#so when its the other way around and your father is a good person who doesnt like his kids it just smack you like a brick

[another-faceless-girl]

just started watching Arcane and like - i know silco isnt a good guy but it just like hes everything my father isnt protective and caring (in his own way ig) and like i know my father would never dream of doing anything like that and the whole theme of parenthood being the one thing that breaks everyone is (maybe) true i know my father would never and it just hurts cause these arent good people and on paper my father is better than them but he really isnt. he really really isnt

[femmefaggot]

wahhhhhh

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 4

"THOSE FUCKING BITCHES SAM!" Danny shouted as he stormed into his apartment, slinging his backpack off by the door as he toes his shoes off.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Danny was met with Tucker, shirtless with only a pair of plaid boxers on, staring at him with sleep glazed eyes, he had a box of cereal in one hand, and a bottle of oat milk in the other, raising the bottle in a salute, Tucker stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth before taking a swig of the milk, holding up a hand to stop Danny from speaking as he chewed, only letting his hand fall before he spoke.

"What?"

"The Bats are fucking assholes!"

Tucker looked back at the bottle of oat milk, sighed and placed it back in the refrigerator, chucking the box of cereal on the counter, Tucker grabbed Danny by the shoulders.

"Of course they are Jerks Danny..." his grip tightened as he started to shake the Halfa, "I have ten deadlines and 5 missed calls, I really want to geek out right now about you meeting the local heroes but I really don't have the time, so yes, jerks, tell me about it later okay?"

Danny phased through the tough grip on his shoulders, letting out a giggle as he watched Tucker fumble as he no longer had someone to help steady himself, "I did yell specifically for Sam, Tuck so you can't get mad at me! Go huant the Wanyetech building, I know for sure those dudes are way more dead inside than I am!"

Getting a groan from his friend at his dead pun, Danny continued into the apartment, snatching Tuckers cereal box off the counter as he went to sit in the living room.

Spotting Sam typing something on a lap top, her big over the ear headphones blaring as he flops down next to her, which thankfully was enough for her to notice him.

Offering g the box of cereal to her, she sent him a tired smile as she slipped the head phones off and took some of the fruit flavored rings, "Hey there Deadstuff...how was work?"

Danny sent her a grin, "Well, Clocky decided to throw me a bone and I think I got this? He is a little bitch boy that sends me all over the place but this time it was a dined, Lunch Lady taught me how to cook." Pasuing to stuff a new handful of tasty fruity goodness, Danny spoke around the cereal in his mouth "Cookin' ish so much more cool when da food isn't trying to kill you"

Slapping Danny's arm as she rolled her "Don't eat with your mind full and tell me what got you so riled up" Sliding her laptop of her self she tucked her knees up before stretching them out over Danny, who was already going off on his story.

"Wait wait! You had Nightwing in you're restaurant and you didn't get me an autograph?" Same shot Danny a scowl, who at least had the decency to look sorry

"I was going to but they fucking dined and dashed Sam! Even when I was actively Phantom, I never, ever just left a bill!"

---

Dick knew that perhaps eating the food was a slightly bad idea, given the look B gave them when him and Tim pulled into the Cave.

He was standing there, arms crossed, thankfully cowl down, what made the sight infinitely less intimidating was Damian doing the same next to him, his head tilted to look down at them and perhaps standing on his tittpy toes a little bit.

Dick wanted to coo at the father son bonding, but remembered he had to act at least a little chastised at the moment "Yes I am sorry B, It was my decision to head in, there was no outward danger so we just took a chance."

Wincing at the gruff grunt he got from that Dick powered on, "I will write a more detailed report, but personally if anything wrong it's likely that the kid working there is Meta? I dont-"

"He can't be meta! He is very clearly a ghost Dick!" Tim interrupted already flipping through some notes he had made on the way back home, "its the only explanation...or he is a 5th dimensional Imp with a passion for cooking but I really hope not those guys suck to deal with..."

Dick nodded at that, but had to say some thing foe his own superfan imp "Nightmite is a chill dude helps sometimes with cases back in Bludhaven!"

Giving a sigh, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No mites, no metas, no ghost, go to Medbay I am running blood tests on what sweet hell you have ingested."

---

Bruce ran the test again, sure that it was wrong, praying that it was wrong.

TEST COMPLETE

TRACE LAZARUS WATERS DETECTED

Underneath was lists of chemical make ups of the samples Tim took and his sons blood, there were varying levels through out the food samples, some lighter but others were heavy on it.

What was stumping him was...it was nearly perfectly pure, the pits naturally over time get polluted, with the dirt and sediment that falls in, and with the various amounts of bodily parts and fluids that are dipped in it.

But the trace amounts Bruce was finding were a better quality than Ra's own personal pool, not the one he dips in to regain his youth that the LOA make a ritual out of, no the privet one in the Alps that was clear as glacial water.

It didn't make any sense to Bruce, who would be spreading Lazarus water around? Ra's would not simply share his secret pure stash...

Lost in thought, Bruce sat back glaring at the test results.

---

"And after I thought I was giving great service, they fucking left, no bill, no tip! I didn't even get to see Nightwings ass as he left! People say it's a godly experience! I was robbed!" Letting out a huff Danny shot Sam an incredulous look at her sudden burst of laughter. "Sa~am, this isn't funny! Never meet your heroes! I am taking this to Twitter! They shall know my fury!" His words only served to make Sam laugh even harder.

Stifling a grin Danny took out hos phone, a old busted thing that was more ducktape and prayers than actual technology, but dear go's did it still work.

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@.realwing @not-that-red-robin.real yall are toxic twinks came in to my workplace and fucking dined and dashed 0/10 Nightwing has a flat ass.]

Hitting send, Danny put his phone down, choosing to let the nights happenings go past his mind and just hang out with Sam before showering and finally going to bed.

---

Tim was hunched over his lap top, going frame by frame of his body cam footage, he *needed* to figure this out, it was like an itch in his brain that he would go through bone to get through.

His work payed off as he clicked forward another time, his feed went static before it showed a blurry blue blob in place of the diner! Proof! It was there!

Jumping at the sudden bang of his bedroom door being thrown open, Tim whirled to around to see Dicks distressed face, standing up, Tim prepared for the worst, something happened. Bruce was dead agian it had to be-

"TIMMY I AM A TWINK AM I??" Was Dicks wail as he flopped down on Tim's bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tim looked longingly at his laptop before closing it, "Dick, what the fuck."

Rolling around on the bed, Dick finally looked up at Tim "Littlewing sent me a tweet and...ugh just look!" Thrusting out his phone as he spoke

Pasuing at the mention of Jason, Tim  looked down at the screen and froze

"Holy shit...we forgot to pay didn't we...fuck Jason is never going to let us live that down."

Tim still remembered the first time he witnessed one of Jason's famous "make Bruce spend more money" rants about tipping.

It was glorious.

Tim now realized he would be one of two that was likely going to have to face it next.

"UGH?? You focus on the money and not the other parts? Tim I was called a toxic twink with no ass! This is a declaration of war! I have never been so offended!" Dick sat up, eyes narrowd while Tim opened up the tweet on his own phone.

"The comments agree Dick, I am sorry, you now have a flat ass congrats and welcome to the club" Tim said dryly, trying to go to the posters page, since it was clearly Danny who posted it.

Only the app crashed when he tried to. And again when he tried to a second time, and his web browser crashed when he tried opening it there

Tim was baffled on what was happening while Dick lemented on his bed before deciding to hack it later.

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween super sorry about that send me venmo and I'll pay with tip]

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@not-that-red-robin.real Fuck that face me like a coward bitch bet you wont]

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween...bet]

---

Somewhere in a safe house in Crime Ally, Jason let out a little giggled as he scrolled through the comments on the funniest post he had found in a while, Jason was surely going to have to speak to Timberly and Dickiebird about paying their bills but right now?

He was kicking his feet watching Dick have a public meltdown as Nightwing.

Finally, he wouldn't be the only one who had to retake the Bat Media course.

How was he supposed to know doing peace signs next to a person he just shot wasn't allowed?

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"It's priced reasonably..."

Preview: The boys' reactions to you buying things on impulse/on a discount! (Let's be fair, we all know they are all rich af, but I personally wanna give it a slice of life touch for them <3)

SYLUS

The big man you call your boyfriend stares at you when you stepped in through the front door with multiple bags loaded in your small palms. You had told him earlier on that you were going for window shopping and he was all too kind to give you his card and to ask you to use whenever you seem fit. However, coming over a huge discount on groceries are rare hence you had decided to use it as you 'deem it fit'. Sylus did noticed his phone's notifications going off a couple of times to alert him about transactions made on his card.

Instead of him looking at it, he would just mute the notifications and continue his humming while he seats himself comfortably on the couch and watches the news broadcast. "You had fun shopping, kitten?" He smirked, walking over to you to help you with the bags. "Next time, bring me along. I would like to see how my kitten makes good use of my card." Yet, you apologised for having to use his card when you told him you were supposedly going for window shopping but the man laughed in response, finding your apology to be adorable. "No more apologies kitten for I am not a stingy man."

RAFAYEL

Whilst on a shopping trip with Rafayel, this man would splurge on you. Apparently in this case, he would take up the role of the impulsive buyer rather than you. You eyeing something for more than 3 seconds? Considered it bought. You mentioning about something more than 3 times? Considered it purchased. You imagining something that may look good on him? Considered it a done deal. This man has no fear nor worry of ever going bankrupt as long as you're satisfied.

Staring at the huge lorry outside of his mansion, unloading everything you had mentioned would definitely put you in a state of shocked. Your boyfriend would approach you casually, wrapping his arm around your waist and nuzzling his nose against your neck. You would definitely question him on his purchasing behaviour but he would pout. "Gift giving and impulse buying goes hand in hand, and I do not see the reason why I should not be spoiling my cutie." Seeing you smile, he would continue. "It is just one of the ways I can show you that I love you, so don't hold me back on that, yeah?"

