks an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah," you nod firmly "he's not you, he's not my Frankie."

Frankie beams at you and rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes for a moment as you get lost in the warmth of his brown ones.

"I... maybe it's too soon for you, but," he sighs, closing his eyes "I think I love you."

"Frankie..."

"I'm sure." he nods, putting his hands on your shoulders "But you don't have to say it back if you're not ready, it's alr-"

"Will you shut up!" you exclaim, putting your index finger on his mouth to silence him.

Frankie gulps and keeps quiet, staring back at you with those adorable puppy eyes.

"I love you, too."

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @withakindheartx @myguiltypleasures21 @computeringturtle @lilpopizzle @sara-alonso @radiowallet @evelynseventyr @thatgirlselectryc  @shadowolf993 @janebby @kirsteng42 @cheekygeek05 @jenacide02 @t3rradactyl @anditsmywholeheart @andiesturgss @tothejedi @mswarriorbabe80 @spideysimpossiblegirl @sunfairyy @sleep-tight1 @jediknight122 @carstwirs @donnaa @miulola @jeeperky @the-wishmonger @aana4664 @hnt-escape @agingerindenial @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @hb8301 @jediknight122 @snow302085 @elegantduckturtle @darnitdraco @omlwhatamidoinghere @heythere-mel @tobealostwanderer @serini-ty

FRANKIE TAGLIST: @hunnambabe @writeforfandoms @linnie0119 @shinymoonstarfish @gingib @pedritoispunk @audreyispunk

[fukurodaze]

you!

pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader genre: fluff, an atsumu and reader meet cute!! word count: 2.1k warnings: light cursing synopsis: atsumu may or may not have developed a tiny crush on karasuno’s substitute manager.

requested by anon <3 aah i’m so sorry i kind of changed the plot slightly :))

special thanks to maddie @prettysetterakaashi​ for the beta <3

LISTEN TO: all about you - nct u

the first time you meet miya atsumu, he is seventeen, wearing his number seven jersey, and so ready to whoop your team’s (and, really, anyone else’s) ass.

the arena is much bigger than you had dreamed - much like the ones you’d seen on television - like the sendai gymnasium, but multiply it by four. it’s loud, overwhelming, and teeming of air-tight pressure. you swear you could almost hear it: the wavering heartbeats, the rolling cameras, the competitive atmosphere.

maybe you had overdressed just a little bit. turned your tracksuit into a stylish oversized-padded-jacket-baggy-pants-tight-shirt situation. (you absolutely blushed when kiyoko said you were pretty today.)

out of the crowd of volleyball players gathered before the opening ceremony, you spot a faux blonde tuft of hair and a loud voice accompanying it. he nags at one of his teammates as he stuffs his coat in his bag. 

broad back. sloped shoulders. the number seven.

“say, is that inarizaki’s setter you talked about from camp?” slightly motioning to the side, you ask your fellow first-year, kageyama tobio.

kageyama nods sharply, “yes. why?”

“yachi told me that if we win the first match, we’ll be up against them. i heard they were runner ups for the last interhigh,” you mutter, “whew, scary.”

and extremely handsome, you want to say.

there’s a pause, and you continue, “i mean, not that we’re guaranteed to win the first match anyways. it’s nationals...”

kageyama shrugs at your statement, “it’s nationals.”

you remember yachi had told you to have faith in the boys. 

so when you heard the whistle on game point announcing karasuno’s victory on the first round, you couldn’t help but mumble an ‘i knew it’ under your breath by the bleachers.

but as you cheered, yellow water bottles in hand, voice an octave higher, you swore you felt a pair of eyes that ogled at you from the second floor. 

your senses were correct - miya atsumu was wondering what kind of volleyball team had someone as cute as you in all of japan. 

“eyes on their plays, not the managers.” miya osamu’s hand lands square on his twin’s back, earning a surprise yelp in response.

“they’re not even playing anymore! they just won!” atsumu gestures dramatically, but he keeps looking your way. 

“well ya better keep yer eyes on the ball tomorrow-”

“-and YOU need ‘ta jump higher for our new quicks.”

osamu sighs, and as they hear their coach calling them down, the two leave the second floor balcony in rare silence. he figures his brother might have developed a little crush on karasuno’s substitute manager. it was always common for his brother to develop some kind of attraction to someone from somewhere far, yet the way atsumu’s staring so intently has him thinking he might actually want to do something about you. 

“you’re weird,” osamu snickers.

atsumu furrows his brows in joking offence. “-isn’t that, like, rude?”

atsumu wasn’t, isn’t, and will never be the kind of guy who loses sight of the ball. ever. 

he reckons his peripheral vision has widened for this match and this match only, seeing as he feels an extra pair of eyes on him.

for some reason, he feels the need to play around a bit more today.

his sets vary even more in tempo, he’s spiked more than usual, and he can’t stop moving. it doesn’t help either that inarizaki’s ten-point lead in the second set only fuels his playtime. anything to rack up some more points.

although he’s stuck with jump floaters, he thinks flipping off karasuno’s super libero is almost enough to make up for his lack of jump serves, so he savours every time he’s in the back right, ready to serve. 

he doesn’t mind the gasps that come out of your mouth when he lands a service ace, either.

and as the set point goes to inarizaki with a lead that just seemed so right, atsumu promises himself to come up to you once inarizaki wins. 

he knows he’s going to win. 

his shoes feel light on the rubber floor, like he could squat down and bend back and jump up all he wants. his muscles are working hard, and his senses are on point. 

when he looks around, seeing the teammates he knows can catch his sets and karasuno preparing their defense, his eyes instead flutter to you, in the corner on the benches, holding desperately onto two yellow water bottles. you’re wearing a normal tracksuit this time, but he still thinks it’s cute. 

he tries not to think of you between rallies. not about how he’d like to see you cheer for him when he crushes your team. not about how he’s found the perfect dinner spot near the gymnasium to take you out to after the win. not about the satisfaction he’ll feel after seeing little tobio’s defeat and your hand in his. (assuming that a first date involves holding hands - atsumu’s never been on one.)

so, with only the third set left to win, atsumu doesn’t bother asking what could go wrong. because he knows to make sure that nothing, nothing at all, will result in a loss for inarizaki. 

oh, how he was wrong. 

when karasuno’s frustratingly good first year duo blocks his ball and sends it plummeting to the edge of the court, atsumu knows that the whistle that follows means that this might even be the last time he sees you this year - and what if you’re not at nationals next year?

the sting of losing comes first as the usual shaking hands and lining up to bow commences after the game, and as he says some last words to his teammates and school, he catches sight of you hugging the team’s other beautiful manager. you have tears of joy threatening to fall out of the corners of your eyes, and he admits you look precious with the edges of your mouth upturned and your cheekbones raised in a victorious smile. 

he wants to see you like this with him. although he doesn’t know you at all, he doesn’t want to miss you; yet he can’t pinpoint why.

so after calling to hinata and telling him he’ll “set for him someday” (it was half-spite and half-promise, but it came out as a threat), atsumu’s gaze fixes on the back of the other side of the court at the benches where you are. 

