#ok I haven’t drawn anyone apart for

[alyona11]

City Watch bring your kid to work day

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Many Tiny Idiots, Some Irreverent Hotness & an Engagement

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 4 of 16 - OK so Hill has really been trying to pick him up from the beginning? I don’t understand why there’s any doubt around girls at all. He Gay everyone. Why is Tatch (2 Moons Ambassador) the only seme in Thai BL history allowed to actually just say "I don’t date women.”

Why is that so hard?

This show is definitely frustrating me, but I must admit that it’s the one I look forward to the most each week.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 6 of 15 - I am now only watching the uncut version, and I gotta say it makes all the difference. Please don’t watch the cut version of this show if you can possibly help it. It’s like cliff's notes of cliff's notes. I love the tiny side couple of tough kid + the dork of the music club. Ah the beach sequence. Condenced WAY DOWN, I see. We lost one of the most iconic lines in all BL but i think everything is improved by how much tighter the plot is in the remake (6 episodes became 1!). So I’m enjoying it. Weirdly, I'm not sure I would be enjoying it, if I hadn’t seen the original.

Is anyone watching this on iQIYI who hasn't seen the original? Just out of curiosity. Tell me how it's going for you, would ya? 

I'm doing a face-off style watch along of this new version versus the original 2014-2015 version.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 8 of 12 - I don’t entirely get it. They were apart for approximately 11 minutes. I would’ve thought GMMTV would’ve drawn it out for longer and more angst. Smiley face kiss was cute, but the star of this ep was that gorgeous pale blue waffle sweater on Q. What a great color for Leng! 

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 7 of 12 - I do like that we’re seeing an honest exploration of poverty and hopelessness. I’m not sure how I feel about it inside my BL, tho I’m willing to persavere for this pair.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 12 end - Someone said recently "just imagine what TutorYim could do with an actual script." And you know what? I agree. Because they sure as shit haven’t gotten one yet. And it’s getting quite frustrating. I’m having JaFirst flashbacks. Frankly, 2024 has been a year of unmitigated BL nonsense narratives. And I’m tired of it. I know it’s bog standard for the genre, but it feels like there’s been more than normal faff this year.

Summary 

An incredibly convoluted, disjointed, and badly-paced drama that is about(?) some writers writing a thing and some boys who knew each other when they were kids, lots of pretty sexy times, and not much else. The visuals are gorgeous, the side couples are overly appealing (with little to no screen time), the dubbing and sound is absurdly bad, and the fantasy novel (play within a play) makes no sense whatsoever while also managing to be the show that we all actually wanted to see instead of what we were given. 6/10 

In conclusion, I have no interest in attempting to understand or revisit this show, and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it, but if you have nothing better to do…… the sex is good (frankly I have exes that satisfy all the same criteria). So there it is: this show is like a bad but still hot ex.  

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - Nice to see Fiat in something again. Namping is very angel baby.  This episode made me think that this pair would do a great Thai remake of Love Tractor, and now that’s pretty much all I want in life. I enjoyed wardrobe in this episode. It looks like we get the same characters next week. Cool. 

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - I guess everyone is messy slutty bisexual in this show? Do I care? Not even slightly. BLabies, I don’t think I’m gonna make it. I might have to drop this one.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 1-2 of 13 - I adore it, what a wonderful meet cute. I love a Taiwanese BL that starts with a gratuitous kidnapping, some chasing, and a bit of a fight sequence. We in OLD fashioned territory. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 5 of ? - I continue to enjoy it very much.

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 4 of 7 - Oh! Is the sleazy boss gonna turn out to be actually a sleazy player? That would be an interesting twist.

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 3 of 8 - I’m really not a big fan of my pain coming from Korea. I’m getting a whiff of To My Star 2 from this one. And that does not make me happy. I know: high quality high angst yada yada blah blah blah. But also unnecessary pain? No thank you. 

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 12 end - Of course, I love the part where Reese and Orca spoke each other’s languages.

Conclusion

Had this been produced a mere 3 or 4 years ago, I would’ve been quite enamored. But by comparison to what we’ve been getting, this is a lackluster offering. A has-been musician and a much younger composer meet, fall in love, and attempt to rectify his stalled musical career. Cute side couple of a Thai popstar + his Korean manager. Everyone is very fine and it was a fine show. I wasn’t disappointed, but I wasn’t impressed either. 8/10 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 6 of 10 eps - It was a fun little confession and climax, there was crying, and a bridge kiss (been a while) all of this appeals to me even if they are tiny idiots (in the immortal words of @heretherebedork )

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 5-6 of 12 - More tiny idiot boyfriends who don’t realize they’re boyfriends. That’s it, that’s all that’s happening. Ostensibly there’s some kind of murder. But it seems to be acting more like set dressing than plot.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - Supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

In case you missed it

Mew & Tul legit engaged.

Love in the Big City (Korea Viki) 8ep - Vicki dropped them all at once which means I did what I do under such circumstances and skipped to watch the final episode. (I am well aware that this makes me a monster. ) Anygay, that told me that I’m not gonna be bothering to watch the series. Now y'all can tell me how amazing it is and what I’ve missed and blah blah blah. But I’m comfortable with my choice. It’s ICRY 2.0 + HIV. And I’m not willing to play its literatti game. At some point I might watch it on fast-forward for the sex scenes, but I’m not at that point yet. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming:

10/27 Perfect 10 Liners (Thai Sun YouTube?) 24 eps! - New directing yet another university BL with engineers + their mentees. Based on a Jittirain novel. with a massive cast and massive run time. We will be watching this until APRIL of 2025!

ForceBook playing the same old characters = enemies to lovers tsunder/sunshine jock/nerd thing.

PerthChimonSanta are doing the cohabitation cool guy/dork trope.

JuniorMark are doing popular sunshine meets lonely sad boy (the only interesting pair IMHO).

I think Blue Canvas of Youthful Days has started on iQIYI but I only get it on Viki and that doesn't drop for a few days, plus...... CBL......? Not sure I'll report on this one unless it's really good.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

From Uncle Unknown which is truly terrible but this was so SO funny. I'm still chuckling when I think about it.

The first representation of shipping in a BL that I actually enjoyed. Also Dat's clear approval of being shipped didn't hurt. (Judge)

(lask week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[wow635]

Ok chapter 3 guys! The story is also now on wattpad under : wow635

After many long hours of us talking, me, hermione and Ginny are all wrapped up in blankets surrounded by pillows as we laugh and talk amongst each other.

We hear a soft knock at the door, then ms Weasley’s head pops in. She opens the door fully, now in her dressing gown holding a candle « Ok girls it's time to sleep, you've got a big day tomorrow » she warns us

Ginny, Hermione, and I groaned in unison, each of us expressing our disappointment at Mrs. Weasley's interruption. We were having such fun catching up and sharing stories, appreciating the opportunity to reconnect after a long summer apart. However, it was clear that Mrs. Weasley had other ideas.

"But we're not finished talking yet," Ginny protested, her expression laced with a hint of petulance.

Mrs. Weasley simply chuckled affectionately, shaking her head at Ginny's protest. She gently chastised us, "I know, dear, but you need your rest for tomorrow. A well-rested witch is a happy witch."

I laugh « alright, good night ms Weasley » I say pulling Ginny's covers over myself

Mrs. Weasley smiled at us, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Good night, dears. Sweet dreams." With that, she left the room, gently closing the door behind her. Ginny, Hermione, and I settled into the bed, still giggling and whispering as we shared more stories and secrets until sleep slowly overtook.

————————

A little while later Ginny and Hermione are fast asleep. I haven’t told anyone but I’ve been unable to sleep for quite a while now. It’s rather embarrassing because it’s nightmares that keeps me up, about Voldemort, my parents, everything and everyone I can’t afford to lose

I slip out of bed and walk down the creaking stairs, the old wooden floorboards of the Burrow gently groaning beneath my feet. The sounds of the house are quiet and peaceful, broken only by the occasional muffled snore coming from one of the rooms.

As I entered the kitchen, it was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. The room felt cosy and welcoming, the warm light casting shadows on the walls. I reached for a glass and filled it with water from the tap, drinking it down.

After I refill it I stand by the sink, sipping my water, my attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching from the direction of the stairs. I look up and my heart skips a beat as I see Fred making his way down the stairs dressed in his plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

He looks a bit sleepy, but his eyes are still filled with a mischievous sparkle.

I raise an eyebrow and he speaks, "Can't sleep either? Or are you just here to raid the fridge?"

“Cant sleep” I smile from behind my glass

“What about you?”

"just couldn't resist the allure of the kitchen in the middle of the night" he replies with a chuckle. He walked over to me, leaning against the counter across from me. The moon illuminated his features, casting a soft glow across his face.

"What actually brings you down here?" He says giving me a quizzical look

“Nightmare” I say taking a sip from my glass. I don’t know why I just told him. Merlin I’m stupid

As I admitted to having a nightmare, Fred's expression softened with understanding. He nodded slightly, leaning in a bit closer.

"Nightmares can be quite unpleasant," he said softly which surprises me because he isn’t normally serious . "They have a way of messing with your mind."

He then reaches out a comforting hand, gently placing it on mine. His touch warm.

I blush and take another sip of my water.

Fred's warm presence in front of me makes my heart flutter. I glance at him, feeling my cheeks flush. He stands there, his pajama-clad figure leaning casually against the counter, his shoulders broad and his arms now folded across his chest.

The kitchen is quiet for a moment, the only sound the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall.

I take a shaky breath, trying to will the butterflies in my stomach to settle down. Fred seemed to sense my nerves, and he glances over at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You know, l've got a secret weapon for dealing with those pesky nightmares," he says, his voice low and hushed. "It's a little something we Weasleys have perfected over the years. Care to know what it is?" He leans closer, his expression conspiratorial.

“What is it?” I ask curiously

His smile widens as he prepares to reveal his nightmare kicking secret. He leans in closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a special kind of hot chocolate, made with a secret Weasley recipe. It's guaranteed to chase away those nasty dreams and send you off to dreamland with the best kind of thoughts."

I chuckle at his playfulness « hot chocolate huh? » I smile

"Yes, hot chocolate. It's a family secret. We can't have you tossing and turning all night, now can we?" he teases, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "So, what do you say? Fancy a cup of dream-banishing hot chocolate?"

I nod rolling my eyes and chuckling

"Brilliant!" Fred said excitedly, a wide grin spreading across his face.

He bounds over to the cupboards and rummages through them, pulling out a bunch of stuff. "I'll have you feeling better in no time." He grabs two mugs and two spoons, and placed them on the counter. He then looks at me, a glint in his eyes.

I smile and hop onto the counter next to where he was working

Fred smiles as he begins preparing the hot chocolate. He quickly boils a kettle of water, pours it into each mug, then adds generous dollops of his hot chocolate mix into both, mixing them with the spoons until the chocolate dissolves completely and fills the air with a rich, chocolatey scent.

He hands me a mug, then grabs his own and leans against the counter next to me.

I take a sip “it's really good” I say my eyes widening

Fred beams with pride. "Told you so," he replies, a satisfied grin on his face. "We Weasleys take our hot cocoa very seriously, you know." He raised his mug to me, a silent gesture of triumph.

I replicate his gesture giggling quietly

We clink our mugs together, a soft, silvery sound that fills the quiet kitchen. The hot chocolate is delicious, velvety smooth and rich with chocolate. It warms me from the inside out, making me feel instantly comforted and calm. I take another sip, savoring the taste.

——————————

“Thank you Fred” I say and with great courage I stand on my tip toes to kiss his cheek

Fred's cheeks flush slightly as I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed but also secretly pleased .

"You're most welcome," he said with a small chuckle. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm glad the hot cocoa helped. And, you know, if your nightmares ever return, l've got plenty more tricks up my sleeve to help chase them away."

“Im sure you do” I smile “night” I say removing my hand from the spot on his arm where it had been when I kissed him on the cheek then turning to walk up the stares

Fred watch’s me as I make my way back upstairs, a small smile playing on his lips.

The feeling of my lips on his cheek still lingered, a tingle that he couldn't quite ignore. He stands there for a moment, replaying the moment over in his mind, his heart beating just a bit faster than usual.

As I disappeared up the staircase, he returns to the kitchen, a newfound energy in his step.

I head into Ginny’s room sliding into bed

And close my eyes no longer thinking about my nightmare. But of Fred Weasley.