XAVIER

Grocery shopping with Xavier would be like going on a hunt for rare breeds of wanderers. Anything that are on discount would not be missed, especially with both of your sharp eyesights. However, you and Xavier are not known to be impulsive buyers. More like calculative buyers, the both of you seemingly carry a bit of a girl math's mentality. Other than necessities, anything that is supplemental to the house would be assessed for its usability and longevity. It is a perk the both of you would sometimes fight or bond over.

But if the discount is worth the product, then none of you would get it on the spot. You would have your moments where you would get something out of the blue, without running through your usual girl-math calculations, and you would be met with the quirk of an eyebrow from your boyfriend. "I suppose we lack this in our house." He would secretly do the math in his head but would never say anything to intentionally make you feel bad. "Yeah, we can make this work, no worries." Then, he would pull the same stunt as you, showing you something that he had got out of the blue as well.

ZAYNE

You would give Zayne a headache sometimes. Your childlike curiousity for interesting and new items would prompt Zayne to take on the role of a father figure. He might sometimes go as far as to suspect you may have a slight hint of ADHD in your system, but other than a slight migraine, he finds the quirk in you to be specifically unique to you. And, he never complains. Being the gentleman he is, he accepts you for who you are and tries to work his way around you whenever he could manage.

"Do you think you really need that?" He would point at the stuffed toys you are holding in your arms. Your point being all of them are begging you to adopt them with their big googly eyes. "Y/n, you might just have to pick one for adoption." Your slack-jawed expression would make him sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose slightly before he serves you a reminder of the consequences for your behaviour. "You had adopted exactly 36 plushies, and now, only 5 of them are actually adopted on your bed, while the rest of them are abandoned in your closet. So y/n, which one do you plan to ACTUALLY adopt now hmm?"

[foreveradreamaway]

helmets and hats- MV33/1

summary- the stress his father put on him never left his head, and neither does his helmet. only until you turn up with his lucky cap.

yes i know max won 2021, this is for the plot don’t come for me

Abu Dhabi 2021. the ride or die race for max and lewis. both of them just one race away from being the world champion. this was one of the biggest races of maxs life. this was what he had been waiting for his whole life. everything his father had put him through was for this. he could not mess this up.

but he did.

you stood in the room with all the engineers and important people who help to ensure maxs car runs perfectly throughout the entire race. you knew how much pressure max had been putting on himself in the weeks leading up to the race. spending 10 times more time at the race simulator and even more time working his body tirelessly to make sure it was race ready. you had watched hopelessly when he would do this many times before and knew this was just how he works. no protest from you will stop him, only make him work harder. he will come to you whenever he needs that little bit of comfort and reassurance, or even just a quick kiss to keep him motivated.

it was your favourite thing. knowing that he still needed you. he could be so deep in his own mind and would still seek you out. only you. he relied on you. for some things more than others, but he still did and you both knew it. he didn't always admit it, or want to, but you both knew. you were his main source of comfort and he couldn't go a day without it. he needed you in every sense of the word. he needed your love, he needed you there to remind him to pack enough socks when he goes away, he needed you to look after him when he was ill and most importantly he needed you there for the losses.

your heart drops when they cross the finish line, further than its ever dropped before. he wanted this so bad, needed it even. he had never lost a race this big before. but you were prepared, you would do the exact same as you did every other loss.

your feet carry you over to the intern whos specific job was to hold maxs hat. it was a very important hat and needed a whole person for it. you had had many interactions with the intern, retrieving his hat every time he lost. she gave you a knowing smile as you took the hat from her hands and went to meet max at you're usual spot.

he doesn't look at anyone as he exits the car and storms off. he physically cant. he doesn't even remove his helmet as he walks over to you, something you were already prepared for. his head is hung low as he approaches you, your hand immediately finding his shoulder. his feet stop in place, keeping his head down. the visor of his helmet was still all the way down so you couldn't make out the expression on his face.

he doesn't say anything as he places his hand softly over yours that sits on his shoulder. you knew not to push him at a time like this, letting him take your comfort when he needs. you stayed like that until you felt a sob rake his body. immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms stayed at his side as you just held him. it wasn't often that he cried, but when he did, he did.

you weren't sure how long you stood there until his hands found your hips. you took this as your sign to move both your hands to his shoulders, finally speaking the words on your mind.

"you did so good baby" your hands moved to the sides of his helmet, attempting to lift it over his head but his hands quickly grabbed yours and brought them down in between the two of you. your face scrunching in compassion. lots of people knew what his father was like when max was younger, you more than most. the constant badgering and abuse never left his head, sticking with him throughout his life. as much as you comforted him and told him how proud you were of him, he always did the same thing after his losses. refusing to take his helmet off.

instead, you move to lift his visor up, catching a quick glimpse of his tear stained cheeks. you didn't see them for long before he quickly swiped it back down to cover his face again. your hand, once again, went back to swipe it up. his hand repeating his previous actions. smiles appeared on both your faces as you both kept up the act. his hand returning to yours when he heard a giggle escape your lips, allowing the visor to stay up. your laugh was his drug.

your head tilted to the side when you finally got to look at him. his cheeks slightly squished from the sides of his helmet and those slightly red eyes staring back at you, full of emotion.

"let me take your helmet off max" you whispered. his eyes shut as he shook his head, dropping it down again. you rested you forehead against the helmet in front of you. hands still gripping each others.

"you're safe baby, ive got you. its just me and you here." his head still didn't rise until you pressed a kiss to the top of his helmet. "im sorry" he croaked. your arms wrapped back around his neck to provide the comfort he desperately needed in that moment. the front of his helmet rested on your shoulder causing your head to tilt to the side, when it did you caught a glimpse of his oh so special hat.

you let go of one of maxs hands and leaned slightly to be able to grab the hat. as you did max slowly lifted his head up to see what you were doing and caught you with the hat in hand. a small smile appeared on his face when he noticed. it was always the small things that he loved about you. the fact that you noticed all the little things that comforted him made him feel so seen and loved in a way that he never had before.

you made eye contact with max and he gave you a small nod, approval to remove his helmet. your hands reached up to the sides of his head and slowly lifted it off. you placed it on the table where the hat had previously sat and moved back in front of max. one hand going to the back of his neck to carefully remove his under layer. you had never seen his face look sadder.

he closed his eyes and moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. this time you could feel the tears that were coming from his eyes. your heart breaking even more with every tear that fell.

"im so proud of you max" you whispered gently in his ear.

"i did so bad, schatje baby" his voice could barely be heard as he just felt too weak from everything. his body was filled with emotions that he didn't even know existed. the disappointment he felt was sickening and he didn't quite know how to deal with these feelings. the only thing he could do was cry in your arms.

"no way you didn't, you drove so well my love. that race was yours, it was a split second thing. there was nothing more you could have done. ive never been more proud of you than i am now max, everyone is so proud of you" you always tried your hardest to comfort him after a loss but he was stubborn and rarely actually took in what you said.

"not my dad" his voice was low, as if he didn't even want you to hear what he said. but you did. his father always loomed in the back of his mind no matter what he was doing. his fathers voice booming through his brain.

"he isn't here, no one else matters but me and you right now. im proud of you and thats all that matters. you've given this season your all, trust me i would know" a soft smile fell on your lips, max couldn't help but stare at your mouth as you talked. "you've spent countless hours in that bloody gym at home and did everything you could to make sure the best max was out on them tracks this season. i promise you max so many people will believe that you won this race and are standing behind you" his face had seemed to calm down a little now. his eyebrows no longer scrunched and his frown was slowly become flat.

his eye fell to the hat that was in your hand, your eyes doing the same. your smile got bigger as you knew what he wanted. you quickly secured the hat on its rightful place on maxs head. hats had slowly become a comfort for max. you would hardly ever see him without one, especially on race weekends. it became a shield between him and the scary eyes of the world. all he needed to do was tilt his head slightly down and he was alone and away from the chaos.

he quickly secured his lips to yours as his hands found the sides of your neck. your hands grabbing his wrists. he needed one final reassurance from you before he had to face the horrible questions of the media.

"go do what you need to do baby, call me and ill come find you. remember, im so proud of you." you placed a final kiss to his nose and cheek before he grabbed his helmet and began to make his way out the room. "you'll always be my champion max verstappen" you winked before he disappeared out the room.

he was a champion, he didnt need a trophy to prove it.

i hope you enjoyed my first max fic, many more to come. please send me requests i love hearing them

[yaksha-lover]

Someone New

Summary: Travelling worlds has its side effects; namely, having visions of multiple timelines. As you get closer to the housewardens after their overblots, you begin to see the possible future that awaits the two of you, if only you decide to choose them.

Overblot gang x Reader (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

GN but mentions of biological children - imagine anything you want though (magic spells that make anything possible!)

i. blooms of red and bursts of reason; riddle rosehearts

Even after knowing him for months, you don’t touch Riddle until long after his overblot. He isn’t truly comfortable with you, with anyone, touching him so casually.

The chill of autumn ghosts your skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms. When he notices you rubbing your forearms to gather some warmth, Riddle insists on offering you his coat. Something about ‘rule five hundred and nine.’

His ways don’t always make sense to you, but you appreciate the sentiment behind the action. You take his coat, uttering your gratitude to him, although it’s quite small considering his stature. He offers you a small smile; in Riddle’s case, you know that means a lot.

You can’t help but return his smile, the small affection making your heart stir suddenly. It’s nice - spending time alone with Riddle. At the beginning of the year, you’d never have imagined becoming close with him. It was hard to see past the strict housewarden who never let anything go.

You think he’d made assumptions about you too. About you being a troublemaker, someone not worth his time, just another problem. You’re thankful you’ve both come around.

You stare at him from the corner of your eye as you walk together. He truly is gentle at heart, despite what his temper might suggest. His red hair sits perfectly on his head, cutely framing his face. It makes you think of his mother; his hair is perhaps the only good thing she passed onto him.