“‘tsumu, let’s go,” osamu calls back at him, and it brings him back to reality.

except reality’s a loss where he doesn’t get to see you in his life ever again. and though he’ll accept the outcome of a national-level volleyball match, he knows he can do something to at least catch up with you - he’s still got a few days in tokyo, after all.

“ah screw it!” atsumu mumbles to himself, and begins to suck up his pride. what he’s about to do will be either extremely embarrassing or extremely endearing, he thinks.

he walks up to the karasuno bench where you’re at the side, packing up the water bottles in a duffle bag to carry. you’re squatting down, unseeing of him, until there are a few footsteps and the feeling of a person behind you. you turn around, and it makes you stand up quickly.

you look at the setter, bleached hair untoned and face oddly satisfying to look at. you had paid a little too much attention to him during the opening ceremony, and though you had suppressed the knowledge of his ogling at you from yesterday, you can’t help but feel your attraction to the setter worsen with him right in front of you.

“you. meet me at the entrance,” atsumu invites, and though his face is obviously burning red, something about his words make your heart pump a little too fast.

it doesn’t take much contemplation to figure out your answer is yes. yet, somehow, saying yes while your heart suddenly changes its pace takes a little bit more time than you thought.

you’re about to reply when you see osamu call his brother loudly, making atsumu’s eyes go wide in embarrassment. you stifle a laugh, and you give him a subtle nod, though judging by the way he runs like he’s chasing an out-of-bounds ball, you reckon he might not have seen you. 

again, you’re correct - atsumu thinks he’s just witnessed his own death, running fast at one of his only attempts at ever asking someone out. 

how does one ask someone out? is it, like, ‘hey, wanna go on a date’? or is it, like, ‘hey i like you and i think you’re pretty and i tried to find you on instagram but i don’t know your name’? he agrees with himself that it’s safer to say the former.

atsumu is pulled back to his team, embarrassment seeping through his senses from his asking out on top of that familiar sting of losing. he changes into his sweatpants and jacket in silence, backpack worn tightly around his shoulders as the rest of the team walks through the venue.

“'samu, have you ever been turned down by a girl?” atsumu tries his best not to sound like he’s sulking (he is).

osamu hums, “what did you do to karasuno’s manager?”

“ugh, not telling.”

meanwhile, burning excitement and far-fetched fantasies finally hit you. 

your heart now beats fast - maybe not as fast as when karasuno had anticipated atsumu’s serve, but still fast - and you’re not sure what kinds of chances you’ll get in the future. 

there is an internal debate: there’s no denying the mutual attraction, so why stop? you want to tell yourself that nationals is for volleyball and for you to fill in for your friend yachi, but his words repeat themselves in your head, and it’s only mere seconds that pass before you know exactly what to do.

you come up to kiyoko, and she replies with a kind hum. you ask, “can i go... uh, buy some souvenirs real quick? i’ll bring this bag with the water bottles with me.”

she looks around first, “ah, how long will you be gone?”

“not long.”

“well, the boys are going to change, so, alright. don’t get lost, okay?”

“okay!” your feet bring you out of the court area, and into the maze of the gymnasium. (you have no idea where you’re going.)

it makes you think; is this all worth it for the stranger miya atsumu? maybe. maybe not. but you’ve gotten the chance - might as well take it. 

there are things you whisper to yourself as you run around the foyer, unsure of which entrance he’d be most likely to meet you in, so you end up running to all of them. there are around five entrances total.

“this is so stupid,” is one of the things you whisper to yourself.

“he’s not even that cute,” is another.

“why couldn’t he just ask me out normally?” a sigh at the second entrance.

“ugh, but he’s... so good at volleyball,” a remark at the third entrance.

and finally, at the fifth entrance all the way at the back, “you!” 

that is when you spot that familiar tuft of untoned bleached hair, swept to the left, his maroon club jacket replacing his jersey. you hope you’re not seeing a mirage, seeing as he hadn’t looked back when you first exclaimed of your presence. 

your voice is louder and more embarrassing than his, “miya atsumu!”

now he looks. 

now he turns red.

you see his brother osamu with some kind of amused grin as you grab onto the setter’s club jacket, dragging him somewhere. you mumble an ‘excuse me’ to his brother, and he surprisingly nods.

when you drag atsumu into a secluded corner still inside the venue, his face is bright red like you remember it. you let go of his arm, and it makes you cringe to see how you had literally just pulled japan’s number one high school setter by his sleeve.

“what was that?” atsumu fixes his bag. he tries to hide his incoming grin.

“you- you told me to meet you at the entrance,” you fumble with the ends of your jacket, “so i did.”

“huh,” atsumu mutters, matter-of-factly. he sounds amused. he looks at you with a smile. “i’m glad.”

there’s a silence as he offers to carry your bag. you let him.

“i know this place near this venue, do you- do you want to go there sometime?”

your ears perk up - it’s exactly what you want to hear. now, there is no contemplation.

you inhale. “yeah. i would like that.”

atsumu takes a deep breath, and he smiles like a happy child. you tell him your full name, and he tells you his, even though he knows you already know it.

it turns out, the first time you really meet miya atsumu, he is seventeen, wearing his dishevelled maroon club jacket, and so not ready to miss you.

and thank god; he was definitely going to see you again.

[taelme]

Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request:  - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students -  anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!)  - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst) 

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao)  Lucas )

word count: 18k 

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess 

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye 

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.  

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.


Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.  

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.  

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.  

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.


“Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.” 


Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter. 


“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.  

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.


Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."


Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.  

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am -  ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?” 


Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.


Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.


Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.  

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like


10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”


You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.