I slip into the room where Ginny and Hermione are still fast asleep. I slide into bed, nestling under the covers and trying to slow my racing heart. Despite my efforts, thoughts of Fred float through my mind. I could still feel the warmth of his presence and the lingering tingle on my lips where l had kissed his cheek. As I close my eyes I no longer think about my nightmare. But of Fred Weasley.

Next chapter ————->

[callmewrinkles3]

Charlie

December 2022

Em really didn’t want to be out. She was constantly tired and still felt stressed, but Blake insisted. Her cast was off and she’d finished physical therapy so “cmon Timmy, the two of you are coming out for dinner and drinks.”

So she did what he told her and got dressed, the three of them sitting at a table and chatting. It was good food and relaxing and she actually enjoyed herself. Dan spotted where Blake’s attention was being drawn, a woman standing at the bar turning down a guy. She’d glanced over at Blake a few times but kept looking away.

“Have a crush, Blake?” He asked and their friend shook his head and pushed his glasses up.

“She’s cute. But you know me.” Em looked at him and stood while pointing at their glasses.

“Same again?”

“Yeah, please.”

Going up for drinks was just the first excuse that Em could find to go up to the bar and stand beside the pretty brunette Blake kept making eyes at. She’d deal with him being annoyed at her later, her friend deserved some happiness for once. As much as he tried to hide it she could hear the sadness when he said “you know me”. He’d put his personal life on the back burner for them.

It wasn’t that Blake didn’t want to meet anyone and settle down and be happy, but he didn’t have time. And it was entirely because of her and Dan. The thin walls between her old apartment and his worked both ways and she knew he’d stopped bringing anyone home over lockdown and never did again. Between how 2021 started, the mess of that year and how it ended, and the hell that had been 2022 he didn’t stand a chance. Instead he kept an eye on them, half brother, half parent, all Blake.

Officially his job was to be Dan’s manager but after everything he became a professional third wheel to make sure they were ok. He’d spent the last year keeping his barely functioning best friends going and ignored his own happiness. So for once Em - helped by the g&ts she’d drank already - was ignoring how shy she could be and telling the girl that Blake was interested if she was too. Em couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Blake’s eyes light up at seeing someone. It’d be worth his annoyance to make him happy. He’d put her happiness first, it was her turn to do that for him.

“Can I get a gin and tonic, a Jack and Coke, and another pint please? And whatever her next drink is too? Thanks so much.” Em pointed to the girl beside her as she ordered once she’d stepped into a free spot before turning and holding her hand out. “Hey, I’m Em.”

She saw the surprise on the woman’s face the second Em introduced herself. If someone ever did that to Em in a bar one night she’d probably run away, and definitely run back to Dan, but the woman didn’t. She had skinny jeans and converse on with a tank top and a flannel shirt over it. The woman stood there with her nearly empty glass for a second before speaking.”

“Hi. I’m Charlotte. Can I help you?”

“This sounds insane, but yeah, you can. I mean not exactly me but my friend. See the cute one over there with glasses? His name is Blake. He thinks you’re cute.” Charlotte glanced over and back carefully, but Em saw the “oh fuck” expression on Blake’s face.

“He does?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about his face, he’s mad at me for telling you because he wasn’t going to say anything. But I promise, he’s a sunshine. The sweetest man in the universe after my husband. So I figured if you think he’s cute you can come sit with us and say hi. And if you don’t that’s fine, enjoy the drink. We won’t bother you.”

“You actually want me to say hi to someone at Daniel Ricciardo’s table? Really?”

“Sometimes I forget my h-boyfriend is a celebrity. But seriously, don’t think of him like that. Dan’s a regular guy, and Blake’s even more normal. So if you feel like it come say hi?” The drinks were out down beside her and Em tapped her card on the machine to pay. “I haven’t touched your drink, it’s all yours. It was really nice to talk to you, Charlotte.”

Em walked away from the bar barely balancing the three glasses in her hands, dropping them down on the table in front of her two favourite men barely spilling a drop. Her favourite part about getting back was how their jaws dropped slightly. She was never the one who did those things. She was the introvert, the one who hated talking to people. Especially talking to strangers. But three gin and tonics and a margarita meant she wasn’t thinking about how uncomfortable it was to talk to people. All she was thinking about was Blake being happy, even if it was just for one night.

“What did you just do?” Blake asked, staring at her as if she was an alien and not one of his best friends and his adopted sister.

“You mean to say “thank you”, right Blakey?”

“Where’s my sweet baby girl and what have you done with her?” Dan joked, trying to keep it together and not burst out laughing at what his wife had done.

“What did you tell her?” Blake sounded frantic so Em took pity on him.

“That my very sweet, handsome bestie thinks she’s cute. And then I paid for her drink and told her to come say hi if she thinks you’re cute too. She’d just said no to that other guy and I saw her checking you out, so I think she’ll come over. You’re welcome in advance.” Em took a sip of her drink. “When you get married I get dibs on maid of honour duties and to be godmother for your first child.” She shrugged and scooted closer into Dan. It was the least her thing she had ever done, but she owed it to Blake.

“You’re never gonna drink again. Ever.” She wanted to laugh as she watched Blake blush even harder, but she didn’t want to make things worse. Instead she smiled and snuggled into Dan as he wrapped an arm around her. “Seriously. I’m never letting you drink again.

“And you’ve never seen her when she starts drinking rose. That’s when she really says the weird stuff.”

“Dan!”

“You know it’s true!”

“Weirdos,” Blake murmured under his breath and Em could see how he was beginning to regret not only coming up with the idea to go out that night, but for Em to start drinking again after a few months off alcohol.

“I might be a weirdo, but I’ll have you know Charlotte’s looking over here.” She could see how Charlotte was trying to act normal while looking at their table and checking out their friend. It was a small smile half hidden behind a glass that she was trying to finish for some extra courage. It was the table where hometown hero Daniel Ricciardo was sitting with his girl and his best friend.

“She told you her name and you weren’t even going to tell me? Seriously, Timmy?”

“Oops?”

“Sometimes you’re so annoy-shit she’s coming over.”

If Blake’s cheeks were read before, his entire face may as well have been an apple. Em couldn’t remember seeing him so nervous I’m all the years she’d known him. He was always the composed one, especially at work, so seeing him blushing like a school kid with his first crush was the most adorable thing in the world.

“Hey, Charlotte, you joined us!” Em welcomed her happily, gesturing to the free seat beside Blake when she saw her standing next to their table.

“Is that alright?”

“I invited you over for a reason, right?” She smiled and gave a wink to make the other woman feel welcome and able to relax, even if for a moment. “Introductions, this is my h-boyfriend, Dan. Ignore if he tries to impress you and be fancy.”

“Nice to meet you, don’t believe a word Em says about me.” Dan held his hand out to shake like the polite man he was.

“And this is my best friend, Blake Friend. Yes it’s his actual name, and yes I tell him regularly it’s ridiculous. Blakey, this is Charlotte.”

“Hi. Call me Charlie, Charlotte is for strangers or when my parents want to ask something. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hey Charlie, it’s nice to meet you too.” Blake smiled and offered his hand for her to grab like Dan had, but it was nothing like when Dan introduced himself to Charlie. Em could nearly see the sparks. This was the night she’d met Dan for her best friend and this new girl, she knew it.

“I need some air. Come out with me, Love?” She whispered to Dan and grabbed his hand to give the other two some privacy.

“What’s that for?” He asked when they got to a dark corner across the bar.

“Give them some privacy.” She leaned against Dan and gave him a kiss, hoping that it was going as well as it looked for the two.

[glazesunflower]

“You’re lucky you’re cute”

Character: Ruby Rose x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Can be read as platonic too. No warnings, just fluff.

Notes: The request, “ "You're lucky you're cute" with Ruby if that's ok”.

The front door of your house opens with a quiet creek. As you set foot inside, you’re greeted by a sweet smell in the air, tickling your nose. You breath in deeply, letting the sugary scent fill your lungs and ease the tiredness of the day as you close the door behind you and make it through the corridor.

Why does it smell sweet?

You don’t remember making anything sweet for lunch earlier, and you haven’t bought any cakes from the convenience store. And today isn’t anyone’s birthday, so why the sweet smell?

Oh.

You enter the kitchen and suddenly everything makes sense. And everything is a mess, really. There’s flour all over the counter, a couple of cracked shell eggs, the oven is still open and there’s an obscene amount of chocolate chips lying around, too. You sigh, knowing full well it’s your job to clean this up later.

“Ruby, I’m home.” You call out as you make your way to the living room.

You find her cross-legged sitting on the couch, she’s biting her bottom lip, fidgeting with the controller in her hands as she fights what you assume to be a big boss in one of her favorite video games on the TV.

As soon as she hears your voice though, she sends the controller flying and you don’t have time to blink before she’s pouncing on you.

“You’re back!” She wraps her arms around your waist, nuzzling her forehead on your chest, cheerful. “I made something for you! The first batch came out a little weird-shaped so I did you the favor of eating them all and I made another batch for you. You’re welcome.”

“Is that so?” Ruby’s lips bloom into a smile when you pull apart, your hand resting on her head and gently caressing her dark hair. She leans to your touch. “The kitchen is a mess though. I trust you’ll help me clean it up, right?”

“Yes… We’ll do that later.” Ruby reluctantly says, her silver eyes quickly shifting from you to the cookies that rest all nicely-put on the living room table. She picks one up and reaches out to you, a happy smile drawn on her lips. “Come on, try them!”

You take the cookie from her hand and take a bite. Your eyes widen at the sweet taste.

“It’s really good, Ruby.” You say, and her silver eyes gleam with pride. “What are we celebrating?”

“Ah, nothing in particular. You just seemed a bit tired lately and I wanted to cheer you up.” Ruby says, picking up another cookie and eating it herself. “Did it do the trick?”

“Yes. Yes, it did.” You say, palming her face delicately, her silver eyes following your movements. You brush her cheek with your thumb, your heart filled with warmth. “Thank you, Ruby. That means so much.”

“Hee-hee, I’m glad!” Ruby smiles, leaning into your palm. “Does that mean I don’t have to clean the kitchen, though? Since I’ve been so nice and all.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You press a kiss to her hair, the dark locks tickling your nose. Ruby looks up at you, her silver eyes big and sparkling. “But the answer is no. Now, come over here and help me clean up before we get all snuggly on the couch!”

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking or reblogging it <3!

You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!

[alexiethymia]

shinran and kaiao

parallels, or perhaps contrasts 

Shinichi has to act younger than he is as Conan. Kaito has to act older than he is as Kaitou Kid,

so it makes a lot of sense why Ran and Aoko appeal to them immensely on top of the numerous other reasons these boys are in love with their childhood friends. 

For all that Gosho has made the two couples look alike (since Shinichi and Ran are in a way an iteration of Kaito and Aoko from his earlier work on Magic Kaito), he keeps things different enough that you can enjoy both ships uniquely.

Ran is often thought to be mature for her age. She fits the gentle and mothering archetype quite well. Even characters older than her, namely Ai, has seen a resemblance of their older sister figures in her. I definitely agree with some fics that Shinichi’s primary attachment is Ran. At four years old he was already drawn to her so quickly. 

In contrast, Aoko’s childishness is repeatedly emphasized, from her way of talking to other people’s comments about her, namely Akako. Akako makes a point to differentiate the both of them by emphasizing to Kaito how mature and adult-like she is, while wondering why Kaito keeps bothering with someone as immature as Aoko. 

But that’s the thing, I think that’s one of the things about Aoko which comforts Kaito. He has to play at being the dreamy, older gentleman thief half the time, and while there’s no doubt he enjoys it, I’m sure it also gets tiring being the object of affection (and you know, target by some shady men in black) of countless people who only see Kid. Meanwhile, Aoko cares not a whit for Kid but cares so much for Kaito. With Aoko, he can just play around like in the past without the weight of having to keep up a persona. 

In addition, while Kaito and Heiji can appreciate a cute face apart from that of their love interests, Shinichi is...there’s no other word for it, he’s Ran-sexual. Ok, joking aside, I think it’s partly true? I mean in situations where Kaito or Heiji would blush even if it isn’t with their love interests (like with Akako or Momiji respectively), Shinichi...doesn’t? Or hardly does at least. 