You snap out of your thoughts when you step a little too hard into a puddle and accidentally splash your pants, slightly dirtying them. Riddle turns when he hears your grumble, and you prepare yourself for a scolding. You won’t hold it against him; it was your fault for being careless.

Instead, Riddle only shakes his head gently, before asking if you’d like to stop at Ramshackle to change before you two arrive at the library.

Your surprise forces you to take a moment and just look at him. So far he’s come from the person he was only a couple months ago. You feel strangely sentimental, so you reach out to touch his shoulder, intending to thank him.

As soon as you make contact with him, the world around you shifts, brown and orange leaves being traded for the bright green of spring.

-

You sit under a pagoda tree, the wind gently blowing the pages of your novel. It’s strange - you’re seeing things as yourself, but you’re not in control. It’s as though you’re replaying the memory of someone else. At the sound of someone’s voice, ‘you’ look up. It’s there that you spot familiar red hair; it forms a stark contrast to the vegetation around you.

He’s not alone, either. In Riddle’s arms is a small baby, with identical hair to who you presume is his father. It’s a striking image - Riddle with his child. He’s noticeably older; if you had to guess, he seems to be in his late twenties.

“MC? Sorry to bother, but he’s been refusing to eat today. I checked our parenting books thrice, but I haven’t found any suitable solutions. I thought you might know how to help him.”

“That’s okay,” you hear your voice say. “How is our little guy doing?”

Riddle passes the baby to you, and you finally take notice of his other features; this child has the same colour eyes as you, and a similarly shaped nose.

You then catch a glimpse of the ring sparking on your left hand, and the other on Riddle’s.

“Hmm,” you’re vision-self says. “Let’s go back home, I’ll try to see what’s bothering him.”

“Alright, dear. I’ll start on dinner,” older-Riddle replies.

He takes your hand and helps you up, before you walk back toward the house in the distance, your hand still in his.

-

When the greens turn to orange, you blink, finding Riddle looking at you. You’re back at NRC.

“Are you alright, prefect? You seem distracted.”

“I’m okay, Riddle. I just…never mind. Let’s get going.”

You decide not to tell him about your strange…Dream? Vision? It all seemed so real…you could smell the tree sap and feel the breeze flow against your skin. You held a baby. Your baby…with Riddle? The two of you were older, but would it really be possible for it to truly be your future? That seemed ridiculous. Then again, you thought the same thing about magic a few months ago.

You resolve to keep this strange occurrence to yourself until you can figure out what happened. It’s hard to look at Riddle, having now seen the two of you married and with a child together. You’re more flustered than usual. Was this just some kind of daydream projection of your fantasies about him? You weren’t even really sure you could say you have a ‘crush’ on him - after all, you’ve only recently begun getting close. Not that you haven’t thought of him that way at all but-

You’re sure Riddle takes notice of your strange behaviour throughout your study session but, thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it.

ii. dizzying dreams and endless nights; leona kingscholar

You’d fought Leona hard to get where you are now - on the left side of his bed, with Grim sleeping at the base. You’re exhausted with everything going on with Azul (hopefully) temporarily taking your dorm, but it’s hard to sleep with how worried you are about the situation.

Leona’s room is dim, moonlight cascading over the silk sheets. You can barely make out his form, curled up in the blankets and turned away from you.

You don’t want to disturb the sleeping lion, but he happens to be hogging the entire blanket. You suppose you should’ve known, but it wasn’t as though you had time to take anything from Ramshackle.

When the chill becomes too much to ignore, you try to tug part of the blanket away from him. This causes Leona to roll over, arm suddenly falling around your back.

You’re hit with another wave of blurry vision as the moon melts into the sun.

-

“Morning,” you hear a voice, your voice, say to him. Your tone is playful and lightheartedly chastising. You can feel his arms wrapped snuggly around you.

It’s happening again, the same as with Riddle. You’re seeing things from your own eyes, but you’re not in control.

A groan comes from behind you, Leona shuffling his position but refusing to open his eyes. His bare legs brush yours under the covers. “Too early. Go back to sleep.” He pulls you closer into his chest.

‘You’ laugh gently, turning around in his arms so you’re now face to face. “You promised the queen we would attend this banquet. Especially after we missed the last one.”

He looks older here too, but as gorgeous as ever. Despite just waking up, Leona’s dark hair falls perfectly around his face. The room is different than his one at school; it’s still a bedroom, but it looks as though you’re back in the castle of Sunset Savanna.

Leona finally opens his eyes, looking at you with a heavy gaze before flipping you below him. His arms hold him straight above you, looking down on you lying prone on the bed. “Hmph.” He leans in close until your lips are only millimetres apart. “We have some time, don’t we?”

You’re left staring into those piercing green eyes, entranced by them being closer than ever.

With that, he leans in completely, lips brushing over your own as he begins to kiss you. The longer it goes, the more ravenous he becomes, more and more greedy for the taste of your lips.

-

When the sunlight fades to moonlight, you’re left embarrassed. That was - so much worse than with Riddle?! Ugh, it’s so awkward with Leona sleeping beside you now, like you’ve violated some kind of rule by thinking of him that way.

You’re too afraid to even consider the possibility of it being some kind of dream. It came on so suddenly, but you hadn’t been asleep. The whole thing seemed so real, too elaborate for a simple dream. No, it had to be more than that - some kind of vision - but how could that be true? And what did that mean about your vision with Riddle? Surely they couldn’t both be correct.

You’d intended on ignoring it before, but with Leona’s vision, that seemed futile. Perhaps the staff would have some answers for you…

iii. seashells shimmer in the forever sea; azul ashengrotto

Azul isn’t one for touching, and this time neither are you. Ever since the Crowley’s theory about alternate universes and rips in time since you’ve travelled worlds, you’ve decided it’s best to stay away from touching too many people. It was…interesting, to see a possible future with Riddle and Leona, but it’s certainly left you ambivalent. It’s a bit difficult not to avoid them when your mind drifts to your ‘visions’ while in their vicinity.

Riddle is kind enough to ignore your sudden shyness, but Leona has openly called you out on how flustered you get around him. He seems both confused and amused about the development, and his smugness is too much to handle sometimes.

Fortunately for you, Leona doesn’t hang around the Mostro Lounge much, making it the perfect place for you to avoid him. You try to force Ace and Deuce to come with you and study there, but the two have been reluctant considering their previous encounters with the twins while trying to get Azul’s picture.

That means you’re left to go alone, sometimes. Well, alone except for Grim. He never leaves you hanging as long as you agree to buy him food. Just like today, where he sits passed out across the other side of the booth, having eaten himself into a food coma.

You try to return to your homework, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Azul staring at you from the staff area. When you make eye contact, he only waves, smile dripped in plasticity. When you don’t clue in, he walks toward your table, eventually taking a seat across from you, beside Grim.

“Hello, Prefect,” he says.

“Azul.”

Unlike Riddle - and even to some extent, Leona - you haven’t really gotten close to Azul after his overblot. He doesn’t exactly want you to, it seems.

“I noticed you’ve been frequenting the Lounge quite frequently as of late - I just wanted to thank you, for being a dedicated patron.”

“I’m not doing it for you, but you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Ah yes, I presumed. So, who are you doing it for?”

Your mind snaps to thoughts of you and Leona in the future, his arms around you in his bed-

“Nothing. No one. Do you need something, Azul?”

Despite your attempt at neutrality, Azul must see something on your face as you attempt to rid your mind of your vision of Leona. He leans in a bit, curious to observe you.

You begin packing up your things, too distracted to continue studying.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says.

“It’s not.”

He stands at the same time as you, presumably planning to head back to his office. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t noticed Grim migrate to his place sleeping on the floor. When you take a step forward and trip, Azul is, tragically, directly in front of you.

Your arms reach out instinctively, but instead of stabilizing yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders, the force of your fall knocks the both of you over.

As soon as you make contact with him, your vision swirls into another world full of beautiful blues.

-

The coral sea is even more breathtaking than you remember. You’ve only been a couple times, but the drastic differences between the land and ocean always manage to stun you. The water is so clear that it practically glitters as you wave your hands through it, feeling the water pass refreshingly across your smooth skin.

You’ve never been to this specific place before (presumably, it doesn’t exist yet), but it’s clear what it is: a restaurant. If the octopus logo has anything to do with it, clearly it’s Azul’s. It wasn’t too surprising to you that he would have more restaurants open in the future, but you weren’t sure what you were doing here. If the pattern followed, it seemed inevitable that you and Azul would be…romantically-involved in this timeline, but that just didn’t seem possible.

At least you had befriended Riddle and Leona to an extent - Azul looked down on your existence as a magicless person, seemingly entirely apathetic about you in general. You had to admit, the feelings were mutual considering his treatment of you and your friends.

You feel ‘yourself’ look around the restaurant, before heading back into the staff area. You knock on the door to an office, and Azul opens it with a smile.

He, too, is older. His face has matured a bit and he also wears his hair a bit longer. Azul still has his grey suit, though.

“Hello, MC. Done for the day?”

“I guess so, boss,” your voice replied cheekily. Boss?? Why would your future self ever work for-

“Hmm, I may have more tasks for you, why don’t you come in~”

With that, future-Azul takes your hand and tugs you into his office. On his desk sits several picture frames; one of his parents and one of his wedding. You happened to spot yourself in the second one.

It’s a bit jarring to see; you and Azul posed together, dressed up in such fancy clothing. His arm sits around your shoulder, and yours around his waist. Before this, the two of you have never even shook hands.

You hear yourself giggling, cornering Azul against the wall as soon as he closes the door and bringing your arms around his neck to kiss him.

You can already feel the dread forming; you definitely won’t be able to spend time at the Mostro Lounge after this…

As the two of you pull away, Azul starts talking about a reunion for your graduating class at NRC.

“I told them maybe - with the new branch of our restaurant opening, we may wish to stay back. Then again, it could be a great opportunity to network for us. What do you think, dear?”

Before you can hear your reply, the world fades back into the familiar lighting of the Mostro Lounge.