You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and  glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Hi Em✨

I absolutely love your writing and your posts and I’ve been following you for a while now💕

I’m not sure about you but I feel quite uneasy/conflicted with the current rhetoric on book tok. I understand people not liking certain books but it’s been hard to see people slander books and the people that like those books/characters/stories,etc. I get that criticism is needed for certain themes or values that appear in books but reading is loosing some of its escapism for me:(

Reading in context (fictionally and in the real world) is always needed but sometimes I just like a book because of the characters or it’s story and not necessarily that it checks all the boxes for being perfect.

Tbh, as much as I love certain books, some of them have become tainted for me and I genuinely wish I didn’t I read other people’s opinions on them.

Book tok is great for reccs but I can’t even filter it out of my feed at this point. I kinda wish toxic fandoms also looked inwardly because as much fun it is to engage with fans and people that are apart of that fandom, some people take it way too far such as sending hateful anons to creators (such as you🥺) or calling books trash when they’ve been super influential or important to people.

I guess my little rant is over but I was wondering if you had any opinions on this or have any sort of guidance. Is there a place I could get reccs or how can avoid all of this rhetoric that can affect my view of a book.”?

Stay safe and have a good day✨💐

hi there, nonnie! thank you so much for the kind words, i really appreciate you 🥺❤️❤️

first off, i want to say that i 100% understand this. i never really got into booktok specifically because i had a feeling it was basically going to be book twitter 2.0 where everyone is just ripping into each other constantly. i don't like being influenced by other people's opinions either, and the drama that seems to be obligatory baggage for most fandoms these days (with the exception of TFOTA, cos for some reason we are extraordinarily chill) just isn't for me.

it is, of course, essential that we continue to think critically when it comes to media. it's the only way we can affect change in a positive direction. but this also must be balanced with a willingness to be humble with our opinions, understand that they are just opinions, and accept that everyone consumes media for different reasons.

this also means we'll all hold different boundaries about what we're willing to consume, and where we draw the line for things we won't consume. granted, books might be the mirror through which we see life reflected, but they are not reality itself. to a certain extent, fiction is fiction. and different boundaries does not a bad person make.

speaking of drawing lines, i'm going to direct you to this post by @bookofmirth , which is mainly about ACOTAR/SJM/Palestine but some of what they have to say there is very applicable to this topic, and eloquently put:

"Some people can separate art from artist. Some can't. It's up to all of us as individuals to draw that line where we are comfortable."

i agree with this statement wholeheartedly. it is not up to randomgal4549 on tiktok/twitter to decide what eye should or should not read. the unmitigated gall of anyone to think their opinion should dictate other people's choices is highly presumptuous and quite frankly exhausting.

apart from maybe the bible/other religious texts, what a person reads is not a reflection of who they are or what beliefs they hold. we need to learn not to conflate the two, and start regarding each other once more as humans with complex thoughts and feelings, capable of introspection and growth, instead of little icons on our phone screens with immovable and absolute beliefs.

so that's my opinion on that. my main advice to you would be KEEP THINGS ORGANISED. what i mean by that is this:

curate your social media experience! it is YOUR responsibility as an owner of any social media account (including tumblr) to customise your space to fit YOUR needs. if you don't like someone's opinion/content? unfollow. if someone is rude/you don't like their vibe? block. if you find the things someone shares to their socials offensive? unfriend. this is setting boundaries, and the people who take any of these things as a personal offence are the exact people you want to keep a healthy distance away from. you decide who you follow and what you see on your dash. be protective of your space and who you allow to have access to your energy.

keep personal feelings separate from the public! i honestly can't stress this point enough. if you feel the need to rant about something that irks you about a specific book/author/person's opinion, keep these discussions in the DMs with a trusted circle of friends. it is psychologically proven that when someone feels attacked, they will double down on their og opinion, no matter if they realise they're wrong. thus, projecting high-strung emotions into public spaces such as twitter, while understandable in some cases, will only serve to further polarise people and hurt the very movement you're likely trying to bolster. blow off steam with people you can entrust with your emotions. NOT strangers on the internet.

designate time to learning about issues that are important to you! i strongly advise against turning to any fictional medium for moral lessons or life advice. if you can dedicate some time outside of your escapism to inform yourself about important subjects through educational resources that are specifically designed to Teach/Impart Knowledge, instead of giving an ounce of thought to Intrinsically Biased Information Received Second Hand, i promise you you'll feel a whole lot less obligated to other people's opinions.

if you're unsure about a particular book/author, consider borrowing from your local library, purchasing the book second hand, or finding an ePub copy.

for recs, consider booktube. i know it's probably seen as a bit old school by now, but the great thing about youtube is that you're not randomly/unexpectedly subjected to other people's shit opinions like on other social platforms. you have to click a link to watch the video, which gives you more autonomy in regards to what opinions you consume. my personal favourite youtuber is Khadija Mbowe. she's not a booktuber, per se, but her content focuses on in-depth critical analysis of media/society through the lense of WOC (specifically Black women), and i find her channel compelling as well as informative.

goodreads is also a great place to find book recs without the constant influx of opinions. if you can find yourself a circle of trusted friends to follow on there, you can't go wrong. my goodreads is linked in my bio under "connect" and you're welcome to follow me there. or not! it's your choice.

–Em 🖤🗡

[haleigh-sloth]

No offence to the anon since everyone has their op’s, but I’ll take SaS over E, Hawks, and BJ any day 😂 At least she’s doing something (albeit not the best actions but alas) over standing around feeling sorry for themselves and doing nothing acting like current hero society is ok (minus Hawks bringing up change in that one chapter)

Whoa slow your roll there lol

Look I agree with most of what you said

But S&S is not there to point out how wrong Japan’s hero system is. Especially because apparently the USA developed the shit system Japan uses in the first place.

But no I agree with the rest, regarding the chapters rather than S&S vs E, Hox, and BJ

I don’t particularly care about S&S but, she’s a plot device and she’s going to serve her role as such.

The chapter we just got wasn’t interesting, but it still contributed to the plot in a way. Shigaraki is losing himself, and he’s about to be lost completely until someone saves him and drags him out. Like at least it still contributes to one of the main conflicts and contributes to Shigaraki’s spiral downward. Yeah I’m annoyed at all the fan service of the USA hero lady but—this is still significantly better than that cursed villain hunt arc. God.

[mae-gi-writes]

The Fine Line | Juyeon (The Boyz Imagine)

Requested! Prince Juyeon! au x Royal Guard! Reader. 

In which you’re stuck with the most disorderly prince of Nuine, Juyeon. 