I remember the Bird’s Eye View Restaurant case, aka where Shinichi nearly seduced an older woman and Takagi was panicking about how to intervene, he does all that without any fluster or a hint of a blush. Even when he and his classmates were talking about the ‘hot, foreign teacher’ (Jodie-sensei), the anime did make him sound eager, but upon rereading the manga there wasn’t even a blush, and his expression was more like curious. In other words, Ran has had Shinichi wrapped around her tiny little pinky since age four.

I’m sure there have been instances but so far, besides anything related to Ran, the only times I saw him have a blush was on the cover where Sato was wearing her omiai kimono, and some times when other couples have moments (like when Sonoko held Makoto’s hands or with some Heizuha moments). I probably just haven’t seen some of the others, but honestly the two above are pretty cute by themselves. 

Even when Kaito and Aoko act similarly to Heiji and Kazuha, there are some differences there too. Like in Heizuha’s case, Kazuha was the one who knew early on that she was in love with Heiji, while in KaiAo’s case, if the recent relationship chart is to be believed, Kaito ‘loves everything about Aoko’ but Aoko isn’t sure about her feelings for Kaito (which again makes sense considering her innocent persona). 

And again, this is mildly hilarious to me, that Kaitou Kid, practically everyone’s dream boy, beloved by millions...has a pretty crappy love life, and he has no one to blame but himself. Because teasing the girl you like by calling her flat-chested doesn’t exactly scream romance. 

No wonder Aoko can’t see Kaito liking her (that has a lot of angst potential, but let’s keep things lighthearted for now). I guess I fell in love with KaiAo so fast because of the hilarious irony of how Kaito can charm anyone as Kaitou Kid being the smooth talker that he is, but reverts back to the mentality of a grade schooler who always puts his foot in his mouth or a frog stuck in his throat when it concerns his feelings for Aoko, and that’s not even counting the canyon of secrets between them.

tldr: I have a lot of feelings for shinran, kaiao, and heizuha that I needed to get off my chest haha

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[vivakyuh]

stirring the pot (ushi x fem!reader)

by vivak

very unfamiliar with the whole tumblr format, but hopefully you’ll enjoy the fic! ;))

general warnings: not this particular chapter, but it’s smut smut smut!

interested in reading it on ao3? check it out here! i’d appreciate any kudos and comments! <3

chapters: ch. one, ch. two, ch. three, ch. four

chapter one: let’s get this show on the road

When you had first asked Ushijima if he’d overstimulate you; you were, both painfully and embarrassingly, in public. He had given you a shocked face, looked around to see if anyone had overheard and then said, with all the firmness and seriousness he could possibly muster together: “Talk about this at home.”

You’d be lying if you said the car ride home wasn’t awkward, but you were his fiancé, you’ve known him for years, know all of his little quirks and what makes his gears grind; so by no chance do you miss the way his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.

Sex with Ushijima, as good as it felt, was vanilla. Not that you’re saying that’s a bad thing, of course. Wakatoshi saw sex as a means of connection; gentleness, a show of how much love you two had for each other. And you do love Toshi— more than anything, you love him, him and his wants, whether that be vanilla sex or not. But sometimes, you can’t help but think what he’d be able to do with you; those strong arms and broad shoulders and thick thighs built from hours at the gym could do so much to you. His strength, however, is something he kept purely to Volleyball— and to some extent, it bothered you.

So, you tried teasing. Small, at first. Just a pair of ‘fuck me eyes’ during an outing with his team, or, a gentle slap on his ass when he walked by in your shared apartment. You know, small, couple-y things. It wasn’t until about a week ago that you started to bring your A-game; brushing your hand ‘accidentally’ against his crotch and ushering back with a heated, fast response of, ‘sorry! didn’t mean to do that, sweetheart’.

It’s not like you two haven’t discussed pushing your sex life to new limits— every couple does that. Talks about what they can improve, what they need to dial down; what they need to add. And mind you, Wakatoshi is no saint. You don’t miss how sometimes he stares a little too intensely at your ass, licks his lips when you bend over to pick something up or how he clenches his fists together in some sort of way to hold himself back, and that’s just it: you don’t want him to hold back.

Fuck, you want him to let go.

He’s built to be a fucking machine, right? What other use could he possibly make of those thighs?

You say nothing as Wakatoshi wordlessly makes his way to the front door, unlocks it and heads inside. And honestly, this is probably the most scared you’ve ever been in this relationship, if you can even call it scared. Worried, maybe, would be a better use of word. Worried he’ll reject it; say that he’s comfortable exactly with how you sex life is, and that’s perfectly ok— In fact, you almost expect it. But the very last thing you want for the both of you is for things to suddenly be awkward because of your complete horniness getting in the way of things.

Toshi hangs his keys on the hook next to the door, kicks off his shoes and makes his way straight to the kitchen. He doesn’t feel like the one to talk first, that much you can tell, so, you do.

“You think we can talk, Toshi?”

He opens the fridge and grabs a cold water bottle, hums in confirmation, cracks open the cap and takes a long gulp— like he’s bracing himself.

“I did mean what I said at the mall, you know.” you say, slowly slipping off your shoes and throwing your winter jacket on the couch. “I think we should talk about it, don’t cha think?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and it’s drawn out— so unusually unlike him. “I do think we should talk about everything, about our feelings, about our,” he clears his throat, “…our sex life openly, it just surprised me you asked in public, honey.”

“I know,” you sigh, walking over to him in the kitchen. “I’m sorry, just wanted to make sure I got your attention.”

That makes Wakatoshi laugh. “You always have my attention, you know that, right?”

“I better,” you joke, nudging him on the shoulder and snatching the bottle from his hand— just as he was going to take another sip, and chugged down some. “Nobody else should have my man’s attention.”

He raises an eyebrow, a lazy smile on his face. “No one is worthy of it except you, trust me.”

“Uh-huh.” You shove the bottle back into his hand, still open, and start walking into the living room. “I love how open we are with each other. Which is why I want to talk about it more.”

Toshi nods his head, shows that he’s listening.

“So, I wanted to see if you wanted to try something new in the bedroom. You know, maybe shake things up a little bit. Like I said at the mall, we could try overstimulation, I’ve heard it’s nice. Or… maybe, if you’d even like, we could try other things, too.”

He’s leaned over the kitchen counter, hands clasped together, water bottle now gone; you assume he had thrown it out while you were talking. He looks conflicted, like there were millions of thoughts in his head, racing at a hundred miles per hour.

“Is it because I’m a little basic in bed?” he asks, point-blank.

Oh Lordy. “No,” you rush to say, “not at all. I love how you treat me in bed, you’re considerate and gentle and loving, it’s just there’s always room to add things and see what else we’d like, you know?”

He hums, “Okay,” — there’s the breakthrough, “Where would we start?”

“Overstimulation?”

Nodding, he leans further onto the counter, — “Okay, and from there?”

You give him a shocked look, he’s already trying to think ahead? “Well, I haven’t really given it much thought,” you say. “I could try topping one time—“

“Like riding?”

You laugh, “No, I mean like…” moving your hands around in weird little circles, “I could take control, you know? Like, maybe be in charge, not just on top, on top.”

He pushes himself off the counter and walks towards you, slow. “And when should we start?”

When he reaches you, you interlock your fingers and urge him to sway back and forth with you. “Doesn’t have to be today. We’re both tired. It’s good we brought it up, though. Maybe starting tomorrow? What you think about that?”

Toshi shuffles his weight from foot to foot, finally coming into a nice, gentle swing. “Tomorrow then.”

You smile, and let out a heavy breath. “I thought this was gonna go a totally different direction. I’m just so glad I can talk to you about these things. I love you, Toshi.”

He returns the smile, and gods, he’s so pretty. “You can always talk to me, no matter what. I always want you to be able to trust me enough to talk about things like this.“ he brings you close and kisses your forehead. “I love you, honey. So much.”

Pulling back, you flick him gently on the temple. “Ok, ok, Mr. Sentimental.” you tease, “Bed?”

“Oh, are we starting already?” he almost giggles at his own joke. Bastard.

“Oh, shut up. I mean Bed bed. Race you there?”

“You know I always win.”

“Yeah, but I always try.”

Needless to say, you can’t wait until tomorrow.

[greenhappyseed]

BnHA Chapter 317: Thoughts & comparisons part 2 - THE OLD MAN AND THE KID

As mentioned in Part 1, I'm splitting my thoughts on Chapter 317 into 3 posts: this one about Deku and All Might (part 2), plus separate posts on the hero brain trust and the media (part 1) and the hero killer Stain (part 3).

* * * * * * * * * *

This part of the chapter was an emotional sucker punch and gave me strong "Gift of the Magi" vibes. All Might is trying to protect his boy by following him, and Deku is trying to protect his idol by saying goodbye. Unfortunately, there's no guarantee of safety for anyone right now, so their "gifts" of protection are unusable. All Might isn't safe whether All Might follows Deku or stays behind. Same for Deku -- his loved ones aren't safe whether he accepts their help or not. It's the harsh reality of what AFO does. The real thing that All Might and Deku need to focus on isn't giving each other the "gift" of safety, but on how strong their bond is.

The main stumbling block is that Deku STILL idolizes All Might (as All Might recognized a few chapters ago). As the adult, it was on All Might to speak up, but he didn't because he's scared to disappoint his boy. He already knows the pain of disappointing a fanboy, so this would take it to a whole new level. But if he really wants to keep Izuku in his life, he MUST risk it and tell the kid all the things he wishes someone had told him. As I wrote previously (between Ch 315-16) it's maddening because we know All Might is capable of having this kind of frank talk with Izuku -- he did it all the way back in Ch 2. All Might saw Izuku overworking himself and modified the workout plan to moderate Izuku's extreme behavior, which would have prevented Izuku from reaching his ultimate goal if left unchecked. So yeah, All Might knows better, and knows he can’t stand idly by while his kid makes a massive deadly mistake. When a child doesn’t have the capacity to help themselves and the consequences are serious, an adult HAS to step in and help ASAP. Talk to the kid, talk to the kid’s friends/teachers, talk to professionals. Keep going until your kid gets the help they need, because even if a parent/guardian can’t help directly, it’s their responsibility to find that help for their kid. Haven’t we learned anything from the lost children in the League of Villains?

Meanwhile, Deku doesn't see All Might as a human who loves Izuku Midoriya. I think, in part due to his being bullied and his innate tendency to not take himself into account, he sees All Might's devotion to him as part of a predecessor-successor relationship. Deku will struggle as long as he sees "All Might" as an ideal and not the human in front of him. (Admittedly, I thought the HPSC storyline might go here and disclose All Might’s awareness of some “grey” missions, causing Deku to look at his mentor through a different lens.) But even now, Deku is trying to have an "I AM HERE" moment so All Might is proud of his successor, but fails to realize All Might is ALREADY PROUD (in part because All Might hasn't vocalized it in a way that Deku can truly hear it). The "You don't look back at me anymore..." in context is immediately followed up by this glowing Dadmight moment:

It only becomes a sad moment in retrospect as All Might realizes (1) he didn't really tell Deku explicitly how proud he was often enough; and (2) the full weight of what it means to nurture a child towards independence (and that his boy is just like him, and is heading towards the same fate as him....)

While I definitely think Bakugo will knock some sense into Deku, I still think All Might is the only one that can truly “release” Deku from these burdens, especially the ones related to the “Symbol of Peace” and the Shimura family that are tied directly to All Might. We see this in Deku’s callbacks:

Nana in the vestige world sobbing over her mistake in giving up Kotaro, saying she and Gran Torino were wrong, and testing Deku’s resolve to save Shigaraki. Juxtaposed with Gran Torino saying, "I should have made the kill...sorry...don't be so rigid. Killing can be another way to save someone," and Shigaraki screaming in emotional pain, “I don’t care if you understand. That’s what makes us heroes and villains!” It’s not just AFO — it’s the weight of generations and broken families on Deku’s shoulders. It’s All Might’s failure to save Shigaraki earlier that has become Deku’s problem now.

Post-USJ Deku meeting with All Might, talking about the first time he used OFA without breaking himself, and All Might pressuring Deku to become the Symbol of Peace. Even though All Might no longer feels that way, and SO MUCH has happened since then, he never clearly said so to Deku, and Deku keeps that weight on himself. The past never dies.

Deku is overwhelmed and destined for a poor decision that will hurt someone or himself, which would definitely play into the media's (and AFO's) hands. First, note the flashback inception with Deku recalling the post-USJ All Might meeting, which itself contains a flashback to Thirteen lecturing about how uncontrolled quirks can kill.