-

A groaning Azul is beneath you, having (unfortunately for him) broken your fall.

You utter a quiet ‘sorry!’ as you get off of him, still a bit flustered from your vision.

He gets up, dusting himself off. Thankfully, the two of you are in a rather secluded area of the place, so no one was there to witness your embarrassment.

Azul can no longer maintain the facade of kind gentleman as he turns back to you, voice dripping with passive aggressiveness.

“I would prefer if you refrained from touching me in the future. Thank you.”

With that, he gets up and leaves. You shake your head - how could there possibly be any timeline where you’ve married him?

iv. jaded jewels shine, awaken from slumber; jamil viper

While helping out with the VDC, you’ve had time to get close to Jamil. Much closer, in fact, than with any of the others you’ve had visions of before. Now you’ve avoided touching him for a whole other reason - you’re scared you won’t have a vision.

Spending time with Jamil has made you realize things you’d never thought about him before - his handsomeness, intelligence, and talent. You’ve developed a bit of a crush on him, considering how much you admire him.

However, you have no idea how he feels. Jamil has never been one to express his feelings so outwardly, but you can’t get a read on him at all. He’s been polite with you, but he’s treated you basically the same as everyone else.

Your attempts at getting closer to him have been rather unsuccessful - the group is so busy practicing, everyone’s been way too exhausted to really do anything.

You manage to get a moment alone at Ramshackle when the rest of the boys have gone to sleep, and you find Jamil sitting out on the porch alone.

“Hey,” you say. “Mind if I join you?”

Jamil turns to look at you before nodding his head. You take a seat beside him, following his gaze to the stars. The sky is dark but the moon casts a glow on him, making Jamil look beautiful under the light.

“What are you thinking about?”

He hums for a moment before replying, “What I’m always thinking about - how things will just go back to normal again after the end of the VDC.”

You don’t really know what to say; his fears seem inevitable, no matter how much you want to comfort him. “I’m sorry…I can’t understand what it’s like for you, but…what if you could still have some kind of happiness in your life?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…you could still find love?”

“Find love? You think that’s what I care about?” Jamil’s tone is bitter, but his voice never rises. “Sorry, but you’re awfully naive. Things like love won’t make my life better. It’ll only complicate things.”

“I-I understand.”

When your voice shakes, Jamil finally looks up at you, sighing when he spots your watery eyes.

“Prefect, relax. I’m not angry at you. It’s just a frustrating situation for me, I’m sure you know. I don’t have time to think about love. I just need to focus on myself.”

With that, he pats your shoulder before standing up, leaving you alone to stare at the night sky. Jamil hadn’t even realized you were trying to confess to him, and you felt terrible for even trying to bring it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to think about something like your stupid little crush - you feel so silly for even bringing it up, you should’ve known better since you know all about his circumstances.

It was then you realized - Jamil had touched you for the first time. He touched you and nothing happened.

The first one you’d been seriously interested in, and there seemed to be no future for the two of you.

Was it possible you’d already messed up this timeline, making it impossible for that future with him to occur? The whole thing made your head spin and your heart ache.

v. swept into spotlights, doused in delicacy; vil schoenheit

Vil had been a surprising comfort in the wake of your unrequited crush on Jamil. The two of you had gotten closer after VDC, and Vil had a way of pulling honesty out of you. It had only taken him a couple days of observing your awkwardness to guess at the situation.

He’d been a shoulder to cry on, both literally and figuratively. There’d been a moment when he first pulled you into his arms that you’d wondered - hoped - that he might be a possibility in your future, but alas, no vision. It was a bit disappointing but you knew it was wrong to feel too badly; it would be greedy of you to desire a connection with so many knowing you could only end up with one.

Vil became a friend - someone you could rely on, someone who could make you laugh, and someone who couldn’t break your heart.

Even when you would start to feel something more than platonic for him, you had to push it away. He was certainly gorgeous and talented and perfect…but he wouldn’t be that for you. He couldn’t, apparently, and maybe he wouldn’t want to either.

Vil was more than just a fellow student - he was an actor, a model, a celebrity - someone too far to reach. Even if you had a vision with him, would it matter?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Vil’s hand on your cheek, turning your face to get the correct angle to apply your eyeliner; he’d insisted you get dressed up with him and Rook to go out tonight.

“Move onto the bed,” Vil says.

You stand from the chair in front of his vanity and move hesitantly toward his bed. His silky sheets look perfect - you don’t want to ruin them. Looking back at him, Vil rolls his eyes and gently pushes you toward the bed until you lay back.

You’re left staring up at him on your back, while he sits above you, applying the rest of his products on your face. He’s so close to you, his luscious golden hair almost tickles your face. His pretty purple eyes don’t focus on your own, following his makeup brush.

He looks cute like this, concentrating hard to perfect your makeup. He bites his lip gently, drawing your attention to his pretty mouth, shining with the pink gloss he’d applied earlier.

When he leans away to pick up the blush, you mistakenly think he’s finished and try to sit up. At the same time that you rise, Vil turns back to face you. The timing coincides into an accidental and brief meeting of your lips.

It takes a second for you to realize that the dizziness your feel isn’t due to your racing heart, but the sudden appearance of another vision.

-

The lights flash, bright and blinding. The sharp clicks of cameras obnoxiously disrupt the music heard softly on the street from nearby restaurants and clubs.

You’re rushing away with Vil, hand in hand as he pulls you toward a black limo waiting up ahead. You nearly stumble, but Vil is quick to stabilize you.

Once the two of you escape the paparazzi, you’re left sitting side by side in the backseat of the limo, both breathing heavily. Vil gives the driver instructions to return back to his penthouse.

He turns to you. “Are you okay, darling?”

You feel yourself nod in affirmation, taking ahold of his hand again. He squeezes back.

“I’m sorry they’ve ruined another date. I know it’s hard for you not to have much privacy, but it seems no matter what I do, they find us.” He strokes your hand with his thumb.

“It’s okay, Vil. I knew what I was getting into, dating a celebrity and all that.”

He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Still, they shouldn’t bother us. I may be a celebrity, but you aren’t. You deserve privacy.” He sighs gently. “Has this…impacted our previous discussion?”

You look back up at him. You assume based on past visions that he’s much older now, but he’s kept his youthful and gorgeous look. Even now, his purple eyes make your heart flutter embarrassingly.

“Of course not. I want us to have kids together. You’ll be the best dad and protect them from all this. I know it.”

He kisses you on the lips this time just as your vision begins to end.

-

Vil snaps his fingers over you as you come too, rolling his eyes.

“I know my lips are practically intoxicating, but did you really get that worked up over an accidental peck between friends?”

Your face becomes hot at Vil’s statement, embarrassment setting in. He doesn’t know how right he is.

“Ah, sorry. I got…distracted.”

Vil laughs gently. “Why? Thinking of more of my kisses? They’ll cost you~”

When you stammer in response, he just ruffles your hair gently.

“I’m just teasing you.”

You stare at him for a moment before speaking. “I don’t think we can do each other’s makeup platonically anymore.” If it ever was, that is.

Vil rolls his eyes dramatically again.

vi. hidden in shadows, warmth comes in waves; idia shroud

The incident with Vil leaves you even more confused than before. It makes you wonder…if just touching isn’t always enough to have a vision, does that mean a future where you end up with Jamil is still possible? You don’t even want to hope, knowing the heartache he’d unknowingly caused you before.

And Vil…having a vision about him makes this complicated. When it was just lingering thoughts you could push to the side of your mind, your growing infatuation with him was easy to ignore. Actually seeing your future with him, has made your heart swell and ache at the same time.

You don’t exactly choose to become friends with Idia, it just kind of happens. Just like the previous situations where you’d attempted to avoid the star of your latest vision, Idia is someone who seems like a good choice to help you stay away from them. He isn’t good friends with Jamil or Vil (or frankly anyone). Incidentally, the two of you become friends after a small argument over an anime (the only topic that allows Idia to temporarily overcome his social anxiety just to disagree with you), and you begin to hang out occasionally.

The more your old friends hang out with the VDC group, the more you begin to make excuses and go play video games with Idia and Ortho.

It feels strangely easy, spending time with Idia. You never have to pretend, and with your shared interests, conversation comes naturally. Once you’ve spent enough time around him, he feels much more comfortable around you, willing to share his (strong) thoughts and opinions on everything.

Idia is very…different than you would’ve guessed before you knew him well. While he can be rude, you find it more funny than offensive, and it’s pretty fun to banter with him. His room holds small glimpses into his true personality; video games he loves, posters of his favourite characters. His passion for these things is clear as day.

Sitting on Idia’s couch, you’re playing against him and Ortho in Super Smash Bros. Ortho immediately claimed Kirby, proceeding to destroy the both of you multiple times until he emerged as the winner.

Despite the loss, both you and Idia can’t help but smile. Ortho makes a celebratory noise, before turning back to you.

“MC, we are about to encounter another rip in the time continuum,” Ortho says. “I’m so excited, do you think it will finally be my big brother’s turn to earn your love?”

“What?” you and Idia say for different reasons.

“How do you know about that?

“Earn their love??”

“It’s part of my programming to monitor all things involving space and time.”

“Huh. Okay.”

You suppose it’s true, you’ve never really touched Idia before. The two of you got along like best friends; it wasn’t so much of a stretch to say you could end up having a future together. You hadn’t thought about it much, in light of recent events.

“Usually you’re the only one able to see, but since Idia’s here, why don’t I show him too!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ortho,” Idia says.

“I think it will be good for you, brother! Don’t worry, I’ll give the both of you some privacy to see your future. It’s approaching in three, two-”

When his countdown reaches one, Ortho plops your hand on top of Idia, making your vision fade once again.

-

The Island of Woe is familiar to you by now, after everything that went down with Idia. The architecture remains impersonal; the uniformity of the blank steel walls reminds you of a maze. The thought had unsettled you, the last time you visited.

Strangely enough, you don’t feel that same sense of anxiety and claustrophobia in this vision. You’re strangely calm; it wouldn’t be crazy to assume that exposure and familiarity has dulled these feelings.