To anon: this fic took me so long to write and I am so sorry for being so late. BUT i hope that you like the end result and that I made your idea justice! Please do let me know :) <3 Stay safe and stay healthy <3 xx Thanks so much for requesting! 

Genre: fluff, crack-ish? Just all the good stuff. 

---------

"Your Highness ,no."

"Come on Y/N, don't you want to try a teeny tiny piece?"

"I said no."

"Ah come on! It's just a bite!"

"No."

Juyeon finally threw both hands in the air with exaggerated exasperation, "you're really no fun."

"I'm not on duty to have fun, if I might remind you," Y/N snapped, barely keeping hold of her neutral facade when the prince kept acting in such a foolish manner, definitely not like how royalty should behave and yet, the king had stuck her with their youngest son, Juyeon, who knew nothing of royal pride nor did he care about where his family came from.

That wasn't what unnerved her though. What did was the fact that Juyeon thought he was free to do as he pleased, whenever he pleased, and it didn't matter whether he was prince or not. That, in itself, was a motto than did not run smoothly in Y/N's mind.

She was a proud soldier, one that had climbed through the ranks at lightning speed because of her amazing dexterity and talent in wielding weapons as though they were water and she was mother nature.

But she hadn't signed up for this, a.k.a babysitting the most irresponsible royal family member of Nuine.

Except -- she kinda liked him.

And not just as a friend, or a mere man. 

She really liked him, and that only fuelled her hatred. Why would she like such an incompetent man in the first place? It must be the hormones! At least, that was what she had come to the conclusion, before realizing that there was much more to this little crush than she thought there was.

Juyeon sat on the ground of the royal garden, legs crossed as he observed her with alert eyes, "do you ever smile?"

Y/N didn't bother answering him. Though she had a huge urge to just roll her eyes.

"I don't get it. You were so happy and nice when we were young," his orbs were calculating, deep with thought as he surveyed her as though she was a book he couldn't quite decipher, "what happened to you?"

"Life happened. Not everyone gets to spend their days doing nothing like you."

The heat of his gaze did nothing to help, and she found strength in her feet to stop herself from squirming.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his crossed knees, the prince tilted his head in curiosity, no trace of offence whatsoever on his face despite her harsh reply.

"What?" She barked.

“Did I do something to you?” 

“Huh?” 

Juyeon tilted his head to the other side, “what did I do for you to be so pissed that you have this permanent grudge against me?” 

“I don’t have a grudge,” she huffed. 

“Okay so, why then?” 

"Just because, Juyeon. Not everything I do needs to have a reason.” 

He puffed up his cheeks like a blowfish, “Jeez, you’re really mean Y/N. I just wanted to be friendly, make conversation you know?” 

It might have been true that during their childhood, Y/N and Juyeon had been very close, practically attached at the hip even. Because of her father being appointed head of the Royal Guards serving the Majesty of Nuine, Y/N was always around roaming the halls and lifting weapons much too heavy for her spaghetti arms. But her interest had been there since her young age, her passion for fighting and the natural talent that came with weapon wielding a skill that her family had recognized very early on. 

So it was no surprise that she got enrolled in the nearest soldier academy despite her mother’s protests, following right into her father’s footsteps and gladly acing all midterm tests with flying colours. 

Everything changed one dark night, when her father died.

After that, Y/N had never really been the same. Did she blame the Royal Family for his death? Not really, it was in their job description after all.

But did she resent Juyeon for having lived a sheltered life all his life? Maybe so. 

It was selfish of her. Though, it wasn’t like she could control herself. 

A few days later found the pair in the middle of Nuine's street food market, with Juyeon craning his neck in curiosity over the multitudes of heads inclined towards a stall in particular.

Y/N tugged on his shirt sleeve, "your majesty, I think we should go."

"Oh but wait, this is the best part," Juyeon insisted without peeling his eyes away from the said cook behind the stall. As if on cue, the cook flipped what seemed to be an omelette pancake in the air.

The crowd gasped as the pancake flipped twice on itself, before landing securely on an already-prepared plate.

"Wow!" People burst into applause almost immediately while the chef bowed and extended the pancake to his most recent order.

"Alright," Y/N was already turning, one hand gripping Juyeon's arm in warning, "we've seen enough--"

She was tugged back instead as the prince moved forward until he reached the front of the stall, a crooked grin dancing across his lips as he peered at the cook from underneath his cloak.

"Can I have an omelette please?" Juyeon asked while ignoring the dagger eyes coming from Y/N's direction.

"Tomatoes? Olives? Onions? Ham?" As the cook listed all his ingredients, Juyeon merely nodded along and Y/N let out a trepid sigh. Her foot started tapping on the ground, impatient.

"Juyeon, you know what your mother said about--"

"Oh it's fine, Y/N. Live a little."

"But--"

"If anything happens -- and it won't," he hurriedly added as she opened her mouth to protest, "then I'll take full responsibility."

"And I will lose my job," she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

------

And of course, considering Juyeon's luck, something was bound to happen.

It was only mid-afternoon -- a few hours after they had returned to the Kingdom, that the prince doubled over due to a stomach ache, coiling so bad that sweat broke over his forehead and his mouth was a tense, thin line of pain.

"I told you so," Y/N tutted while helping him maneuver his way into the bathroom, head practically buried into her neck as he groaned in pain.

"Y/N really? Right now?" he all but groaned against her.

She was about to find a snarky comeback, only for the prince to lurch himself straight at the toilet bowl. Disgusting noises echoed through the room and Y/N turned away from the scene briefly, her own stomach twisting into tight knots. 

Y/N was strong, yes. But have someone throw up in front of her? Even smelling that? No way. She could live without that.

When he was done heaving twice more, now sprawled across the toilet bowl as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she judged him with a smug look. 

“See, this would never have happened if you had only listened--” 

Juyeon held up a hand, silencing her, “not now, please.” 

He really did look awful. His usually tan skin was the colour of chalk, fingers holding so tightly over the toilet lid that his knuckles flushed white. As he tried lifting himself from his position, his knees buckled and he would’ve face planted on the ground if not for Y/N’s arms quickly holding him up against her. 

Silently, she moved him back to his bedroom before tucking him underneath his covers, all the while avoiding his gaze that seemed to poke through her countenance with an emotion she couldn’t quite explain.

And then, came the tiniest murmur, “sorry.” 

Y/N paused for a moment. Her eyes fluttered to his face. 

Juyeon gazed back, hooded eyes seemingly genuine to apologize, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

She quickly swallowed, “it’s fine.” 