Second, the image of the defeated assassin is downright ominous, with the way All Might is shown above Deku's shoulder like a conscience [Edit: see @codenamesazanka's post here for a Spinner parallel!!] and the way the villain is tied up with his head hanging back, mouth open, eyes rolled back…. Deku and All Might are in shadow, and the villain is in the light…. no real attempt to talk to or understand the villain, just what he knows of AFO……SO MUCH POWER in a volatile teenager with too much responsibility and too few physical and emotional reserves. This won't end well.

Ok, time to bring the real Dadmight pain. All Might dives to save Midoriya and falls. The only other time he’s fallen flat on the ground like that is when he dove to save the random lady during the Cider House incident (which we got in the anime last week). In that fight, All Might needed a guardian gremlin to save him from falling debris. Hopefully that means he’ll go to UA and find young Bakugo soon, and he won't do something dumb and sacrificial in the meantime. WHO SAVES THE (EX-) HEROES?

All Might is a genuinely good person with good intentions, and he drove himself into the ground to help others, but he’s NOT a god. He’s not infallible or omniscient. He has tunnel vision from pursing the same mission from age 14 to, uh, 50-something, and is learning how to function as a "normal" adult. He never asked for help before, and in fact, considered it shameful (even in Kamino). He needs to follow the advice he was going to give to Deku, and reach out to others to save his little boy and himself. He’s still very much capable of inspiring others, even if he needs to rest sometimes. And with that, we cut to Stain, an extremist who believes in self-sacrifice and idolizes prime All Might. Cue Part 3...

A few other points:

Nobody in this arc (including Deku) seems to be using All Might as a resource based on his decades of experience with the media OR with AFO, and it really bothers me. Why is All Might excluded from the brain trust? They’re acting like All Might is useless because he’s quirkless and no longer a ranked hero, but he's still got his brain and his memories. Are Endeavor, Hawks, and Mt Lady really going to chat with Edgeshot and sort it all out??? Will Jeanist's fiber puns stop AFO??? Ugh. This is why hero society as we know it needs to be radically reworked; these top heroes are misusing resources and NOT TALKING to people who might actually have useful info. Does a "hero" need to wear a costume or hold a license to use their brain?

Will anyone tell Inko???? I posted before about this chapter's reference to All Might promising her that he’ll keep Deku safe. But she generally only appears after Deku gets a big advancement of some sort, so I don't know if she'll pop up soon...although I feel like she might need to? (E.g., my pet theory is that we only get her note in the hospital after the forest raid because Deku saved Kota but failed to save Bakugo.) Who else has "lifted up" All Might except Izuku, Inko, and Aizawa -- and Aizawa is probably not in a place to do heavy emotional labor right now???

Others have noted the outreached hand parallels (PAIN!) so I won’t belabor that. BUT look at All Might’s hand, how it is first outstretched and then starting to curl as he realizes he can’t reach Deku in time. Also, how small and frail All Might's hand looks as it curls up. He's normally drawn with huge hands (as big as Deku’s head) so to see his hands look equal in size to Deku’s shows Deku’s growth. Also, contrast this set of hands moving apart with how we saw hands moving together at Kamino, where All Might’s fighting inspired fearlessness. Hopefully All Might can “fight” here too, and inspire the next generation to to amazing things.

[writefightandflightclub]

Sink then float (Poe Dameron x GN reader)

Summary: Poe comes back from a mission to find that reader is experiencing a depressive episode, and he does what he can to take care of them while they’re sick. Hurt / comfort. Angst / slight fluff.

Author’s note: Was feeling super crappy at the start of the week (I’m ok now!) and this angst-bomb came out of me. Pleased to have finally written something, though it tackles a tough topic. I’ve tried to be as sensitive as possible while writing about depression, and while it’s something I have experienced in the past, of course it manifests differently for everyone. I have drawn on some personal experience to write this, but it is a fic. Therefore, it is necessarily outside of my direct experience, which opens up the possibility I may have gotten something wrong. Therefore, if you think there’s anything I’ve handled in a way that is harmful (even honest mistakes can be mistakes) I’m happy for you to send me an ask outlining this so I can correct and do better.

Warnings: It deals with reader in a depressive episode, and it is from reader’s POV. As such, it is pretty angsty, ngl, as reader’s thought process is in a bad place. The piece grows more hopeful as it progresses, and ends on a hopeful note, however it may still be difficult reading. I’ve actively tried to acknowledge in the text where reader’s thought-process is skewed by being sick e.g. when they say they are worthless, I’ve tried to directly counter this as it’s not objectively true. The last thing I want is for anyone to feel worse reading this, so I’ve tried not to validate reader’s most difficult thoughts (though what they’re going through is valid and it is valid for reader to be experiencing those thoughts)! That said, please take care when reading, as some of the feelings and thoughts set out may be triggering. Also, whilst there is no direct mention or suicidal thoughts or ideation, I am also warning for that, as there is some crossover in thought patterns. Ultimately, this is a fic about Poe being there to comfort reader, but reader finding that shred of hope inside themseleves, amidst feelings of hopelessness. I didn’t want to suggest that Poe could “fix” reader, so yes, they are still depressed at the end, but more comforted and hopeful than at the start. Sorry for all the warnings, but I wanted to be clear so you can make an informed decision on whether to read. Please stay safe!

GIF by @twillight​. Yowzers, it’s PRETTY AF.

There’s no poetry any more.

There are only syllables. Vowels like an orange in your mouth. Consonants rattling between your teeth. You speak only of sleep. Your words hollow like a worn, sprung mattress; inviting rest but offering no comfort.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

There is no art any more.

Not even in a thousand burning suns. Not even as you tip your face up to the milky black. Not even in his face; that face you love. You look, and you feel numb.

Numb. Numb. 

No music.

Birds sing. It’s just noise, ringing in the hollow of your body.

Noise. 

You want to sleep. It is all you want, and you merely want it because you want nothing else.

No dance in your body. No motion; only stillness.

No fight left in you...

What is left, then?

Nothing?

Nothing left.

Yes.

Nothing but the robust pang of hunger.

Nothing but the parching thirst.

Nothing but this weight on your chest, pressing you to the bed.

Nothing but the refresher door taunting you because you can’t cross the chasm in five steps.

Nothing but the guilt and self-hatred, and false, invasive belief that you are worthless.

Guilt because you...

Can’t.

So much then? So much where there is “nothing”?

You are simply so full of empty that it has pushed everything good down. It has pushed you down until you are sunken. Until you are yelling at yourself from below water, sound muted.

Everything muted.

Colours. Feelings. Life. Love.

Worst of all, your love will be home soon.

Home and sleep is all you...

Home and you haven’t even...

You almost think about ...

You sigh.

You can’t.

You can’t complete the...

You feel nothing, and yet guilty tears fall to the pillow. A part of you understands you are not to blame for being sick, and still, there is this guilt.

You have him. 

Poe. Poe. Poe.

So, shouldn’t you be happy?

Why can’t you be happy?

Love shakes the inside of your chest, rattling against the bars of your ribs and wanting to be known. Reminding you of what you lack. It hurts. Everything hurts when it flexes, even love. Especially love. It flexes and it feels only restriction. It feels only weight on its chest. Such pain.

He will be home soon.

You love him. You know this, intellectually. And yet, you don’t want to see him. Don’t want think of him. Because you don’t want to be seen by him.

Not like this.

You don’t want to let him down. You don’t want to break his heart by meeting his loving gaze so hollow. As if he is not sunshine. As if he is not a thousand suns blazing; and yet, instead of poetry and art and music in your heart when you think of him, there are mere syllables, images, noise. There are those vowels again, large like an orange in your mouth, consonants rattling in between your teeth as you cry muffled sounds into the pillow.

He’ll be home soon. You don’t know how soon. You don’t know how long you have layed like this.

Still, all you can do is lie empty, where the room brims with mess and misery and shadow.

All you can do is lie in this empty room, where you brim full with sorrow.

It is enough. This is enough. You are enough, though you can’t see it.

And so, because you can’t see it, can’t feel it, you bring your hands to your face, despairing. Your fingers find your hair, and it’s dirty.

You just want to sleep. You want to tug the covers back over your head and disappear but..

There is a rap at the door.

He’s home now.

A soft knock, then inistent.

He’s back.

After a week apart he’ll be so...

...disappointed to see you. At least, that’s what you mind is telling you to believe.

You turn away and close your eyes as he pushes through into the dark room. You cannot look at his sunshine. It is too bright, like the round circle of sun at the mouth of a deep well. You cannot look, so your eyes scrunch closed as he flicks on a lamp, and you hear his feet deftly pick through the mess on your floor.

You try not to look.

You try not to hear.

You try not to exist.

How can feeling nothing still hurt? How can you wish to feel even less than this, just to blunt your pain?

Still, you do feel something. You feel his sturdy weight settle on to the bed beside you.

You do hear. You hear him sigh.

Yes, he sighs, but it’s gentle, concerned, and his hand finds your shoulder, his touch like warm sand on your cold, goosepimpled skin. Rough and full of sunshine.That blessed sunshine you cannot -at the present moment-comprehend.

“Honey?” he asks, and you hear his voice, soft and tender. You hear his love, but you can’t feel it. No, you can’t.

His voice should ignite you. There should be blood moving beneath your skin but...

There is nothing. There is nothing in your mouth. Nothing but bones in your body.

“Honey, look at me, please?”

You peel your eyes open, bracing yourself for the disappointment you expect to find carved into his face. His eyes examine you, assess you, eyes flitting around the room to understand how bad things are. The state of you, the state of the room. The half-filled bottle of meds at your bedside- at least you’ve been keeping those up. That’s something. Something where you would insist there is nothing.

That look. That look in your eyes, your pupils like bleak, empty wells he tips his sunlight into, and yet he can’t reach the depths of you. Can’t warm all the way through, even as his eyes brim with tears and love.

He doesn’t look surprised, at least. He ran into one of the others first, then; Leia or Finn or Rey. They warned him. Warned him that you are worthless, a burden. No, you are not those things, you try to remember. They will have warned him that you are sick.

Suddenly, looking at him, you have words.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your mouth as dry as sandpaper. 

“Why in the hell are you sorry, baby?” he asks gently, surprised now, his eyes searching yours. How does he do that? How does he look at you as if you are beautiful, even like this? Perhaps you are beautiful, even like this. Yes, you are. He sees it when you can’t.

“Because I...” you look away from him and sigh, even these simple words taxing your energy,”...couldn’t....”

Couldn’t get out of bed.

Couldn’t want to.

Couldn’t be happy when he came home.

Couldn’t want to.

Poe doesn’t judge you though. Not for this.

He’s Poe. Of course he doesn’t. Poe knows that people are not to be judged on such blameless matters. People are not the sum of their illnesses and struggles. You are so much more to him. You are everything to him, in fact.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. Always will. That doesn’t change when you’re sick. Why would it? Why would it?

“You did just fine, honey,” he insists through a thin, watery smile. “I’m still proud of you. I’m still glad to see you.”

You look at him.

He looks back.

You know you should feel poetry in it, like all the other times he’s come home. When your skin and your heart and your breath and your words and your lips were alive. When your body danced with his. 

“It’s bad this time?” he asks. “Like before?”

“I guess,” you croak.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself even though you dont deserve that hate for a second. You hate yourself for what you believe Poe must think of you, but you try to remember that your brain lies, and that Poe tells the truth. You try to remember everything he tells you over and over. You try to remember hope. Rebellions are built on hope, after all, and you? You are a Rebel; therefore, you know you must fight this too. A small, vanishing part of you knows that you can fight it, even if a louder voice in your head tells you you can’t. A voice with bad intentions. This sickness.

Still, you always promise Poe you’ll try. You always try. Have been trying. Even the refresher door becomes something that taunts you, a chasm between you and it as you try to make it there. You always try. Regardless, Poe’s always proud of you.

“Can I hold you?” he asks, his warmth and his unsurpassed beauty evident to you even now, even if it you cannot muster any ready response to it.

You shake your head.

“I’m disgusting.”

“Kriff, me too,” he says, his tone natural and easy, and refusing to shrink away from your pain- from the temporarary reality of you, as some do. “Came straight here. Five days on a mission without a shower? We can stink together,” he adds, with a tentative, lopsided smile, hoping to tease one from you too.