The scene is devastatingly unsurprising. You suppose you’d always known what Idia’s future would be; what all his ancestors futures had been. That hadn’t lessened the spark of hope you’d been carrying that perhaps things might turn out differently than he believed.

You had a bad habit of that: false hope for Jamil, false hope for Idia. It didn’t truly do anyone any good, no matter how much you wished it to.

You’re in Idia’s room. Aside from its size and how nice it is, the decor is a clear giveaway. The posters that line the walls aren’t from media you recognize, so it must be future content, but it’s all in line with Idia’s current tastes. You’re happy he has that, at least. You even catch a glimpse of a couple of his old posters from NRC rolled up in his closet. A few pieces even stand out, things that seem much more suited to your taste than his own.

A familiar head of blue hair wanders into the room.

“Hey MC.”

“Hi Idia,” you feel your lips gently pull up in the corners. Despite ‘your’ outward expression in the vision, you feel a small twinge of pain in your chest.

Idia’s entrance into his room (your room?) lets you take a close look at him. Even ten or so years later, it seems he hasn’t been able to rid himself of his eye bags. Even so, you still think he looks nice, his vibrant hair illuminating his pretty face. He’s cute, smiling back at you.

“Sorry I’m back late again. There’s been so many problems with the new system update, even Ortho can’t handle it himself.” Idia’s expression drops a little.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

Idia comes to sit beside you on the bed, head turning toward you. “Is it though? Stuck down here with me, and I can’t even be by your side half the time. I doubt this is the life you- anyone would dream of.”

“I miss you, of course I do. But I chose this life. I chose you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

The tears well in your eyes before you can stop them, and Idia’s panic only rises once he notices.

“Gah!! No, MC, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that. Sevens, I’m so stupid.” Idia awkwardly pulls you into his arms, and you begin wipe your tears onto his shoulder as you settle down.

“Sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me,” you sniffle.

“Don’t apologize, it was my fault. I don’t know why, every time I try to tell you how I feel, it always just comes out wrong. I try to tell you that I love you, that you deserve better than to be stuck here with me, and it comes out like that.”

“Idia…I know what you meant, it just took me by surprise to hear those words.”

“Loving you is supposed to be the one thing I can do to make your life here better, and I can’t even do it right.”

“Says who? Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”

“I made you cry, MC! Something is wrong with me…”Idia’s cheeks flush pink as he stares at his feet.

You want to comfort him, to tell him that it doesn’t matter, but you quickly feel yourself being pulled away. You’ve never wished more than to have a few more moments in a vision.

-

The room remains silent for a minute after the vision ends, the both of you trying to process what had happened.

“Idia…” you say, trying to bridge the gap between you, but not exactly knowing how.

“Maybe- I uh - maybe you should leave?” Idia says sheepishly.

“Leave? What did I do?” you say, feeling a bit hurt by his suddenly rejection.

“Nothing! I just- I’m sorry, I need some time. I can’t speak right now, I need to be alone.” Idia is clearly panicked, so you follow his brother to the exit.

“Sorry, MC,” Ortho says, opening the door for you. “Sometimes Idia gets overwhelmed in situations like this. Please, give him time and…please don’t give up on him like everyone else does.”

vii. sun and moon, forever in orbit; malleus draconia

You’ve known Malleus as long as you’ve known Riddle, but despite your blooming friendship, you’ve never had the chance to touch him before. The fae always seemed to prefer to keep his distance when visiting you at Ramshackle; close enough to talk, too far to touch.

That all changes when you finally agree to join the gargoyle studies club. It’s not as though you’d purposefully avoided it before, there’d just always been too much going on to really think about joining any of the clubs.

With Idia shutting you out, you were in dire need of a new hobby that would allow you to finally avoid thinking about what had gone down with him in the days before.

When Malleus finally strolls by Ramshackle again, you’re able to inform him of your intention to join his club.

It’s a remarkable thing, having stunned the fae prince into momentary silence at your request. He furrows his brow before replying.

“I do hope you aren’t making a joke at my expense, prefect. That would be rather cruel of you.”

You wave away his words, telling him that you’re entirely serious. He looks you up and down for a moment before a playful grin pulls at his lips.

“I suppose I will see you in our meeting on thursday, then. Please, don’t be late. We have much to see.”

-

Weekly meetings become bi-weekly, and soon you’re meeting up with Malleus almost daily. Since it’s only the two of you in the club, you take certain liberties when it comes to subject matter. You agree to let Malleus show you some ruins and he, in turn, agrees to watch the bachelor with you.

You don’t even like the show, but Malleus’ reactions are the real entertainment. He’s surprisingly sassy and opinionated about all the drama, although he tends to get confused on ‘human customs’ as he so puts it.

“Why won’t he make a choice? It’s clear who he truly desires,” Malleus asks one day, sitting on Ramshackle’s beat up couch as you watch the reality show together on your laptop.

“I don’t know, the guys on this show are always like this. They want to keep around as many options as possible until they’re forced to choose,” you mumble, mouth full of popcorn.

“Human men are fickle.”

You laugh. “Fae aren’t?”

He takes a moment to answer. “Some. Not dragon fae. Once we choose a person to love, we give everything to them, and expect the same in return.”

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you turn back to the screen. Throughout the rest of the episode, you can feel Malleus’ gaze flicker between yourself and the show, not fully invested like you are.

-

You’re not oblivious to his hints. It’s clear that things between you are become more than friendly, but it’s difficult to know how you feel about it.

On one hand, Malleus has always felt strangely charming to you, despite how he often came off to others. There was something about him, or perhaps just the sum of his parts that came together perfectly to make him into a wonderful being.

Spending time together and getting close felt nice, but you were far too used to this pattern to not feel worried about some kind of impending doom. It seemed every time you had a nice friendship, things would fall apart as soon as you found out about your future together.

Even when pleasant, the strangeness of the experience makes it uncomfortable to be around them again. You’ve felt bad avoiding your friends, but there isn’t much you can do to change your feelings.

Even worse - what if your vision with Malleus isn’t positive? After what you saw with Idia, the fear lingers in your mind.

Once you opened the gate, questions begun to flood your brain. What would a future be like with Malleus? Would that even be possible? Would you be his consort? Would a relationship between a human and fae be accepted? Would you be able to handle it? The anxieties were endless.

You think about telling him about everything. About Riddle, Leona…but how would he react? You tell yourself that it’s better if he doesn’t know. At least not until after.

He’s the first one you touch on purpose; you have to know.

A casual stroll around Ramshackle leads to the purposeful brushing of fingers, and you’re pulled into a familiar haze.

-

You’ve never been to Briar Valley, but you know with certainty that your vision takes place there.

The hall you sit in is long, gold trims running along the walls. The black dragon heraldry mounted above the fireplace at the end of the room looks more expensive than anything you’ve seen in your life.

Two wide doors swing open, and Malleus finally enters the room. He isn’t alone.

A small black shape zooms past his legs, plopping itself in front of you.

“Daddy and I picked you flowers from the garden!”

The blur isn’t some shadow, but instead a small child. Five or six, if you had to guess. If her words didn’t give away her parentage, the small, stubby horns peaking out from the top of her head of dark hair certainly told you this was Malleus’ daughter.

“Thank you, sweetie.” You smile at her, taking the flowers she drops in your hand. There’s still some dirt and roots attached, but she’s so adorable, you truly don’t mind.

“Can Uncle Silver take me horseback ridding today?” she asks you. “Daddy said it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you.” She blinks at you sweetly.

“Alright, I suppose. Just be careful, dear,” you reply.

“I have the best parents in all the kingdoms!” she shouted, running along to her chambers to get ready, leaving only you in Malleus in the room.

“She’s so lively today,” you comment, looking up at him.

“Indeed,” he replies, coming to rest beside you. “You look beautiful, my love.”

“And you, my king.”

The two of you share a kiss. It’s all so - dizzying. It’s not unexpected to have a child with Malleus - you had one with Riddle, but this is different. This child is older, she knows you, she feels so real.

He pulls away to smile at you. “I have a gift for you.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Need there be one for me to celebrate my wonderful spouse?”

“I suppose not. Thank you, Malleus. No matter how many gifts you give, I will treasure them all.”

He pulls out a box from his pocket, asking you to turn around. You feel him guide a cold band around your neck, clasping it in the back. He then places a small, handheld mirror in your hands, urging you to look.

The necklace he’s given you is beyond stunning. It’s silver, with a dazzling gemstone in the middle. You don’t even want to ponder how much it must’ve cost.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

It’s strange - seeing yourself much older when Malleus looks the same. It unsettles you more than you’d like to admit. It’s one thing to know you’ll age at different rates and another to see it with your own eyes.

This must be something on your mind in the future as well, because of the next thing you decide to ask Malleus.

“Will I see her grow up? For me, it feels like she’s been young forever. I love it and yet…I want to see more of her life than just this.”

He doesn’t ask who you’re referring to. “You will. You’ll see most. I was practicing mature by my eighty-first birthday.”

You sigh. “I may not even get that far. I’m healthy now, but who knows. The curses of being human…”

He tilts your chin to face him. “It is not a curse to me, my love. I chose you, and I would again.”

There’s infinitely more to discuss, but you already feel yourself slipping away.

-

You come to from the vision mid walk. Malleus is unaffected, seemingly still in the middle of one of his explanations behind the rich history of one of gargoyles you’d just passed by.

When he notices your silence and turns to ask if you’re alright, you have no response for him.

It seems almost selfish, for you to choose him. Why- why did there need to be so many things wrong? Why did you have to be human, to pain him and your future children by leaving them behind so early?

The joy and the pain - would it all truly be worth it? Or would it be better for it to have never happened?

Malleus looks at you with concern, wiping the tears suddenly cascading down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, my child of man?”

Everything and nothing, you want to tell him.

viii. all things end, all that we intend; conclusion

Seven beautiful souls, all potential endings. Every future you glimpsed has it’s own charms, and it’s own poisons.