There was a soft pause in which Juyeon’s heavy breaths filled the air. It was suddenly warm in his room, maybe because the thick curtains were now drawn against the slow-setting sunset off the coast of Nuine’s edge, the light a vibrant golden slithering through the wine-coloured drapes. Feeling suddenly vulnerable and out of place, Y/N stood up from her crouching position at his side, causing the man’s eyes to flutter up at her movement. 

“Where are you going?” He asked as she made to move towards the door. When she glanced back, she couldn’t help but notice the confusion on his face as he blinked up at her like an over-sized man child. 

“I thought you’d like to rest, your Highness,” she replied stiffly. 

Another pause. 

Then, in the smallest voice possible, Juyeon mumbled out: 

“Could you--stay? With me?” 

She blinked, “stay? With--” 

And then the words made sense in her head. 

“Uh--” her cheeks coloured instantly at the thought of being so close to a man. Or maybe it was because it was Juyeon, or it was the heat! Right! Totally made sense that it was the heat. Her mouth moved before her brain did: “Sure.” 

What in the name of Nuine are you doing? Her brain screamed at her the moment she sat herself down on the bed’s edge, Juyeon’s body instantly curling up against hers with his head resting upon her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 “Uhm--” Y/N’s brain blanked out at the warmth of Juyeon’s head against her thigh, “what are you doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” as he spoke, his breath washed against her legs and goosebumps suddenly erupted along the skin there. She shifted uneasily, trying to force herself to stay still despite the fact that there was a full grown man lying down on her like a cat in need of affection.

“Can you pet me?”

His question threw her off guard. She blinked down at him, at the way his eyelashes were casting dark shadows over his cheeks, “What?” 

“My mom used to pet me whenever I was sick,” he murmured, one of his hands grabbing her own before placing it atop his own tuft of hair, “it used to calm me down, make me go sleep.”

“I’m your guard, Juyeon. Not your personal maid.” 

He let out a long sigh, then dropped her hand, “Fine then.” 

The silence that followed felt so thick and coated with an awkward kind of tension that she knew, without reading Juyeon’s expression, that he was currently mad at her. Trust him to be a little brat about it. Usually, Y/N wouldn’t even spare him a second glance. That kind of behaviour was one of a five year old child, one that she wasn’t going to tolerate.

But maybe it was the fact that he was being so dependent, maybe it was the closeness of their two physical bodies and the lack of distance between them. In any case, her heart melted slightly when she felt him shift in her lap and before she knew it, her hand had moved on its own to caress down the side of his skull.

The sight that left Juyeon’s mouth was laden with such satisfaction that it sent shivers running up her spine. He proceeded to nuzzle his nose right into her thighs, causing her to yelp slightly. 

His head snapped up, “what?” 

She recovered quickly though, snapping, “I want to make myself clear, Juyeon. I am not, and will not be, some kind of mistress that you bring to your quarters whenever you feel like it. I’m your Royal Guard.” 

“Jesus Y/N,” the prince turned so that he was facing upwards, gaze landing right onto hers without flinching, “Is that the image you have of me? That I take advantage of everything that moves?”

Suddenly embarrassed, she cleared her throat, “That’s not what I said. I just wanted to let you know.” 

“I know you’re not.” 

“Okay good. Just so that I make myself clear on where I stand.” 

“I wish you didn’t though,” his murmur was a low one, but still one that reached her ears and prompted her to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Her question was only met with stubborn silence, which made sense, as she might see how Juyeon might have taken this as an offensive use of words. But she’d never been one to beat around the bush and had always been passive aggressive whenever Juyeon was concerned.

Once, she thought that she actually liked him.

And maybe she had. But instead of falling straight into that pool of romantic feeling, Y/N had just brushed it aside, already deciding for herself that it was never going to happen and that she shouldn’t keep her hopes up.

That was, in part, why she was used to being so cold and distant.

It was the only way she could protect herself, make the prince hate her.

She was about to let it go and change the subject, when his words pierced through the air like needles, “what is it about me that you can’t stand?” 

Her hand froze in mid-stroke, still entangled in his dark locks. 

His gaze was so intense she felt him burn holes through her skull.

Y/N cleared her throat. Looked away. 

“I--I don’t hate you,” she finally managed to whisper.

“I know you don’t,” Juyeon’s dark eyes were still surveying her every movement, “but can you be honest with me? What is it with me that you can’t stand? It’s almost like--I don’t know. You don’t even look at me when we talk. You barely acknowledge me sometimes, and you never try. With my brothers it’s like--it’s like you’re this completely different person. You talk to them, you laugh. Why don’t we have that? What did I do Y/N?” 

“You did nothing.” 

“If I did nothing, then why aren’t you looking at me?” 

It feels all too real suddenly; the heat radiating from Juyeon’s body, the intense emotion swimming through his dark brown swirls even though she couldn’t muster the courage to actually lock gazes with him, and the weight of his head on her lap as though they were blissfully in love and comfortable in each other’s presence. 

Her eyes quickly flitted to the golden descending rays dancing along the curtains, anything to keep her away from his probing stare, “I...” 

“What?” Juyeon pressed on, “tell me.” 

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she kept quiet. 

“Okay,” Juyeon sighed once more. Then without warning, he hoisted himself up before his face suddenly zoomed in on hers, so close that she couldn’t help but fall back against the headboard as he dipped his head down so that it was level with hers. 

Her heart speeding up, Y/N tried not to focus on the lack of distance between them. Though that was quite a hard feat, considering he was everywhere she looked.

Sitting there in Juyeon’s bed, with him trapping her from any sort of escape felt as though she was on the brink of a cliff being pressured to jump when she clearly had no intention to. But when she opened her mouth to protest, Juyeon’s eyes snapped up to hers in a way that told her words weren’t going to work, not anytime soon.

She swallowed thickly.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if it was anyone else,” once he started, it was almost like the flow of words were suddenly too much for him to keep in. He kept on going, voice closing up with emotion, “but it’s you, Y/N. No matter how much I try not to think about it...I do. A lot. And I--I hate it, the way you don’t even seem to acknowledge my existence. I just--I just want to get along with you because I--” 

Before she knew what she was doing, one of her hands had shot out to yank his shirt, with him toppling over before she landed a kiss smack on his lips.

Juyeon stared, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, jaw slack in naked surprise. 

“Wh--What was that?” he stuttered, a red blushing mess that she would’ve made fun of, if she hadn’t been trying to stop herself from being just as red as he was.