Poe has no trouble being hopeful, where that has never come easily to you.

Still, he’s here. He’s here at your side, all warm, sandy voice and his soft, loving eyes. Even if you had been convinced he would never come back. He is here. His rough hand is swooping over your cheek. Caring for you, even though he must be so tired himself.

Your eyes grow watery and your lower lip trembles. “I should be caring for you, you shouldn’t have to come back to me like this, after fighting...”

“Hey,” he protests, his voice hushed but his tone insistent. “You’ve been fighting too, baby. We both got our missions, yeah? If you ask me, I think you got the raw end of the deal.”

He’s perfect. He’s so perfect. You will the blood to move under your skin. You will your heart to ignite, but there’s nothing.

Correction; there’s nothing yet. It will come. It will get better.

Poe’s voice and eyes soothe you as you contemplate this. “There’s nowhere else I wanna be. I just wanna hold you. Okay, baby? Missed your beautiful face. Missed you so much. I’m kriffin’ lucky to come back to you.” 

Missed your smile, he might have said. You missed it too. Misplaced it.

Forgot how to...

Your thought-spiral is interupted as Poe shifts slowly on the bed, and he curls his warm, sturdy body around yours, holding his beloved little spoon tightly.

He’s wrapped around you, but you wish you could feel him.

Still, as his arms wind around you to tug you into him, you clasp his forearms tightly against your chest. A part of you knows. A part of you feels. You know how important this is. That he is home.

“Mission go ok?” you ask in monotone.

“Yeah,” he says, exhaling a tired puff of air into the back of your neck.

You wish you could melt for him and comfort him in return. You try, at least.

You try, but you feel like a gargoyle carved from stone, sorrow frozen on you. Face locked in a grimace. What mason would be so cruel as this? To make this bitter emotion permanent as stone? However, as he squeezes you tighter, fits against you so naturally, so familiar... As he touches you, you remember you are, in fact, skin and bone. You remember, even though the memory may be distant, that although your heart is heavy now, it once was light.

If it once was light it can be that way again.

He kisses your hair, even though it is dirty. He breathes you in, even though you are not clean. He loves you, and even if you think you are broken, he thinks you are perfect.

You are perfect.

His body heat suffuses through you, and you hadn’t realised how cold you were, until he warmed you. Poe had noticed, though. Poe loves you.

“Have you eaten? Drank anything?” he whispers into your neck, after a moment of holding you in gratitude and breathing deep, relieved breaths.

“Finn made me eat something,” you say, almost embarrassed, even though you know Poe does not judge you. “Managed half a ration. It was... today? I think it was today, I don’t know...”

“That’s good, baby!” he praises, entirely genuine. You feel him shift on the bed behind you, sitting up with his back against the headboard.

“C’mere,” he encourages softly, bundling you into his chest, and producing a ration bar from the pocket of his flight suit. “Split this with me while I tell you about the mission, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, and Poe can hear that you sound a little sceptical. You doubt you have the energy to engage with him.

“I’ll tell you all the funny and horrific stories of your boyfriend’s heroics this past week. Shall I do The Thing as well?” he asks, and you swivel your head to look-up at him, seeing him tick up an eyebrow, slightly amused.

“Yes please,” you say, and you even manage the barest of smiles.

Poe proceeds to tell you all about his week as you nestle into his chest, his voice flowing through you like warm sand, pouring in and filling up just a little of the emptiness inside you. He also does The Thing, and he intersperses his animated storytelling with “your” part too, so that you don’t have to worry about upholding a conversation. So that you only have to listen, and you don’t have to worry that you aren’t able to react as you typically would. 

“That would be the bit right there you’d laugh,” he says as he recounts his finest dumbassery from the mission. A small smile inches over your face, as though you are rehearsing your own emotions. Trying them out. “Yeah, I think that one would be dumb enough to get a belly laugh from you.”

He continues.

“This would be the bit you would tear off my clothes because I’m a dashing badass,” he adds as he relays how he took down a ton of TIEs. “Yeah, definitely. You’d try to get steamy right about now.”  

It might be odd, but it is a comfort. It doesn’t remind you what you lack. You feel less of a deficit this way, as it reminds you what you’re capable of. That it is not always like this. That you do not always feel like this.

Will not, as soon as you’re better.

“And you, honey? Mission report?”  

You sigh, trying to think through what you have done, rather than what you haven’t. Even if the things to recount don’t sound as impressive as Poe’s, he always insists the battle is no less worthy. You are worth fighting for, after all.

“Well... I got a lot of sleep. Beebs made sure I took my meds.” It’s a short list, but what could be more important than that? The fact that you held on? Then, you have your first playful thought in days. “My love came home to me, and he thinks he’s all that, but he stinks pretty bad,” you tease, as if you weren’t in an entirely equal state.

“Kriff, you’re teasing me from your sick bed?” Poe’s chest shakes against you in gentle mirth. “Brutal, honey. Kriffin’ brutal.” You have a point though, he concedes. “We should both shower though, huh? Before someone catches a whiff and reports a possible herd of bantha in room z88?”

He clocks your trepidation as your eyes flick over to that taunting refresher door.

He squeezes your arm, and somehow manages to be encouraging without even a hint of being condescending. “Pretty far, huh? You can do it yourself tomorrow, but.. d’ya want your big strong man to carry you for now, baby?”

“Yes please,” you smile, and Poe shifts once again. First, he strips off his flight suit and tosses it aside, and then he peels back the covers and helps you to stand. Then, he helps you step out of your vest and pants, before swooping you up and carrying you the five paces to the refresher door, setting you down gently. You glance back at the rumpled bed, which still calls out to you, and although it is a short distance away, you feel like you have trekked across a damn galaxy.

Poe begins to run the water warm in the shower, casually handing you a fresh tumbler of water to sip on as he does so. Then, he takes your hand and eases you under the stream of water.

Poe’s broad hands lather up your body and your hair, feeling like an act of worship as he slowly, gently, washes days of rest away from you, without question. Without expecting anything from you in return except to let him- and even then, only if you want to. He then makes short work of rinsing off his own body, searching your eyes as he does so.

Water is a funny thing, you think- it can drown and it can cleanse. It can be gentle and forceful, deep and still or turbulent. After days of drowning, it feels good simply to be clean. To begin to rise to the surface.

You reach towards that circle of sunlight at the mouth of the well. You look a little deeper into his eyes. See a little further.

“A little better?” he asks.

You nod. A little better. 

You step out with him, and even though he’s tired -ragged from this mission- he dries you off.

He changes your sheets.

He picks your dirty laundry up from your floor and throws it in the basket. He throws away your trash.

He let the light in.

Literally.

Then figuratively.

Yes, you still feel so heavy. So, so heavy.

But you know. A part of you knows that lightness will come again, if you just hang on. You can see it. You can see that light at the surface, still out of reach, but not forever.

You watch him as he cares for you in all these small ways and suddenly there are vowels and consonants pushing out from beneath your ribs.

“I love you,” you say as you perch on the edge of the bed, right where he seated you, not thinking to move. 

He pauses, dropping what he’s doing and coming to kneel on the floor in front of you. Tenderly, ever so tenderly, he takes your face in his hands, and his warm eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen him, as if he can’t believe that you fought hard enough to push this love out from the depths. For him. Even though you are so sunken. Even though you cannot do it for yourself yet.

“I love you too,” he promises, entirely earnest. 

You push a small smile on to your face, even though you know you need not wear masks for him.

Yes, it got bad again, but it will get better.

You hang on, and that’s enough. More than enough.

You have to hang on, because there will come a day you’ll be so glad you did.

When everything in your chest rises up and gasps for air and lets you breathe again. You will break the surface and come back strong and eager for this life.

“It scares me when you’re sick. I love you so much.”

“I’ll be okay again,” you nod. “Or, I’ll try.”

That’s all anyone could ask of you. That’s all you can ask of yourself.

That is enough. More than enough.

You are enough. You are more than enough for him.

You look at him. He looks back.

His face. His face is art. You feel all those things; poetry, art, music, dance. They’re there. They’re just sunken. Muted.

Poetry is in the pauses too. The blank lines and empty spaces; in the missed beats. You will come back to yourself, and you will make new art. Feel new things. Things more full and replete with joy. Joy can clamber from out of the deepest wells, given time. It will. It will again.

“Can I kiss you?” Poe asks shyly. “Been desperate to kiss you,” he admits, the corners of his plush lips tugging up into a smile. He is sunshine. He is beautiful. Perfect.

You nod, and his lips meet yours, chaste and gentle, and not expecting anything in return.

You try your best to feel him. To feel at all.

You close your eyes and hope you will open your heart. It has begun, with a crack to let the light in.

There is fight left in you, even if you can’t see it. Even when you can’t feel it.

“I’m so happy to be home with you,” Poe says, and his words are greeted with silence.

That’d be the bit you’d usually say... I’m so happy too. But Poe offers his words freely, and you know he doesn’t expect anything from you in return. He doesn’t expect your happiness. He simply wants to give you his.

This is not a warm story, but he is warm.

Correction; this is not a warm story, not yet.

But, oh. Oh, it will be.

It was so, in the chapter before, and it will be, in the chapter which is coming.

And you? You will thaw, I promise. Not because of him. But because of you. Because you’re a fighter. Because no matter how long you may be sunken, you will float.

Poetry takes a breath sometimes. Misses a beat. It is not a waste. It is not worthelss, this pause. Sometimes it is needed. The big breath hope takes before it floats to the surface. So, maybe there is hope.

Yes. There’s hope.

There is hope.

Hope is like the sun. If you only believe it when you see it you'll never make it through the night.  Isn’t that what Leia says?

You will make it through this night.

This is how you feel now but will not be how you feel forever. You are not carved from stone. You are a fluid thing; you are made of water. Sometimes, you can drown in yourself, and sometimes you can be cleansed. You are always moving and ebbing, even if it’s so far below the surface that you cannot detect the shift.

This will shift.

Love and life and light are straining, deep down, and after all that straining, pushing, trying, when they resurface they will be strong.

There’s a reason they say hope floats.

It cannot be drowned forever, even if it is is drowned right now. It is not set in stone. You will float, up beyond that circle of sunshine. You will heal, even though you are hurt.

Poe knows this. His eyes tell you all this, but most of all, you know it; no, you feel it, in the depths of you. This is truth.

Poe peels back the covers, and he tugs you to his bare body, warm flesh against yours.

He’s tired. All his body can speak of now is sleep.

You are both tired of fighting, so for now, you must rest, and try again tomorrow. You stroke his hair and he strokes your back, and for now, this is enough.

Yes, for now, this is more than enough.

You are enough.

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Chapter Nineteen

Finding something of my own.

Tag List: @wanderlust75​  @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​

Master List

I tuck a loose copper curl behind my ear as I peck at the keys of my computer. It was quiet in our big house with Bishop out at the clubhouse. And I was home alone with my work. It should be easier to work without anyone else underfoot. But the emptiness of the house was distracting.

I glanced over the list of things that Vicki and her girls needed then placed the order. I had a med student scheduled to go over and perform exams with me later in the week.  Everything with Vicki was working out fine.  I just wrote the checks. But I wanted to work. To do more. 

I chewed on my lip and stared at my phone and typed out her number. I wasn’t exactly sure what exactly I had to discuss with the wife of Miguel Galindo but she had a foothold in this town that I didn’t have yet and maybe we could work together on something to make things better. I hoped my connections paired with the force of the Galindos could boost us both into legitimate business.

“Hello?” her voice sounded confused when she answered. I suppose my own would be if I got a call from some strange woman.

“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Galindo, we haven’t met officially but I do have some business dealings with your husband and was seeing if you needed any assistance with some more humanitarian businesses,” I state.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” she asked. 

“I keep missing introductions,” I smile into the phone, “I’m Nova O’Shay, I’d be more than happy to discuss this in person,” I take note of the time, “Lunch?”

“I have some time free in about an hour,” she responds, “I’ll text you the restaurant.” 

---

I pull my SUV to a stop outside the restaurant. Swankier place that the ones I’d dined at since coming to Santo Padre. I tried to picture Bishop and his Mayans pushing their way through the doors. All eyes would be on them.  I can’t help but smile at the thought. 

I never saw Emily Galindo before in my life but I knew her when I saw her. She was exactly what I’d pictured a trophy wife to look like. But she had a subtle spark. If we worked together we may ignite that into a roaring flame. She seemed to know me as well.