Which future will you choose? One of them? Or perhaps…another?

[stllmnstr]

champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

note: another reupload!! hope this hopeless romantic college boyfriend jake hits just as good the second time around. happy reading ♡

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The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness. 

Scratch that – thirty minutes. 

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives. 

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up. 

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing. 

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it. 

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness. 

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book. 

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing. 

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second. 

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment. 

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date. 

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up. 

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her. 

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard. 

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure. 

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine. 

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it. 

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time. 

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm. 

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit. 

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course. 

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now. 

“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated. 

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door. 

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance. 

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one. 

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID. 

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother. 

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you. 

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be. 

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs.  And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home. 

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about. 

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line. 

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always. 

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.” 

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily. 

“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out. 

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again.  “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap. 

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly. 

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent. 

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.” 

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around. 

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully. 

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit. 

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly. 

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.” 

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is. 

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan. 

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text. 

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files. 

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage. 

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack. 

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door. 

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number. 

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine  every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently. 

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan. 

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with. 

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. 

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful. 

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding? 

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom. 

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger. 

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way. 

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long. 

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.” 

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out. 

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine. 

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute.  And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away. 

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger. 

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips. 

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.  

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms. 

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes. 

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it. 

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–” 

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking?  “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.  

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of  a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along  as you drag him with you. I am so fucked. 

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless. 

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before. 

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down. 

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone. 

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend.  “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing. 

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous. 

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number. 

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all. 

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true. 

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library. 

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror. 

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder. 

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop. 

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him. 

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you. 

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him. 

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare. 

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving. 

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.  

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace. 

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right. 

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall. 

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks. 

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace. 

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake. 

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser. 

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment. 

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company. 

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house. 

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university. 

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system. 

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst. 

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be. 

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges. 

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob. 

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.  

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all. 

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically. 

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom. 

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too. 

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.  

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants. 

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library. 

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter. 

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence. 

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax. 

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice. 

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.” 

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute. 

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides. 

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one. 

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now. 

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes. 

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer. 

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line. 

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.  

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it. 

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom. 

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.  

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight. 

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer. 

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim. 

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be. 

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one. 

An overwhelming sense of  self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else. 

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment. 

As you get closer, their words become more audible. 

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it. 

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him. 

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire. 

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this. 

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease. 

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is. 

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good. 

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over. 

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. 

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.” 

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it. 

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier. 

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.  

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine. 

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.  

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face. 

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant. 

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window. 

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace. 

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being. 

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.  

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey. 

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough. 

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault. 

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.  

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production. 

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for. 

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation. 

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices. 

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you. 

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there. 

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.  

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do. 

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath. 

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely. 

James Sim. 

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him. 

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker. 

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name. 

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed. 

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments. 

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs. 

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card. 

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced. 

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him. 

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well. 

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable. 

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles. 

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother. 

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read. 

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious. 

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles. 

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.” 

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes. 

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers. 

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother. 

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter. 

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you. 

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations. 

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it. 

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions. 

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there. 

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout? 

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus. 

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance. 

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.” 

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.” 

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have. 

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being. 

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom. 

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else. 

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening. 

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut. 

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless. 

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror. 

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :) 

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PART TWO IS UP AND LINKED ON MY MASTERLIST!

note: thank you for reading!! this is the version I had saved in my docs and it should be identical to what was posted before but in case there are any slight differences, that's why. I also sometimes make the fatal mistake of doing small grammatical edits in tumblr itself, so please excuse any minor errors as I didn't do a read through this time around. as always, I love to hear any thoughts you may have!

[loveemagicpeace]

Astrology Observations🪐

Men with capricorn placements or 10th house have a more paternal approach and fatherly qualities. They try to be good fathers. They embody this energy much more than others. They are very caring and do a lot for their children. They will almost always accept responsibility.

Capricorn placements have hard time letting thing and people go cuz they know that one they will let go they will not go back to that. its like a rule that they have.

Capricorn is associated with the seagoat, which means that he also has a lot of emotions hidden behind his cold nature. No one really knows how many difficult things they have experienced, because they always hide a part of themselves inside that they don't show to everyone (sometimes to no one). They know how to go through problems alone and usually do not talk about them until they are resolved. They can be much more secretive than scorpions. One thing that Capricorns will never express is that they are having a hard time or that they need help. They are taught to go through life on their own and overcome difficulties along the way. They are used to cruelty and a cruel world. They are vulnerable people inside, but they rarely show this side to anyone. They don't want to appear weak. Capricorns are very lonely people inside. Legend has it that "the seagoat lived with his children and warned them to stay in the water, but they went to the city." So the goat grew up in its loneliness and later died" that's why goats are used to being alone. Capricorns suffer in silence.

It isn't always easy for Rising-Capricorns to show their feelings, though powerful feelings do exist. You love deeply, are loyal and protective, and go out of your way to do kind deeds for others. However, you are often torn by jealousy and resentment (which you hide), and down deep you never really forgive someone who does you an injury.

U always have to look for mars sign in person chart to see how much effort they will put into something/ anything. Cuz mars is the way u act and react on things. What u will do about it and also how u fight. For ex.: mars in sagittarius have a fiery reaction to their surroundings and to the things that happen around them. And they are also very persistent. Mars in libra have very peaceful response. They do a lot for the relationship.

Being born on the cups means u have some tendencies of other sign. For ex.: libra sun born on 18-22 oct. have tendencies of scorpio which means that they will be much more intense, deep. You have magnetic personal charm. Your sensuality attracts others, even when you are not aware of it. U can also be more controling. Libra sun born from sept. 23 - sept 27 have more tendencies of virgo. You are people-oriented and possess a talent for making others like you. You would like to keep your emotions on an even keel, but you tend to be either enthusiastically happy or else dejected over some little thing going wrong. Love makes you feel fulfilled, and you are probably flirtatious.

For your health you have to look at your sun and opposite sign of your sun, rising sign & also all the other planets you have in your chart. For ex.: if you have stellium in your aires or a lot of energy of this sign u will embody a lot of this energy. So this means that your head, face, facial bone structure and hair will be the most exposed.

People with libra and sagittarius placements are most prone to being obsessed with shopping. There is no limit to how much you can buy. And you are very obsessed with buying clothes or something related to you. You like to enjoy comfort and things and don't feel bad about spending money.

My opinion is that in synastry aspect with sun conj ascendant, the person with the ascendant will be more attached to the person with the sun. Because the sun is what you shine for and your ego and person automatically emits this energy and follows it. And the sun is also something with which a person is seen. What a person is seen for or what makes them the center of attention. The ascendant person, however, has this personality.

Your 7th house is what you want to be, but it is difficult for you to achieve it, because it is a sign that is opposite to what you are. It is the hardest thing to achieve. So when you meet a person who has this energy, you like them for that very reason. Because it has the energy you need. For ex.: Aries in 7th house but the person has 1st house placements -You will find the person attractive because they have self-confidence, determination, courage, madness, hot-bloodedness. And it is exactly this person who will draw these characteristics out of you. 7th house is want u need not what u necessary desire. And this person will bring challenges out of you, and that's exactly why you'll like them.

Pisces will love being around people who will give them a sense of understanding. When they see that they are seen and understood. Because that's what they need and want. They need a lot of attention and tenderness. It's just that they don't show it like that because they don't know how. They feel safe with people with which they are seen.

Sagittarius placements especially mars they don't like staying in one place for a long time. They like to do things. They like challenges and explorations. And when they travel there, they also learn a lot about themselves. You like to experience the excitement of love in the same way you search for diversion in the rest of your life. First attractions are always wildly romantic. They don't like to waste time with a person if the energy is not compatible. They are very passionate in love and love that passion back. It is difficult to stimulate them.

People with the Neptune in 1st house spent a lot of their times near the sea. Also are more prone to be artistic, dreamers. With Uranus in 1st house your life is often marked by sudden and unexpected beginnings. You have a high-strung personality and an in- dependent way of looking at things. You can be strong- willed about getting your own way. Jupiter in 1st house- You are blessed with luck, and things usually turn out for the best in life. Venus in 1st house-Your appearance is important to you and you tend to spend too much money on yourself. Saturn in 1st house-You are patient and a bit shy, feel nervous underneath (which you keep under tight self-control).

Sun in 2nd house -You need security and tend to attract money, but it comes into and goes out of your life rather quickly. Pluto in 2nd house-You are adventurous about money and not afraid of taking risks. You like to diversify, and during your lifetime there may be several changes in your source of income.

Sun in 9th house-You enjoy seeing new places and exploring new ideas. You are a person who stands by your word and tends to be idealistic. Mercury in 9th house-During your middle years you may travel a great deal, both for health and your work.

Pluto in 11th house- You are something of a reformer, and seek to bring about a change for the better in any situation. You feel intensely about your goals and may even have an obsessive personality.

Sun in 12th house-You like privacy and quiet and the joys of meditation and reflection. You may be reticent or have difficulty expressing yourself and are close to only a few people. Mars in 12th house-you keep your deep and vehement feelings secret from the world. You have strong intuitive powers that can be used to advantage in personal relationships. Pluto in 12th house- You are a private person and do not share your emotions easily. People don't know how many darknes you carry within you.

Always look at the kind of Venus a person has (because that's what a person wants in love). What kind of love language does a venus person have. Women show what they find beautiful in a relationship and what will be attractive to them. With men, it shows what kind of woman they want and what it is that attracts them most in a woman. Example: Capricorn venus in 4th house - a man will want a woman who is strong, capable, can endure a lot of pain, responsible, reliable and devoted. They don't necessarily want a woman who is successful, rather a woman who has a goal and knows what she wants and is determined. At the same time, a caring woman may have a little maternal quality (more compassion, emotions).