“Look Juyeon, I might hold some feelings for you,” Y/N said it outright though her cheeks were flaming ablaze with heat, “but I just hated you so much, after my dad died. I--I couldn’t look at you without thinking of his death and I tried really hard to loathe your guts. But then...” she shook her head, bit down onto her bottom lip as she chewed on the words that were about to fall from her mouth, “but then, I just--couldn’t. Hate you, I mean.” 

“S-So you--you’re telling me that you-- that you might -- that--” he was gesturing so wildly she thought he might faint from shock. Breathing out softly and pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to regain his balance. Then, he opened them once more, “you like me. But you hate me.” 

“Tried to,” she corrected him.

“That--That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N.” 

“Yes it does! I liked you, then I hated you. And then I hated that I liked you because I just couldn’t hate you--”  His hands were suddenly at her hips, “Enough talk,” and no sooner had she tried figuring out what that meant that the young man was dragging her over to his lap before his mouth pressed down onto hers in a passionate kiss. 

Y/N tensed for a few seconds, before her body slowly melted in his embrace as his mouth moved slowly over her own, a sinuous dance of lower lip against her upper ones while his arms tightened their hold around her waist. She gasped softly at the feeling of his hard frame against her curves, causing the prince’s mouth to tilt up in a smirk as he progressed the intensity of his kisses. Mouth chasing her own with a hunger she had never been victim to, one of Juyeon’s hands didn’t hesitate to ghost up her arm, along the back of her neck, to mess up her tight ponytail so that her dark hair fell around her shoulders like a curtain. 

There was a soft throaty rumble that signalled his approval of this newfound hairstyle, before he slanted his lips even further by tilting his head. Kissed her deeper, with longer strokes and with his tongue slowly introducing itself into her mouth. It was almost like she was being consumed by his entire being, her breath being taken away every time she tried to as she drowned into Juyeon’s ocean of feelings that seemed to emanate in the form of every kiss, every touch, every line of his body that aligned with hers and set fire to her skin.

Only when her back met with the soft foam of the mattress that realization trickled through her mind like icy water. Unlatching their lips with a soft ‘pop’ and scrambling back against the headboard, she looked up, right into Juyeon’s hungry, predatory gaze, one that swam with full-fledged desire, a thirst that she had never seen on the young prince’s face before.

“Juyeon?” her whisper was breathless, and she felt like slapping herself for sounding so needy. 

“No,” he let out a soft growl, leaning over her body with his arms settling on either side of her head. HIs mouth started a slow, sensual path of kisses that trailed up her neck, leaving fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, “you’re not talking. You’re not telling me off, not now. Not tonight,” he nipped at a small patch of skin right under her jaw and the girl squirmed, desire rippling through her veins and shooting right down south. It didn’t help that every inch of his muscular frame was pressed against hers as though demanding her to beg for what he could give her.

“Please tell me you’re not playing around,” came Y/N’s soft spoken murmur. She hoped that he didn’t hear it. But it was Juyeon, and Juyeon heard everything that concerned him.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else, Y/N,” his eyes locked onto hers and she saw his gaze brimming with a vulnerability, a tenderness that shook her to her core and made her heart flip upside down, “you of all people should know that.” 

“So you like me?” she hated how squeaky her voice sounded. He only let out the softest of chuckles, before he leant down to peck her on the mouth, “yes. Yes Y/N. I kinda like you a whole damn lot.” 

[bonniebird]

Lucifer x Reader

Requested by Anon

Lucifer had been overly kind to you. When you wouldn’t take his money he gave you a job. Being a bartender at Lux, you hadn’t expected much but you were grateful for the job. One night you’d managed to make over a thousand dollars. Though you suspected that his friend Maze and her very drunk blond friends had just shoved as much cash they had on them in your tip jar.

When you arrived later than usual for your shift, Lucifer was sat at the bar. Maze was serving drinks and she slid one over to him before leaving the bar to join Lynda. He spotted you as he watched her walk away and raised his eyebrows. “Well we do like to cut it short don’t we! You’re lucky I enjoy encouraging irresponsibility or someone would be in trouble.”

“Sorry I’m late Lucifer.” You muttered as you hurried behind the bar.

“I can forgive a first time offence for my favourite bartender.” He joked as he sipped his drink. “So what made you play hookie for the first time? A nice young man… a nice young woman… both?”

“I was robbed last night while I was at work. I had to fill out an insurance form.” You admitted.

“I’m sorry. You were robbed?” Lucifer asked and tilted his head as you nodded. “Well why didn’t you ring me. I could have had the detective down there right away. We’ve gotten quite good at solving crimes.”

“I was with Detective Espinoza. He stayed for a while and left me while I filled out the form. He’s looking at all the cameras in the area.” You explained.

“Well that’s simply not enough! Don’t worry. I’ve got this handled. We’ll find this bastard before the night is up.” Lucifer promised, leaving you as he hurried away.

“Oh no please… don’t…” You tried to object. With a sigh you shook your head, watching him walk away. Taking a moment to settle into the rhythm of the bar you started taking orders and making the drinks.

********************

“Mazikeen have you found them yet?” Lucifer as he paced his room. He had been about to meet the detective and help her solve your case but he’d set Maze on the case as well and was hoping she had something useful for him.

“A few dead ends. I think I found a pawn shop that might have some of (Y/N)’s things but I won't be able to check it until later.”

“Well… alright then. Well done Maze, you’re doing a better job than I am.” Lucifer admitted in defeat.

“Well I need to find the owner. Apparently he’s been on the run since last night. As soon as I have anything I’ll let you know.” Maze answered and Lucifer could hear the distinct sound of muffled shouts and thumping as she revved her engine and hung up.

When he arrived at the station later you were talking with Chloe Decker. Looking over papers and pictures. Lucifer cleared his throat and smiled. Maze had phoned back as he pulled into the parking lot and gave him a name.

“Don’t worry, detective. I’ve solved our crime. No need to panic.” He said sarcastically when neither of you looked over at him.

“You know who did it?” You asked dubiously.

“As a matter of fact I do.” He passed a note with a name on to Chloe who compared it to her notes and some of the papers on the table in front of her.

“It fits. If it’s not the guy, at least it’s a lead. I’ll go talk to them.”

“Ah, no need to be a detective. Maze will be bringing the thief in. He owes (Y/N) an apology.”

“Lucifer! You can’t… go around having Maze kidnap suspects.”