“Thank you for meeting,” I stated after our orders were taken. “I can see you’re a little like me. You love your man, but you want a piece of the world that’s yours by right and not his?” 

She nods listening, “You could say that.”

“I’ve got my fingers in my father’s businesses, also helping Bishop with some club business, but I want something that’s separate from that.”

“I get that,” Emily responded, “that’s why I’ve been working so hard on an agricultural development with the city. Should find out about the bids in the next few days. If you’d be willing to step in, it can be something I can do without Miguel.”

“I would be willing, I have contractor connections here and abroad,” I respond, “we can get this town thriving. It’s the least I can do to give back to the town that took me in and saved me when I needed saving.” 

“Then it’s a deal?” she replied. 

“I’ll call the lawyers and get the papers drawn up,” I cut into my chicken, “this is good. I’ve never eaten here before. But I’ve only been in Santo Padre for about a year. Came just before the fires.”

“The fires took so much from the town, the agra park deal is something we can do to build it back again,” she responded, “I think we can do something great here.”

“We can,” I respond, reaching for the check after it’s left, “I got it.”  I pay the bill and walk with her outside. “We’ll talk soon, Mrs. Galindo.”

“Please call me Emily,” she says, “Mrs. Galindo is my mother in law.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I offer a smile and slide behind the wheel of my SUV. 

I want nothing more than to see Bishop. Have his arms wrapped around me. I laughed at myself while pulling to a stop in the scrap yard, we had been apart for a few hours and I was already missing him. I had it bad. 

Their bikes were gone. I narrowed my brows and walked up the steps into the clubhouse. Letty, Coco’s daughter, sat at a table with another girl I’d never seen before. She didn’t look like any of the girls that hung around the club house. 

“Where is everyone?” I take a seat at the table with them. “I’ve never seen the clubhouse so empty in the middle of the day.” 

“That story is long as fuck,” Letty said with a chuckle, “This is Gabby. Her family just came over, used a coyote. Another club is trying to scam her family out of money. The Mayans are taking care of it.”

“Nice to meet you,” I should have given her a smile, but worry was eating at the pit of my stomach, “How long have they been gone?” 

“Seems like forever,” she replied. “Should be back soon.”  

I perk up hearing the revving of Harley’s coming through the gate.  I follow behind the girls feeling the weight of my fear lifted when Bishop climbs up the steps. His face covered in dirt and grime and the stench of smoke clung to his leather vest. There was a weariness that mirrored back from his dark eyes,“I’m ok, querida.” I cup his face in my hands analyzing every inch. Satisfied he’s unharmed I turn to see that Gabby has found her family.  

I realized at that moment Bishop was my family now.  If anything happened to him, I’d lose a part of myself. “As long as you were careful.” I press my lips to his. 

“Always am,” he drapes his arm around my shoulders as he leads me back in the clubhouse. His smile didn’t seem genuine. Like he had a weight on him. 

“You wanna talk about it?” I search his face for answers. 

“It was fucked up shit,” he says softly, “it’s over now.” I give a nod. I didn’t quite believe him but I wouldn’t press it. He’d tell me if he could. Or when he was ready. 

The sun dipped in the sky as we set down at the bar. My hand massages his thigh as he takes shot after shot. “You know what you're getting yourself into there, querida?” he smirks glancing down at his lap then back up at me. 

“Uh huh,” I say softly as I trace the length of him through his jeans. His eyes dark from as he leans over lips dancing over my ear, “You know I still can’t have you grabbing my dick in front of my guys,” his fingers tangle in my hair, “let me take you home.” 

“It’s still early,” I whisper back, “but I do want you to take me. Meet me in the dorm?” 

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles taking my hand, “there’s no need to be stealth, we go back there everyone knows what we’re doing anyway.” I feel my cheeks flush and let him lead me down the hall. The moment the door closes behind me, his lips crash down on mine. I wrap my arms around him eager to feel every inch of him pressing against me. I moaned into the kiss at just the feel of his hand on my bare flesh as he inches my shirt up higher. Reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug it up over my head. He leads me backwards to the bed. 

“Bishop, please,” I moan loudly as I feel his thickness grinding into me. My fingers fumble with his belt and lift my hips so that he can tug my jeans down.  I let out a groan as he pushed himself deep inside me. 

“That what you wanted, hermosa?” he growled in my ear. He pulled back, hooked my legs over his arms before driving hard and deep inside me. “Yes,” I whimpered. Echoes of my moans and the sound of our bodies slapping together fill the room.  My walls vice around him as my orgasm washes over me, milking him as he chases his own. 

A satisfied smile stretches across my face as we emerge from the dorm. My fingers laced with Bishop’s as we headed back to the bar. 

“Bishop, please,” Angel mocks from behind me.  And my face turns a bright red. 

[shepard-ram]

Anonymous asked

To celebrate this month's pride and to be mild vengeance he's one of my favourite au's from the discord the yandere mcc au hope you enjoy the friend trio oc's.

You had no idea how your dear avian friend Alfie had won the sweepstake and gain those tickets to the mcc charity masquerade but hey standing here now with your friends in very fancy looking clothing and masks (thanks to Xanders want to show up all the rich attendants with the clothes he had made,you had never seen such determination in his eight eyes) having the time of your lives. You were only going to see these people once after all you could have some fun at their expense right, at least that was your thought as The Badboyhalo who was taller than even Erma (which was impressive considering she was an enderian) stammered out an excuse as he left blush covering the entirety of his face, you could hear your friends chuckle as they watched you lay the charm down thick sending each and everyone who was coming your way running back to their little rich people group stammering and blushing, ok only stammering in the case of Dream since he had a mask that covering entirety of his face like on all his public appearances.

Wilbur was having the time of his life at this party, he had thought it would be yet another boring charity event where he, his friends and family showed up looked nice for the cameras and donated a little to the cause of the day like every other even he's gone to these last few years but no some unknown human was providing no end of entertainment,how had he not met you sooner surely he must have met the charming socialite at some other event but he couldn't have after all he would have remembered a group consisting of a human, arachnid, avian and a enderian a group like that is not something you see every day was this the first event your group had gone to? You guys were certainly bold using the noxcrews masquerade as your debutante but a glance at Noxites amused grin showed that your boldness was paying off.

As Dream rejoined them his mind was drawn back to the game they had started against you, after Bad had returned face red and lovesick expression on his face they had decided to see if anyone would be immune to the humans charm or if anyone can make the human flustered but no one had succeeded and now even Dream had lost like everyone else, the stammer in his voice and constant glances back in their direction showing that he had fallen as well. The last chance they had against the human with the silver tongue was Techno surely the seven foot tall piglin hybrid wearing a literal boar skull as his mask would be their limit or he would remain as unflappable as always and resist the humans charm it took some convincing on his part but soon his brother was making his way towards them, unfortunately it had all been for naught as the human just cranes their neck to look techno in the eyes before long his brother came back face crimson and with a smile that threatened to split his face into. Rather than feel disappointed that they had lost he just felt even more amused when it was made rather apparent that the human would have more than a few admirers visiting them once they figured out who they were himself and his brother included, the masquerade was almost over all that was left was the raffle.

You had completed forgotten about the raffle so caught up in your little game, you didn't need to enter since entry was automatic for guests such as your group these prizes though were absolutely exorbitant even the "disappointing" prizes were worth more than your shared apartment and the price of rent for at least a decade. None of your group won any of the prizes which was ok Alfie probably used all of your groups luck just winning the tickets. You just waiting for the winner of the mcc team prize to be announced then you would all go home to your shared apartment and sleep in the nest that Alfie and Xander made for you all, you were brought out of your sleepy train of thought when you heard Noxites voice declaring that a the winner was the human next to the arachnid, avian and enderian...WHAT!? How had you gotten the only prize that couldn't be sold, oh prime you were going to see these people again, you didn't even need to look you could just feel their eyes drilling into you. This was very very bad, you made sure that your group left as soon as possible running as soon as you guys were out of sight of any potential masquerade goers. Once you guys were back in your shared tiny one bedroom apartment, you later it out flat that you guys were going to have to keep up the rich person act otherwise things could go south rather than the expected reaction of dread like you were feeling, Xander simply went over to his little crafts closet and declared that he vowed to bring the noxcrews costume designers to shame, Erma rushed off saying she was going to find the perfect codenames for you all since this would be a covert operation leaving only Alfie to wrap a wing around you and try and comfort you saying that at least you had left a good impression with them all right? It was official you were the only person in his apartment with even a little bit of common sense. Deciding to calm yourself down by reading your news feed didn't help as you saw news articles with quotes from the other mcc participants stating that the "golden geese" would come dead last and to not expect anything from the rag-tag group besides a bunch of unprepared socialites that would likely forfeit because it would be to hard for them. You could just feel the dread give way to pure rage at the idea of people laughing at your friends, oh you would make sure your all prepared, more than prepared you would be more than willing to knock them down a ladder or two as they say "pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall".

We haven't even gotten into the yandere yet this is just the prologue. Not going to lie got the names for the of friends from a random name generator they have existed for a while but I never gave them names but the names they have now fit them I think. Lastly as light said yes you were absolutely correct but you didn't have to out our little trio.

Ender-anon

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WOOO One of the most iconic sagas from the discord has arrived for all to see! I love the origins trio so much and I hope y'all enjoy this because trust me- Ender has alot more to share

[shotsbyshae]

Not Afraid Anymore

Warnings: Language,Smut

Words: 2.3k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: A little Sinday Drabble. There is a reason Nick Fury assigned you to Steve Rogers. You’ll tell him one day.  

Song: Not Afraid Anymore by Halsey.

And touch me like you never.

2012

You were there the day he was thawed out.

Watching as Agent Coulson fanboyed out over the life-size Ken doll.

Fury rolling his one good eye makes you hide a smirk.

You bet Coulson fifty bucks that he wouldn’t fall for the elaborate set-up S.H.I.E.L.D. had created to try and convince him it was still 1945.

Phil took the bet.

There is no hiding the smug smile from your face when Coulson’s beloved Captain America goes feral, knocking out agents, busting through the wall, and running out of the facility.

You watch from the backseat of the black SUV as Fury approaches Rogers. The man standing in the middle of Time Square looks like a lost puppy with his wide, innocent blue eyes and short blonde hair.

“Are you going to tell him?” Phil questions from the driver’s seat. “Who your –”

“No,” you interrupt him. “I think he’s got enough to process for a while.”

Nick speaks with him for a few moments, then he begins walking the science experiment back to your SUV. Fury had ridden with you and Coulson. Which means – the rear passenger door opens and you’re not sure why you feel nervous as Steve Rogers climbs onto the bench seat beside you.

“Hi,” he looks surprised by your presence and the word comes out uneasy as Fury climbs into the passenger seat.

“Captain, this is Agent Coulson,” Fury introduces your superior first, which is customary, before he gives the man your name.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve gives a nod, eyes narrowing slightly. Something about you is familiar, but he can’t place it and you see the questions written on his face.

You feel awful for him.

This wouldn’t be easy for anyone.

Waking up to find everyone and everything you knew is gone.

Later, you stand outside Fury’s office, watching him and Coulson. Steve Rogers sits in front of Fury’s desk, looking more rattled than he did in Times Square. Nick Fury’s eyes land on you through the glass partition and he raises his hand, motioning for you to come inside.

“Sir?” you question him as you enter, closing the door behind you.

“I’m going to need you to help Captain Rogers adjust,” Fury states, his gaze shifting over to the Captain. “A lot has changed in seventy years.”

“What?” the request shocks you. You glance to Coulson and he gives you a nod of reassurance.

Of course. Why would they assign someone else to him when you’re here?

Only Coulson and Fury know who you really are.

“Agent Coulson’s already cleared you,” Fury comments and you look over to the man in the chair.

A big, blonde, blue-eyed, lost puppy.

You had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. to make a difference.

For the thrill of missions and secrecy.

Yet, here you are, baby-sitter to Captain America himself.

So, for months you help him – teach him – things that he should know.

The Internet. Cell phones. Computers.

A checking account. Debit card.

Shopping. Driving, although he’s more comfortable on a motorcycle.

Microwaves.

Pizza Rolls.

Nutella.

You introduce him to Star Wars and the two of you start doing movie nights to get him caught up on cultural references.