People who have Bucket shape of chart tend to have a single-minded drive toward achieving a goal. They marshal their energies in one direction. People who have See-Saw shape will always stand between two decisions in life. Everything they choose will have two paths. Seesaw personalities are always able to see two sides of a question. They take into consideration opposing viewpoints and opinions, and weigh these when making their decisions. People who have Bowl shape will always have the feeling that something is missing in their lives. Until they meet someone to fill that void.

Quincunx - Originally classified as mildly adverse, the modern tendency is to consider its influence unpredictable and also more powerful than first thought. Semisquare-Mildly adverse. Brings tension that precipitates events but is much less powerful than a square.

Sun- neptune good aspects- Good imagination; artistic potential. Creative self- expression.

Venus- mars easy aspects-Feelings of warmth and affection easily ex- pressed. Enthusiastic. Passionate. Romantic. Venus conj Mars- A sensuous personality. Optimistic outlook. Good balance between charm and aggressiveness. Venus-saturn aspects-these people are very serious in love. They will never cheat you or do something wrong. They are very responsible and trustworthy people. You can always trust them.

Mars- saturn aspects- are very stable and reliable. In this aspect, I always see that the person will be direct with their actions and also show what they want. And they can also have a high value.

Cancer moon people like to be comfortable wherever they are. And let's say if they go to a cafe, they will always make sure that it is comfortable and that there are comfortable chairs to sit on.

Libra rising woman are very loyal and they really put a lot into the relationship and the partner. They are very helpful and compassionate. Libra rising men on the other side can be sometimes very indecisive and take a long time to decide what they want. Also, they can be insecure in themselves and be people pleasers which means that they can also look for validation of others.

Planets in the first house signify energies that become part of the individual's expression of self with regard to others. A concentration of planets here is likely to increase an individual's tendency toward subjectivity. Some planets in the first tend to lessen the degree of emphasis on the self. Neptune, for example, tends to cloud one's awareness of how one projects energies toward others.Such an individual may gain the ability to project multiple personalities such that others never really know who the individual is.

Although houses often seem to symbolize other people and entities, we have already pointed out that they really only symbolize our experience of these things. In other words, houses symbolize on the interpersonal and environmental level our orientations and relationships to these entities.

The third house does not indicate our actual brothers, sisters, and relatives, but rather our relationship to something they have in common, namely, that they are all people in our environment with whom we deal more or less automatically. It also shows the energy of the people you meet who make you feel like you've known them forever.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🪐✨🦋

[atxxzist]

spring in our hearts | c.s

summary: the spring where you finally fall in love and experience everything that comes with it; the good and the bad

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: angst, slice of life, slowburn, romance, fluff?

word count: 21.4k

pink.

everything outside is turning pink. the petals fallen from the cherry blossom trees sweeping the streets as the wind carries it away with the cold chill, making the arrival of spring feel so much more real.

pink has always reminded you of love though your best friend tells you to not think about it often. he believes you're horrible at it and has a shallow view on it.

you wouldn't say you're horrible if you don't exactly have the experience for it, your only romantic relationship ever was freshman year of college with a boy from english who found you cute but broke it off after only 3 months because he thought you weren't interested.

yeosang still brings it up occasionally because only texting a boy when they texted you and telling them you could only hang out once a week isn't the way to show someone you do like them.

you thought it was quite the statement coming from yeosang because he wasn't much of a prize either before his current relationship that finally managed to last longer than 6 months.

but he think he has finally found the one. he's sure of it. and maybe he's right about you being horrible to some extent because you wouldn't understand or know the feeling of when someone is just right.

you still don't get how your uncle was willing to move halfway across the country for the 'love of his life', leaving everything he knew behind in hope of making it work, or how your mother married your father against her parents wishes although you know him to be a great man.

even the compromises both yeosang and grace have to make can be hard to wrap your head around, but yeosang always says every time that once you meet that person, you will understand.

"this seat taken?"

your thoughts are broken and your neck snaps away from the window and its petal shower to the voice beside that takes your breath away momentarily because though he's just standing there in his morning hair, grey hoodie, and sweatpants, he looks absolutely out of place in this small cafe.

you shake your head, a knot forming in your throat the longer you stare at this stranger.

"i'll take it, if that's okay with you."

"go ahead," you assure, no idea why you're so captivated by this stranger you've known for less than a minute, eyes unable to leave as he removes his backpack to place in the seat next to him and finally takes the seat across from you.

you clear your throat, scanning the surrounding and just noticing how packed it has gotten within the few minutes you were out before looking back down to the half finished sketch on the table.

"you go there?"

the question pulls your head back up, meeting eyes once again with this stranger who has now comfortably seated himself, confused as to what he's talking about until he points with his chin to the sweater you're wearing that has your school logo plastered all over it.

you let another second of silence slip through before answering in your most friendliest tone because you don't usually get people trying to start conversations often, or at all.

"oh, yes," you say. "it was a shirt my friend didn't want."

you regret the words as soon as they leave, feeling like you wanna smack ur head onto the table because you don't know why you needed him to know that.

you really are not big on school spirits or whatever, but yeosang had offered it to you after he bought a size too small.

and this stranger is probably able to sense your nervousness just now that he attempts to giggle it off, dimples emerging from his cheeks all of a sudden that you can't keep your eyes off of.

you've seen a fair share of good looking guys in your lifetime, but this dude might just be at the very top and you're thinking the only obvious reason he'd even wanna sit with you is because all the other seats were taken.

"well that's nice of them," he says with a warm smile. "it's a well designed shirt."

you nod slowly at that.

"i guess so."

"i just transferred the beginning of this year so i just thought it was cool to run into someone alike."

"oh?" your pitch piques with a unique kind of interest. "y-you also go there?"

"yes. junior, going onto senior next semester. you?"

"same..." you answer, fighting the tiniest smile that wants to break out because what were the chances the two of you are the exact same age, and it's not like you plan on seeing him after this, but to hear how big the possibilites are is a little crazy.

he chuckles, one hand running over his disheveled hair as you're sure the same thing is also going through his mind.

"and then what?" yeosang asks, after you finish the retelling of your encounter with the incredibly cute and kind boy from the cafe.

"what?" you repeat, one eyebrow raised.

"what happened after?" he states, as if asking the obvious while spinning around in the computer chair that belongs to his girlfriend.

"i had to go to class," you answer, unfazed and oblivious much to yeosang's frustration which is why he wanna facepalm right then and there.

"you didn't even ask for his number?"

you shake your head. "no."

"i bet you don't even know his name," he says only sarcastically but he would be right.

"i don't."

you watch in bafflement as yeosang continues to sigh and complain before grace comes bursting through the door with the two boxes of pizza.

"you won't believe what your girl just told me," yeosang opens his big mouth and tells on you the second he can, prompting grace to hum in curiosity because she's just as equally nosy.

"what happened?" she says, placing the boxes on the stand next to the door.

"little miss over here had a cute boy actually talk to her and didn't even ask for his number nor his name," yeosang spews, accusation in his tone like you just committed a crime. "and worst of all, she lost the pen i got her for christmas."

grace gasps in response and plops down next to you as her weight makes the bed sink.

you roll your eyes, dismissing the last comment but going on to defend your name, "okay. you're being dramatic. it's not like i want him to be my boyfriend. i just happened to meet someone pleasant and i'm okay with the idea that nothing more will come from it."

your best friend shakes his head in disapproval and mutters, "you anti-romantic."

"and where did you meet this boy again?" grace asks.

"the cafe i usually go to."

"maybe you'll run into him again." she shrugs.

"maybe," you utter lowly. "but it's ok. like i said, i just thought it was a nice encounter and had to tell yeosang about it but if i knew he was gonna make a big ass deal, i would've just told you."

"excuse you," yeosang chimes in, "i was just looking out for you. you need to get yourself a boyfriend or at least a friend of your own so you won't be cockblocking all the time."

"first of all, i did get myself a friend," you say, your voice a type of snarky, "but you had to go and make her your girlfriend."

yeosang scoffs, the topic making rounds once again and proceeds to stop spinning himself to churn out another comment to annoy you.

"well maybe she became your friend because she was always meant to be my girlfriend."

you met grace as soon as you stepped foot onto campus given she was your literal roommate, and it only took a couple days to become comfortable with each other because the girl was so friendly and welcoming unlike anyone you've ever met before.

it wasn't until a week later that you considered the two of you actual friends, taking in the fact she was someone you saw yourself sticking by even in the far future.

but it only took another month for yeosang to see what you saw in her and snatched her away, recalling how fast their relationship went from friendly to romantic, you were so annoyed with yeosang because if anything went awry, it would've costed you the first friend you've made besides him.

but here's to them going on 2 years and a half so you really hope yeosang doesn't fuck it up because you think with his track records, you're in the right to have some doubts.

ignoring his response, you go on, "and second of all, your bitch ass invited me so how am i cockblocking?"

grace lets out half a chuckle and stands up to head for the boxes earlier, turning to the both of you.

"you both are hangry. pizza?" she offers.

yeosang takes a slice while you shake your head, telling her you're not hungry right now.

"my point is," yeosang continues, "it was the perfect chance and you completely missed it, but it's whatever now. i summoned you today because i've only seen your hermit ass like three times ever since the start of the term."

"well, yes. i wanted to focus on my studies."

"you need to learn how to relax once in a while," he says, with actual sympathy this time, "which is why i think you're gonna love what i have to say next."

but it just mellows out into an almost sarcastic-like tone, as if he knows you're gonna hate the idea but he's still persistent to go through with it.

"what?" you say, unamused.

he adjusts himself in the chair and puts the barely bitten pizza on standby as grace stares in anticipation because you're sure she already knows exactly what he's gonna say.

"so like, remember yunho?" he squeaks.

it takes a raised brow and maybe two seconds, but you manage to remember, blurting, "jeong yunho?"

"yes!" he nods way too excitedly.

all you really know about jeong yunho was that you've met him probably only twice and had less than a conversation when you did, though not failing to recall how soft-spoken and kind he also was.