“Not suspects. Perpetrators.” Lucifer scoffed and shook his head at Chloe.

“Lucifer, why don’t you take (Y/N) to her hotel room. After Maze drops off the suspect I’m sure Maze wouldn’t mind helping the two of you secure (Y/N)’s apartment. Dan and I are happy to help after work and Lynda said she might drop by.” Chloe said with a sigh as she glanced between you and Lucifer. He hesitated and agreed reluctantly but added, with a firm look in your direction.

“I would think you’d feel much safer in my spare room. You know you’re more than welcome to stay (Y/N).” He said with a smile and a look that made a nervous shiver run down your spine.

“Thanks? Lucifer.” You answered as he placed a hand on the middle of your back and led you over to the stairs. With a nervous glance over your shoulder Chloe shot you an apologetic grimace as she gestured to all the work she needed to do. Giving her a nod you turned back, hoping Lucifer wouldn’t become insistent that you live with him.

[10kiaoi]

A special to kick off Villain Day. ;D

And for the 007 Fest Anon prompt:  Hannibal 00q AU

Notes: Unbetaed as always. Canon typical violence. It’s a Hannibal AU- mentions of murder and stuff, no blood. Art of a tableau under cut. 

His guest is running late, table placement set yet seat left empty. It’s an unforgivable rudeness to be left wondering if he’s been stood up after all, he’s rather miffed about it in all honesty. 

There are no messages or missed calls left on his cell. 

Accepting the offer of a wine list, he picks one that won’t demolish his palate entirely before the meal even begins. He’s determined to make the best of the outing- it hasn’t been easy getting a reservation at this particular establishment.  

He considers the likelihood of his guest meeting an unfortunate fate- the tube breaking down, an accident on the road, perhaps a regrettable mugging. Even a last minute call to duty by Scotland Yard.    

Distress is an unusual affliction; he finds himself loathing the depth of it.  

The yelling starts out small, an indignant exclamation that quickly morphs into uncontrolled outrage.

He wonders how such a beast has been allowed to step foot into the restaurant at all.

Such rowdiness isn’t his purview and given the establishment, staff will no doubt be along soon enough to see to it. No reason to ruin a perfectly good night with such uncouth displays despite an overwhelming desire to put the table knife to good use.  

A quick glance at the reflection in a fortuitously placed wine glass stretches his patience to its ends. It’s endurance of the highest magnitude that prevents him from acting rashly.  

The maître d' goes waltzing past his table briskly and he takes a moment to spare the courteous and hardworking man a sympathetic glance.  

----

“They found a tableau.”

The young man slides smoothly onto the bench next to him. He pauses, his graphite study momentarily losing all draw. The pencil is all too heavy in his hand though its point is pathetically dulled by use. 

As far as he can tell, Q has come completely unarmed. 

He obediently passes both sketchbook and graphite pencil over when Q motions for them. 

“It was quite the dreadful scene down at the docks. You can’t imagine the chaos when the Mister and Missus of the vessel turned up after getting the call,” Q states glibly. 

Amusingly, Q starts correcting his study. A shade darker here, a warped line there. Slowly, the warship starts looking less like a jumble of scribbles and more like a black and white photograph. 

The stern comes into sharp focus, then the masts and hull. Finally, Q etches out the bow, paying loving attention to the bowsprit.

His eyes follow the pencil strokes, enthralled by the graceful movements.

“They were utterly infuriated- poor Missus fainted right on the spot. I dare say the vessel won’t be in their hands much longer, not with a Double Oh having graced its decks,” Q continues.   

He tilts his head in askance. 

Q remains silent for a moment, gaze distant.

He wonders what Q is reliving that very moment when it’s clear his mind is no longer here, in the museum where his physical self sits. 

Finally, Q whispers with no small amount of trepidation, “I think it was Seven making a statement.” 

----

“A figurehead?” he queries later in the privacy of his office, reaching for a bottle of Merlot.  

Q nods. “Why,” Q gripes, “why a trust fund baby with his hands in several of the biggest rental agencies with exorbitant rental rates at that -” He cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, sprawling messily over the sofa. 

He pours two glasses, offers one to Q who accepts it gratefully. 

“It’s just, he was a toff and a powerful one too, offshore accounts would do that- hardly worth the effort and risk of capture,” Q mumbles, biting his lip, “it’s not pathological to Seven- what has he got to gain?”

“Besides satisfaction from the act of killing?”

The look Q shoots him is particularly venomous. He hides his smile behind his glass.  

Back in his own sofa seat, he drinks in the view before him. Of an aggravated young man, wonderfully brilliant and oh so enticing. Marvels at Q’s state of mind- how desperate he is to understand, to see, to empathise.  

All it takes is a little nudge and he’s perfectly posed to help Q come unto a higher comprehension.

He sets his glass on a side table, leaning forward on his sofa. It earns him Q’s full focus, hazel eyes eyeing his motion attentively as if he has answers to all of Q’s questions. 

It’s more than a little intoxicating to be the one person Q looks to in his time of need. 

“The people of the past used to dedicate many hours to carve figureheads out of solid wood,” he offers, “They believed the figureheads were powerful symbols of protection that would guide their vessels through treacherous seas.”   

“Seven believed… The benefits outweigh the risks?” Q ventures uncertainly, brows furrowing in deep thought. “The tableau was left there for us to find...” 

“A message,” he interprets, blood rushing with anticipation, “think Q, use that big brain of yours. What is the tableau saying?”

“It was meant to be found, to be seen, be celebrated.” Q lunges up from his seat, pacing anxiously between the window and the sofas. “He’s absolutely elated, he’s found something, no, someone- a safe harbour.” 

His eyes follow Q’s frantic pacing around the room. Close, so close- 

“Chester’s slaughter was just the cherry on top- well deserved for his injustice against society by not paying his dues. It’s justice wrapped up in a nice little package, like a message in a bottle-” Q grinds to a halt in the middle of the room.  

“Oh, oh, ” Q flushes, eyes impossibly wide, “It’s a declaration of courtship.”  

He eyes the way Q’s tongue pops out to wet his lips, throat working through several false starts. He savours the flash of realisation in those lovely irises, even as he sits primed to react. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, if not the delivery,” Q breathes wryly.

----

Q slides into the unoccupied seat at the table with an aggravated sigh, having finally escaped the poorly behaved fellow diner. 

The plain little business card he hands over slips into the depths of Bond’s suit jacket, with the other diners none the wiser.    