Rogers tells you about life before the serum, about Bucky, Dr. Erskine, Howard, and Peggy. You hear about his team, The Howling Commandos and their raids on Hydra.

He’s lost so much, and you see a side of him that no one else sees.

The golden boy is broken.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, as the two of you approach your car one night. He always insists on walking out with you when you leave his apartment.

“For?” you question, shoving your hands in your jacket pockets as you smile, hitting the unlock button on the key fob there, because he’s already reaching for your car door.

So old-fashioned.

“I know you didn’t want me as an assignment,” he says, pulling open the driver’s door. “But you’ve helped me – a lot. I mean, I don’t really have anyone, so thank you, for being a friend.”

Little lost puppy.

You give him a warm smile, “Well, you have me now and I’m pretty awesome.” He laughs as you smirk. “I’ll always be your friend, Rogers. I promise.”

“Oh, that’s a promise?” he says it questioningly, and you pull your right hand from your pocket. Fist clenched tightly, only your pinky finger extending from it.

“Pinky swear,” you say simply, and a smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he lifts his left hand to wrap his pinky finger around yours.

“Okay,” he remarks. “Pinky swear it is.”

Friends.

Always.

You keep your promise, even when Loki gets inside your head later that year. On the carrier, you come face to face with Steve and for a moment, you hesitate. Unable to fight him as the Asgardian had instructed you to do. Natasha lands a hard, right hook to your jaw, knowing it had worked on Clint.

When you wake up, Fury’s there. He tells you about Coulson and your heart shatters, but you keep your emotions in check. You follow him to a conference table where he gives a speech to what’s left of the team.

Everyone’s in their own head.

Defeated, but determined.

He doesn’t come to you until later, when you’re sitting on the steps, adjusting the leather gloves of your uniform as you wait for the fight that’s coming.

“You good?” there’s concern in his tone.

You nod, “I’m – I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t you,” he states. “We’re okay.”

Your eyes shift up to him. The red, white, and blue uniform making him look every bit the hero that Coulson would fanboy over. You lift your fist to him, extending your pinky finger. He gives a smile, his finger twisting around yours tightly.

2014

You keep your promise, even when the Hydra trained assassin The Winter Soldier tries to kill you, and Steve tells you that the man is Bucky Barnes. You’re not convinced – until you are – as you watch The Winter Soldier pull an unconscious Captain America from the river.

Sam tells you he’s awake and when you enter the hospital room, he tries to give you a smile. It pains you to see him so beaten and bruised.

Little lost puppy.

Broken again.

“I saw him,” you say quietly, standing beside the edge of the bed. “I saw him pull you from the river.”

“It’s Bucky,” he states, the sadness in his voice is heartbreaking.

You lay your hand on top of his, a small comfort, “I should have believed you. I’m sorry.”

His hand shifts under yours and you feel his pinky finger intertwine with yours.

A reminder.

2015

Tony Stark brings you in full time at the tower after the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. because Fury left him a note explaining who you really are.

Stark is surprised to say the least, but happy, and he promises to keep it a secret. You haven’t told Rogers yet, but you will – at some point.

Ultron happens and Tony moves you upstate to the new facility and suddenly you’re spending more time with him than before when not on missions.

You overhear him and Sam in the kitchen one night.

“What’s the deal with you two?” Wilson questions.

“Sam,” Steve sounds exasperated. “She’s a friend. It’s easy to be around her – she knows me.”

“Uh huh,” Sam remarks. “Pretty sure they have another word for that.”

“Sam,” his tone is reprimanding.

“Okay,” Wilson replies. “But weren’t you the one giving Banner advice on not waiting too long?”

You’d be lying if you said the thought’s never crossed your mind.

You’re human.

But he’s always been that lost puppy in the middle of Times Square.

The broken hero in need of a friend.

You enter the kitchen, surprising Sam more than Steve. He smiles at you warmly, a small glint in his blue eyes and it reminds you that as long as he needs you to be that – you will.

His friend.

Always.

2016

Nigeria happens and everyone’s hit hard. The night you all return, he stops by your room. Leaning against your doorframe, still looking like the blonde haired, blue-eyed puppy you were assigned, just a bit older – refined.

“You okay?” you question him as you continue to unpack your duffel.

“No,” he responds quietly. “But I have to be.”

Closing the drawer on your dresser you sigh, before turning around to face him, “Heavy is the head, Cap.” You move back toward your bed. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” he folds his arms across his chest. “Hey, I – I – know it’s not the best time.” When he stumbles over the words, you glance at him. He’s all nerves. “But do you want to get dinner this weekend – with me?”

Your brows furrow curiously at his question, “Dinner?”

“Yea,” he responds with a slight nod. “Dinner.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face and you watch it reciprocate on his as you say, “Sure.”

“Ok then,” the puppy is still in there, because you see him. “Good.”

The two of you never make it to dinner though.

Ross shows up the next day with the Accords and turns your world upside down. When the lines get drawn, you find yourself standing across from Steve Rogers. The wounded look in his eyes is enough to shatter you.

For the first time, you are part of the reason he’s a little more broken.

Your heart is ripped from your chest when Tony returns from Siberia, tossing the vibranium shield on the floor in front of you. You see the anger and heartache in the older man’s face, but he doesn’t tell you what happened.

Only that Steve is alive.

2018

Two years.

It’s not that long, but it feels like an eternity.

The pardon had gone into effect and they were finally coming home.

Your friends – family really.

Although, after the fight in Germany, you’re not sure if Steve even wants to see you.

Keeping yourself busy as a distraction in the lab, you aren’t aware someone’s standing in the doorway watching as you run tests on an artifact Parker had come across. He finally clears his throat to gain your attention and you turn around slowly.

The man standing in the doorway of the lab, makes the Steve Rogers you met the day he woke up after being in the ice look like a boy. A thick, dark beard lines his jaw, his once short, bright, blonde hair, now darker, longer. You have the sudden urge to run your fingers through it, and you realize you’re staring at him – not breathing.

“Steve,” you say his name as if it’s foreign to you.

“Hey,” his voice is even a little deeper.

His eyes are the same though. A beautiful pain stricken blue.

You can’t imagine what he’s been through the past two years. The fallout with Tony was bad enough, but the things he’s done since then.

The person he had to become.

Still the broken hero.

But how many times can a broken thing break?

“I missed you,” he finally says softly, and you smile as you bring your fist in front of you, pinky extended.

A reminder.

There’s a ghost of smile on his lips as his long legs close the distance between you in a couple strides. His finger hooking yours tightly. “I needed you.” He whispers, eyes taking in your features before his soft, plush lips crash against yours. He moves his hand to encompass the side of your face, his tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste.

This wasn’t the reunion you had expected.

No objections though.

His broad shoulders seem to tower over you as he pushes you against the lab table behind you. A glass beaker falls victim to the collision and shatters against the floor. Steve Rogers may still be broken, but this is a side of him you’ve never seen.

He’s filled with desire and want, spreading it to you with every lick and dip of his tongue.

An all-consuming need.

Wet.

Hot.

Desperate.

You’re arching into him, feeling the length of him press into your hip – hard. Your fingers are in his hair, pulling him closer to you. His mouth moves to your jaw, before working his way down your neck. You feel the graze of his teeth at the vein there, nipping and sucking.

You didn't know you wanted this.

Needed this.

You've never needed anything more than him in this moment.

That little lost puppy – a full-grown wolf – who knows exactly what he wants.

You.

“Steve,” his name comes out in a breathy moan against his ear and you feel him press harder against you. The moan from his chest feels more like a growl and your right leg hooks around him. You need to feel him there and his fingers grip your thigh tightly as he grinds into you. His mouth captures yours again a little softer this time – affectionately. You press against him, heat radiating through your jeans, an aching, slick beneath and you need him to know what he's doing to you.

Begging for him to take you.

To devour you like the animal he's become.

You will help fix your broken boy.

Protect him.

His shield.

“Cap,” Tony’s voice is cold and stern from the doorway. His lips leave yours, blue eyes staring down at you mischievously at being caught. The next words fall from Stark’s lips and you watch as the realization crosses Steve’s rugged features.

The familiarity of you the first day in the SUV.

Fury assigning you to him.

It all made sense.

After all, Howard had admired Steve Rogers.

“Get your fucking hands off my sister.”

[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 -

[elenamiria]

Boyfriend

Javier Peña x Reader You have the hots for Javier, not that you’re planning on telling him that. After a mission gone wrong things heat up between you two. Though it is unclear to the both of you what any of this means.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing, Injury (minor), slighty angsty end, fem!reader, Smut - unprotected sex, car sex, creampie Read  Part 2   &   Part 3  Here Based on the song Boyfriend by Ariana Grande and Social House

I’d say this is an idiots to lovers situation, only they’re doing it while still being idiots. I’d like to blame this entirely on @absurdthirst​ and @corrupt-fvcker​ without whom I’d never discovered how absolutely h*rny for Pedro I am. Go check out their stuff if you haven’t, you will not be sorry (it’s all absolutely amazing). I hope you all enjoy! Tags (tagging my normal peeps but if this isn’t your jam since it’s not star wars feel free to ignore!): @fishswimbetterunderwater​ @blxwjobsforclones​ @lynnie51​ (If you’d like to be added to the taglist, for this work or all works, just let me know in either a comment, message or ask!)

The first time you and Javier Peña fucked was after a rather intense chase. You had been tailing a sicario, figuring out of your trio you’d be the most inconspicuous, however something spooked him and he took off. You weren’t about to let him slip through your fingers so naturally you sprinted after him as Steve and Javier jumped out of the car parked a little ways away, Carrillo’s men following out of another car. Javier had shouted your name but you were quick on your feet leaving them to run after you, splitting up to cover more ground. Javi found you just in time to witness you getting pistol whipped hard enough to send you to the ground.

In an instant his gun was trained on the asshole that had hit you but in a smart move the sicario took off again. Swearing Javier debated his choices before running to you and gently pulling you up. You were clutching your temple, having sensed the blow coming you moved defensively so luckily your face was spared but he had landed a solid hit right above your ear. You looked up at him, eyes blurry with involuntary tears in your eyes, and instead thanking him or saying anything nice you hissed out, “What the fuck are you doing?! Go after him!”

There was a moment of silence where he stared at you like you were stupid and you muttered “I’m fine! Just go!”

At this Javier scoffed before moving to shove you up against the brick wall behind you, a whine leaving your mouth at his harsh treatment as an annoyed exhale left his mouth. “You’re fine? What the fuck do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up? You were a few seconds away from a bullet in your head and you’re telling me that you’re fine? What were you thinking, why didn’t you wait for us?”

Javier continued his lecture but as you stared at him it faded into the background, your eyes floating up to his messed hair before trailing down to his eyes filled with anger - but behind that something else; and finally, your eyes settled on his mouth. That mouth that you had secretly thought of kissing since you got to Colombia, from the moment you started working with Steve and Javi you found had a thing for the latter, he was hot and so charismatic, not that you’d ever inflate his ego by telling him. Focusing back on your current predicament you realized the man was still talking, maybe you got hit harder than you thought. As he kept talking you knew he was right but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear him ranting any more. So you did the only thing you could think of to shut him up, kiss him.

Javi froze the moment your lips touched his, though it didn’t take long before he responded fervently. His hands pulled you closer, one on the side of your head that hadn’t gotten hit and the other grasping your low hip. This kiss grew heated almost immediately. Your tongues battled for dominance, a fight he won as his hand slipped to squeeze your ass. A moan slipped out of your mouth as you hiked your leg up to grind into him and he trailed his mouth down your throat.

The two of you were stopped before things could go any further by the crackle of Javi’s radio coming to life and Steve’s voice echoing out to let you know that he got the sicario. Javier pulled away, leaving you to collect yourself, responding that he was with you and for Steve to head back with Carillo’s men. He was going to take you to a clinic first to make sure you were actually ok. Rolling your eyes you pushed off the wall muttering that you didn’t need to go to a clinic. Javier sent you an sharp look as he gently grasped your chin, tilting your head to look at your injury - when he gently touched it your sharp inhale and the blood on his fingers was enough for you to know that you would in fact be going to a clinic.

After the clinic the car ride to the station was tense, the silence that stretched between the two of you near unbearable. You at one point turned to him to break the silence but he looked so deep in thought you figured it best not to bother him and settled back into your seat. About halfway back Javier pulled over suddenly, shutting the car off. Turning to him confused he faced you seconds later asking, “Why did you kiss me?”

You stared back at him debating what to say. You could tell him the truth that you maybe liked him but you weren’t convinced that he wouldn’t go running for the hills, which was the last thing you wanted. So, instead you went with, “I don’t know I wanted you to stop lecturing me, it wasn’t anything.”

You regretted your words immediately as his face flashed with what looked like hurt. So you quickly added, “not that I wouldn’t mind doing it again...” not wanting to wreck any chance you had before anything could even happen.

Javi stared at you for a moment longer, jaw clenching, before a low guttural growl left his throat and suddenly your lips were connected again. Just as it had before the kiss burned hot, fireworks shooting off in your head, but you pulled back. Javier’s confused face lit up in understanding as you frantically tore off your seat belt and he followed suit. You clambered out of your seat to straddle Javier, it wasn’t the most comfortable position but you hardly cared when you could feel his hardening cock through your quickly dampening panties. Suddenly grateful that you had chosen to wear a dress to blend in instead of your usual business attire. You resumed your passionate kiss as you swiveled your hips against his, grinding down on his noticeable bulge. His hands trailed up to grope at your breasts and at your breathy moans Javi pulled away, panting slightly. His beautiful brown eyes met yours, both pairs swirling with lust, and he turned his attention to your neck as he groaned out, “Cariño, please let me fuck you, please.”

You enthusiastically replied ‘please, Javi yes!’, your hands flying to his jeans rapidly undoing his belt you lifted your hips slightly so you could free his hard cock. As he sprung free you pumped his length a few times, moaning when you felt how long and thick he was, and with your thumb spread precum around his tip. Javier groaned, his hand came down to rub at your clit over your underwear, a growl leaving his throat as he felt your soaked slit through the flimsy material.

“So wet for me cariño” he purred against your lips, mustache tickling slightly but you were distracted by him tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. Whining you kissed him hard before pushing his hand away so you could pull your panties to the side, exposing your dripping pussy. As you lined him up, teasingly rubbing against his tip, he grabbed your waist and broke apart from your heated kiss. As he started to ask you if you were sure you sank down onto his cock. Both of you moaned in sync as your velvet walls enclosed his length. He was just the right size to stretch you pleasantly and your hips pressed firmly against his as he bottomed out in you.

Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut, at the feeling of being so deliciously filled. Javi took a second to regain his breath as the tight grip your walls had around his throbbing cock made him want to pound up into you until you came more times than you could count and you begged him to stop. He swore he had never fucked anyone who felt like they’d were made for him, yet here you were fitting him like a glove. Tentatively he shifted his hips and when you moaned beautifully his hand came to tightly grip your hips. Leaning forward slightly you pressed your hands on his shoulders and started to raise your hips up and down. The feeling of Javier’s cock sliding in and out of your tight little hole caused more slickness to leak out of you, coating him on each stroke.

Javi started bucking up into you, using his hands to raise you and slam you onto his cock every time his hips raised. You were so wet he bounced you on his lap easily, moans flowing freely from your mouth as pleasure shot through your whole body, his attention was drawn to your chest as your tits shook with every move. His head swung down to mouth at them over your dress, gently nipping whenever he caught your hardened nipple through your bra. One of your hands moved to finger at your clit desperately but your hand was quickly batted away and replaced by Javier’s skilled fingers. As he pressed and swirled around your clit you could feel your climax rapidly approaching, pleasure causing you to grip his shoulders tightly - nails digging in.

You moaned his name out desperately and sensing you were close his other hand slid around to hold your lower back as he adjusted so he could lift his hips up slightly. From this angle he truly took control fucking into you with a greater ferocity, obscene noises filled the car as your drenched cunt was absolutely ravaged. All you could do was hold on as Javier fucked you like his life depended on it, you had never been fucked like this before where the only thoughts in your head were of his cock and how it felt pounding into you. His fingers pinched at your clit at the same time as he sucked on a soft spot on your neck and you came undone. Your walls clenched him like a vice and a wild scream of ‘Oh, Javi, fuck!’ left your mouth as your face morphed in pleasure.

He continued to work you through your orgasm as he desperately chased his own release. As you came back to earth you brought your face to his kissing him passionately. As your tongues tangled your hands slid into his hair tugging slightly. He moaned into your mouth and slid back into the seat allowing you to take slight control. You continued to bounce on his rigid length then as you slid his length in you and your hips met his you changed it up rocking back and forth while keeping his cock seated deep within you. You nipped at his neck before tugging at his earlobe with your teeth, whispering, “Cum for me Javi. I want you to cum inside me, please give it to me Javier”

You felt his jaw clench against your neck as his hands flew to pull you as close as possible. One hand spanning over your back and burying in the hair at the back of your head and the other around your waist to keep you firmly pressed onto his cock. His hips bucked once, twice and then his cum was painting your walls, his breath stuttered as his hips weakly ground against yours while he spurted into you. You couldn’t help the broken moan that escaped your lips as you felt him fill your cunt, walls clenching around him as your hips twitched against his as he rode out his orgasm.

You nuzzled into his neck as he held you and you slowly nipped up his neck until you could place a sweet kiss at the corner of his lips. He groaned, eyes closed and his head tilted back, at his blissed our expression you couldn’t help but let a dopey smile cross your face until it was wiped clean off at his words. After a deep exhale he stated, “We should get back before Steve starts to worry.”

You fixed your face into cold neutrality before he opened his eyes, though you couldn’t deny the harsh sting of his words but why had you expected any different when you had just told him that your shared kiss didn’t mean anything. You clambered off him and back into your seat as quickly as possible, adjusting your panties to cover you again and hoping his cum wouldn’t leak out Into the car. Javi adjusted himself and looked at you with a soft expression but just like you had adjusted his face to his typical neutral expression as he restarted the car, thankful that the road you two were parked on was deserted. Awkwardly clearing his throat he started the drive back to the station, knuckles white from his tight grip on the wheel wondering if he had royally fucked up with you. You stared out the window for the rest of the ride leaving Javier to assume you had just wanted a quick fuck and nothing more, though he couldn’t help the glances he sent your way hoping you would look at him just once - anything to assure him that this meant something to you.

When you got to the station and got out of the car you could feel your mixed cum leaking out of your thoroughly fucked pussy, exhaling you hoped it wasn’t obvious how wobbly your legs were feeling. If Steve noticed the obvious awkward air between you and Javi he didn’t say anything. And you told yourself that you would forget about it, even though every time you thought of his words your heart sank, after all it wasn’t like Javier was your boyfriend.

[angstysebfan]

Laser-Like Focus - Chapter 4

Pairing:  Bucky x reader

Summary: You met Bucky while working with the Avengers. You fell in love and got married. One thing you had in common was to kill all members of HYDRA. Bucky for his known reasons, and you because they killed your parents in front of you when you were a little girl. Soon your focus on HYDRA pulled you and Bucky apart. He decided to leave the Avengers and after a long separation, sent you divorce papers. He comes back to get the signed papers, as he is about to get married again. But everything with you and Buck is an adventure.

You ride in one truck with some of your team, and Bucky made sure to ride in the separate truck. You know it was to show you that even though he was here, it was not for you. You know you can’t blame him, but you would be lying if you didn’t say it stung. 

You made it to a meet up location just outside the buildings. You started sprouting out orders to everyone, planning on going in alone to check out the building and having everyone else on the perimeter. Bucky interrupted you, “I’m going in,” he says. You look at him for a moment, “Barnes, I think it’s better if only 1 person goes in,” you say.

He shrugs, “Then stay out here, but I’m going in,” he says. You roll your eyes and look at the rest of the team, “Man the perimeter, Barnes and I are going in. Keep your comms on channel 2,” you say as you all adjusted your comms. You turned and looked at Bucky and gave him a nod, before heading toward the building.

You both walk in, guns drawn, just in case there was anyone here. You watch each others back and keep moving through the lower level of the building. It felt like old times, the nostalgia killing you. After you checked the first floor you moved up. Once the 2nd and 3rd floor were clear you headed back down. 

“I told you there was no one here,” you said as you strapped your gun back into it’s holster. Bucky looked around the room and saw the wall falling away on 1 side. he walked over and pushed, and found a hidden door. “Then why is there a hidden door? he asked with a smirk. You walked up to him, looking at the door in awe and then shot him a smirk, “After you Special Agent Barnes,” you said. 

Bucky nodded and walked in, as you quickly drew your gun again and walked in behind him. As soon as you got past the door, it slammed shut behind you and the small room you were in started to fill with mud and water. Bucky ran back to the door and started punching it with his metal arm, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Anyone hear me? Barnes and I are trapped in a trap room on the first floor. Can anyone hear me?” you call on the comms with no answer. You look at Bucky with fear in your eyes, “They must have something around the walls to block the signal,” you say. Bucky continues to pound on the door with his metal arm, as you look around to see if there is another place you can get out.

You quickly point your gun at the door, but Bucky stops you, “If it ricochets, we could die,” he says. You look at him like he is crazy, “Well it looks like we are going to die anyway,” you say, trying to stay calm. You try the comms again, but no answer. The muddy water is now up to your waist, “This was a great idea,” you say. Bucky looks at you, “I am going to get you out of here, you hear me? I will,” he says.

You look into his eyes and see truth, and something else. Something you haven’t seen in a long time. You shake it away, knowing he couldn’t be looking at you more then his soon to be ex-wife. He has someone else now. Someone else to love, and it’s your fault. You look at him again, “Bucky, I... I just want to say I’m sorry,” you say.

Bucky looks at you, as the water continues to rise now to your shoulders, “Y/N, keep you apologizes. You are getting out of here,” he says. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to keep the water away from your mouth. Bucky gives you a small smile, “It’s fine, Doll. Don’t...”

Bucky was interrupted by banging against the door. He pulled you into his arms, away from the door, and it was finally kicked in by Steve. All the water and mud spilled out of the room, along with you and Bucky. “Buck, Y/N, are you guys ok?” Steve asks helping you both off the floor. “Yea, thanks Steve. How did you know where we were? The comms were down,” you ask.

“When I didn’t hear from you I came in to make sure, then I saw water over here and noticed the wall looked weird. I heard Bucky trying to punch out. Looks like it was a trap,” he says. You give him a smile and pat on the shoulder, “Thanks, you’re a life saver,” you say. You look at Bucky and give him a small smile, “You too, Buck. Thanks,” you say before walking away.

Steve looks at Bucky, who watches you leave the building. “What happened in there?” Steve asked. Bucky looked at him, “Nothing. She thought she was going to die and felt like apologizing for stuff. I’m sure it was just in the heat of the moment,” Bucky says before heading back.

--

The ride back to the command center was quiet. Everyone knew you were brooding over the whole situation, and it was better to leave you alone when that happened. When you got back you jumped out of the truck in time to see Melissa screaming for Bucky and running into his arms.

“Bucky! What happened to you?” she said as tears fell from her eyes. Bucky hugs her, “It’s ok sweetheart, we were perfectly safe. Are you alright?” he asks. She nods and leans up to kiss him. It was a passionate kiss, filled with worry and love. You can’t help but turn away and walk back over to the plans. A stray tear escapes your eye, but you are quick to wipe it away before anyone sees.

Bucky walks over to you, with Melissa wrapped around his arm. “No need to stay Sergeant Barnes. You’ve fulfilled your promise. No one can say anything about you,” you say emotionless. Bucky furrows his brow, “I told you I would stay the day, not 1 bad mission,” he says. You look at him and makes sure you face is completely void of emotion and your eyes cold, “Whatever you wish to do. Just saying you can get out of this if you want,” you say before grabbing a file and walking away.

Bucky watched you leave, and hated that he felt concerned. Why does he still care what is going on with you? Oh yea... because no matter how many times he lies to himself, he still loves you. But he loves Melissa, and maybe he should leave and make sure Melissa is safe. He barely has time to make a decision when a bomb goes off right in the area you just walked to.

Bucky looks at Melissa, “Baby, stay here. Don’t move unless me or one of the other Avengers tell you to, you hear me?” he asks. Melissa, whose eyes are huge just nods, not trusting her voice. Bucky turns and runs in that direction. He needs to see you. He needs to know if you’re ok. As he runs into the crowd of agents, he sees you running away from him and the crowd.

“Y/N!” he yells before another explosion goes off, again right in the area he saw you run. 

--

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

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