“He thought I was a waiter and took offence at my refusal to serve him.,” Q grumbles when he looks at him in askance, “I could feel your distaste a mile away.”  

He smiles, absurdly pleased by his partner’s consideration.

[iwillbeinmynest]

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f)    Chapter 5

Authors Notes: So the notes on this series are starting to drop, which I suppose is normal for a series but if there is something you don't like about this, please consider letting me know. My anon is on so if you don't want me to know its you, you have that option. I’m not gonna bite and I won't be offended. I need the feedback so I can understand what I should try to write next time. TIA.

AU: Farmhand!Bucky x SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: 1.1 k

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

Bucky got his keys and unlocked his truck. Thank goodness he bought a crew cab, all the girls couldn’t have fit in a standard.

They headed for the school and Bucky let the music play to fill the silence. He took Y/N’s directions and soon they were sitting in the carpool line.

“So, two girls?” Bucky tried to break the silence.

Y/N huffed out a smile and nodded. “Yeah, double trouble.”

“How old are they again? I keep forgetting.” That was a lie.

“Lex is five and Grace is nine and a half.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, they’re not all bad, I guess.” She teased.

There was a brief pause before Bucky got the nerve to ask his question.

“Is it hard?”

“What, girls?”

“No, raising them by yourself.”

“Oh,” Y/N turned away for a second before taking a breath and answering, “Yeah, but they really are good girls. Lex asks about him sometimes but… i don’t know. It’s hard but it isn’t, you know?”

No, he didn’t, but Bucky nodded anyways. “Well, you’re doing a great job.”

She smiled at him, “Thank you.”

The school bell rang loud and within seconds, tons of elementary school kids were pouring out the front doors.

Y/N stepped out of Bucky’s Chevy and waived when Grace came out holding Lex’s hand. Grace looked a little confused but waved back nonetheless.

Lex waved big and then let go of Grace’s hand and started running towards Y/N.

“Bucky!” Lex shouted as she passed Y/N and opened the back door to Bucky’s truck.

“Well, hi.” Y/N said in mock offence.

“Wow, you have such a nice truck!” Lex said loudy. She flung her book bag to the floorboard and started to click into her seat. “Mom, we need a truck like this!”

“That’s rude, Lex. “Grace huffed as she climbed in. “Hi, Mr. Bucky.”

“Hey, Grace.” He smiled.

“It’s not rude I was saying something nice.”

“It’s rude to mom.” Grace corrected.

“Enough girls. Hi, hello, how was your day?” Y/N shut her door and shook her head.

“Fine,” They said in unison.

Y/N sighed and hung her head dramatically before turning to look at the backseat. “Y’all are in school for six hours and all you can manage is one word?”

“I learned how to spell ‘alphabet’, today.” Lex said proudly.

“Oh really?” Bucky raised his brows, impressed. “Spell it.”

“A, L, F- wait….” Lex giggled. “I forgot.”

Bucky chuckled silently.

“What did you do today, Gracie?” Y/N looked over her shoulder at her briefly.

“Um,” She looked out the window. “We got to write letters to people in history. That was kinda fun.”

“Who did you write to?” Y/N asked.

“Sybil Ludington.”

Y/n and Bucky looked at each other bewildered.

“Who?” Bucky asked.

Grace perked up. “Sybil Ludington. She rode the same night as Paul Revere -the night he warned the people that the British were coming- and she rode twice as far as Paul did but no one remembers her. And she was only sixteen. She rode all night and warned 400 soldiers all the way from New York to Connecticut. I’m writing a paper about her.”

“Well, I know what I learned today.” Bucky smiled.

“And her horse’s name was Star.” Grace was smiling, too.

“Hey!” Lex chimed in. “That’s your horse’s name!”

“Mhm.” Nodded Grace.

“Well, that’s great, baby.” Y/N said as she turned back to face forward in her seat. “Speaking of horses, Mr. Sam is coming over today for your barrel lessons. He can’t make it tomorrow so he’s coming early this week.”

“Yes!” Grace squirmed in her seat.

“You run barrels?” Bucky asked without needing an answer. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite.” She grinned, still looking out the window.

Bucky nodded and smiled at Y/N. She really was one heck of a mom, raising her girls.

Back at the house, Y/N and Lex watched from the fence of the back field. It wasn’t set up for barrel racing in the sense that the grass was coming up in the makeshift arena and Sam had her riding around barrels at a trot first, but you could see how happy it made Grace.

Bucky had spent a good hour on it, but he finally got Y/N’s truck running. He was going to let her know but when he saw how big she was smiling watching Grace, he figured it could wait.

He hopped back into the bobcat and got back to work spreading out the gravel. He got about halfway down the drive when the sun finally set. He worked another half hour under the orange sky before turning back up to go to the house. When he got closer, he found Y/N was back on the driveway with the tamper, hitting the gravel hard and pressing it into place.

Sweat had coated her forehead but she paid it no mind. As she lifted the tamper, Bucky could see the muscles in her arm flex. She didn’t look strong but she clearly was. Working the tamper wasn’t a fun job but she didn’t seem to let the labor bother her.

“What are you doing back out here?” Bucky said as he drove the bobcat up to her.

She looked up and wiped the sweat from her face. She shrugged, “Just figured if you were still working, I should be. I’ll get better this way anyhow.”

“Or I could ride the cat over it and cut your workload down.” He winked.

Y/N sighed and looked back at the half dozen square yards she’d already done. “You just thought to make that suggestion after I’ve done all this?” She looked like she might be hiding a smile.

“Well, I didn’t think you were gonna come and help anymore tonight.” He chuckled.

She laughed at herself and tossed the tamper to the ground. “Serves me right for thinking I was helpin’.”

“I already drove over the gravel I laid, why don’t you jump on and I’ll finish the rest of all your hard work and we can both be done for the day?” Bucky smirked at her.

She shook her head as his teasing, “I’ll just walk thanks.” She turned but then backtracked, “Hey, you wanna come inside for dinner? It’s almost eight and I figure since you’re here…”

“Are you sure?  What about the girls, they don’t mind me joining?”

“You kidding, Lex loves you. Besides, they already ate and should be getting ready for bed already. Really, it’s no trouble.”

“Well, then sure, dinner sounds nice.”

Y/N patted the window of the bobcat, “Great, see you up there then.”

“It’s a date.”

Y/N chuckled as she walked away.

Bucky wanted to shoot himself. A date? Really? He knew he had it bad for her but now it was actually coming out of his mouth.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

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