"it's his birthday... well, technically his birthday already passed, but he's gonna be holding a late party to celebrate it and i might've maybe told him you're gonna come," yeosang announces, ending the ment with a stupid goofy smile like that's gonna lessen the impact.

"what the fuck, yeosang?"

you scowl, and grace jumps in, "i told him not to but he didn't wanna listen."

"it's a great opportunity!" he cowers back, high-pitched and all as he tries standing his ground.

"you know how much i hate parties!" you yell back just as loud.

"you've been to one!"

"one too much!"

"oh come on, y/n!" he slumps back in the chair staring at you like a disappointed parent. "you only have a year left after this semester. do you really not even wanna have some fun?"

"no. i really don't," you deadpan, much to an eyeroll and sigh from him while grace just sits by idly watching.

"it's not gonna be one of those crazy weird frat parties, i promise. just a house party with close friends, yunho said. plus, there's gonna be plenty of cute guys there."

"good for you. maybe you can find someone there," you say unseriously much to a giggle from grace but to an unamused yeosang because he seriously mean it.

he wants you out of your comfort zone at least just once and go and talk to people you might potentially like, having stayed in your own bubble for so long.

"please?"

the desperation makes you fight the urge to give in but you're losing, only huffing in annoyance.

"what happened to 'you're horrible at this romantic shit'?" you cite him word for word, throwing it back in his face.

"that's cause you really are. plus, you were being annoying at the time. but still doesn't mean i don't want you to try."

you think you're gonna regret. you know you're gonna regret it, but a part of you want to do it just for your best friend so you cave.

"i'll go. but if someone pukes on me again, i'm making you clean that shit with your own mouth."

the party starts at 7 p.m. sharp but yeosang's late birthday gift run leaves you guys almost an hour late, lightly knocking on yunho's door at 7:54 p.m. expecting for the house to be flooded with even more people you don't know but you're surprise to see a couple familiar faces in the background when the door comes apart.

"hey!" the tall birthday boy greets all of you, a lady by her side and arm wrapped around his who you can only assume to be his girlfriend sends a friendly smile the same time.

"come in, come in," he ushers, the three of you stepping inside to the much humble and comforting interior, nothing alike a stereotypical party setting and it's already managed to be the better party you've attended.

it's homey, a bit classy, and you should've expected it because the house is also in a relatively safe part of the neighborhood.

"you guys made it!" yunho welcomes again, his voice loud and excited, eyes traveling between your friends before it eventually stops on you.

"y/n, right?" he says, your name almost foreign sounding coming from him.

you nod in response and the taller boy smiles in relief, not typical of him to forget names but also not wanting to mess up and offend you.

"glad you could make it. i was afraid you couldn't because yeosang went on and on about how much parties scares you."

you narrow your eyes at your best friend and his habit of oversharing before a loose chuckle escapes.

"did he now?"

"he did," yunho says, also a small giggle out of him as if trying to ease the mood and make you comfortable. "but don't worry about it. it's not gonna be crazy, i'm sure of that."

"i appreciate it," you thank him, touched by the kind gesture of assurance although the man barely knows you. "i'll try to enjoy myself."

again, you've only seen yunho on two occasions before this and you can barely even recall the second one, only seeing him in passing along with others currently at the party when you'd go seek out yeosang inbetween classes.

yeosang smirks from beside you, happy and impressed from how you're already easing yourself into the situation, clearing his throat and deciding it's his turn.

"this is for you, birthday boy," yeosang says, presenting the gift in his hand proudly as if he didn't panic just almost 2 hours ago when you brought up if he was gonna get yunho something.

"appreciate it, man. i'm gonna put it with all the other gifts to open later."

he takes it into his hold, attention shortly pulled away by another knock at the door.

"i'm gonna get that. you guys make yourself at home," yunho says, excusing himself with his lady still at armrest.

"see, that wasn't so bad," yeosang takes the first chance he gets as soon as yunho's out of earshot, nudging you by the shoulder much to an eyeroll in return.

"don't speak so fast, we haven't even made it past 10 minutes."

"it's gonna be awesome," he states, convinced of his own words. "you, grace, and all the other girlies can hang out or something while i'm gonna go chat it up with the boys."

a visible annoyance paints grace's expression as she huffs, "if that's the case, i'm coming with. you seem to get stupider with every party."

a couple minutes later and a banter between the lovebirds about how reckless yeosang gets when he's drunk, you wind up in the downstairs bathroom of yunho's house, regretting that you didn't take grace's advice of peeing before coming.

at least the bathroom's nice but you don't wanna have to go out of your way and look for your friends in midst of all staring eyes. you already had enough of those making your way here.

the two had said they wouldn't leave you and it's best you guys stick together, but when you finally spot yeosang, he's already chatting it up with someone new when he was talking to wooyoung before--someone you also don't know well except the fact he's loud and extroverted the last time you met him.

grace is nowhere to be found and you're thinking whether you should just go look for her or insert yourself into the conversation yeosang and this stranger who's only visible from the back of his head, is having.

you don't get to make a choice because yeosang is quick to make it for you, sneaking over this person's shoulder and locking eyes with yours, one hand in the air motioning you to come as if you're his pet while his other is now occupied with a red cup.

you can hear him spewing from a distant as you make your way there, telling the person before him, "oh right, san, this is--"

"--strawberry peach?" the voice not belonging to yeosang says, so strange but familiar and recent at the same time, it stops you dead in track once you meet his eyes.

"strawberry peach lemonade?"

you pick your head up at what sounds like a question, following his gaze to your drink on the table, answering a mere, "yes."

"you came to a cafe to get lemonade?" he tease, delivery a type of amused that would've offended you if not for the smile on his lips.

"what's wrong with that?"

he snickers lowly and shakes his head before going back to his book and muttering, "nothing."

"oh?" yeosang is as confused as the both of you. "you two know each other?" because very rarely do you ever know anyone before he does.

"we met the other day," san tells your friend, your lips tight and body too in shock to answer properly. "at a cafe. she got the strawberry peach lemonade."

"oh. oh!" yeosang's volume turns an octave, a realization hitting him and making the corners of his lips go up because this is the guy you were going on about who was so cute and left such an impression you had to tell him when he knows you to not even look twice a guy's direction.

"thank god," you friend says. "i was afraid she went by some alias on the internet i wasn't aware of."

the comment makes both you and san freeze in place before a chuckle comes hurling out of him though he was fighting to bite it back.

you don't blame him because why would you when your best friend just implied he thought it was your possible camgirl name.

"you're fucking stupid," you hiss, a mix between laughing it off and feeling extremely embarrassed in front of the sole person you didn't think you'd ever meet again and this is how you're officially reintroduced.

"well," yeosang exhales, quick to brush off the remark because he has other things in mind, "i'm gonna go look for grace."

you knew it was coming and that he was gonna try to get the two of you alone but you didn't think it'd come this fast, your palms already starting to sweat and your feet feels like it's gonna make a run for it.

"i'll catch you guys later. you two have fun," yeosang bids goodbye as san returns one while you're just standing and thinking of all the ways to get back at him if this doesn't go well.

"a bit crazy, isn't it?"

that soft, melodic tone pulls you away from yeosang's walking figure and to his eyes that could almost melt you on the spot, that strange sensation settling in the pit of your stomach from his lingering gaze.

"definitely a bit crazy," you manage to say after composing yourself, because you do wanna talk to him and not scare him away, but you're feeling a lot more self-conscious than usual.

but whereas you cave easily under stressful situations, san treads through them with confidence, breaking the ice by asking a question.

"that guy, yeosang, you guys together?"

and if you were in the middle of drinking something, you would've spat it right out at such question.

"definitely not," you deny passionately, though it wouldn't be the first; you and yeosang getting the accusation from time to time because you two happen to be of opposite sex and are actually just friends.

"i'd rather lose an arm before picking to settle with him," you add.

you love your best friend, you do. he's always there for you when needed and has been with you through everything, but he's also messy, lazy, and probably the most disgusting person you know.

grace is a soldier for putting up with it for almost three years now and you don't know how she does it.

san chuckles at the response and the pure offense on your face.

"why not? sounds like an overall decent dude."

"i've known him since middle school. he's more a friend than anything and sometimes like a brother. plus, he has a girlfriend, grace."

"ah," san coos, "so you're the friend. he did say he came with his girlfriend and a friend but he thought his friend was trying to hide."

you shouldn't have expected any better from yeosang but you still wanna kick when you do see him, opting to calmly explain yourself, "was just taking a while in the restroom, that's all."

though you're not sure if it was necessary to address that, your cheeks burning a light pink after that san takes notice to.

he giggles it off and you're glad it made him smile at least.

"if i knew i was gonna meet you here, i'd bring your pen, but i don't think neither of us were expecting such coincidence."

your eyes swell a kind of surprise, almost stuttering when you finally speak, "you got my pen?"

you had quickly packed all your things, afraid you were gonna be late for the next class and you were so sure you got everything. it wasn't until you got back to the dorms that you noticed the stylo sketch pen yeosang got you for christmas was missing.

it didn't take long for it to be considered lost forever because there wasn't much hope of finding it even if you went back, but you didn't think it'd wind up in the hands of the boy you met that day.

"yeah, sorry if you came back looking for it. i had noticed you left it and thought it was rude if i didn't do anything. maybe that's why fate sent me here today," he says, snickering at the last comment, though at this point blaming it on fate doesn't seem so crazy.

"thank you," you tell him quietly, moved by the consideration but volume falling behind the progressing loud music though he can still make out your lips.

"no problem." he smiles.

and you don't know how it's possible but he looks even better than last time, the black attire and slicked back hair a contrast to the other day but when you speak to him, it all still feels the same... the slightly mischievous but easygoing personality turning away your initial worries and nervousness until you can't even remember why you had them.

the only thing left to weigh heavy is his usage of 'fate', the impression that you two meeting today was because of destiny and something already set in stone, but you might be overthinking.

"do you wanna go outside?" he asks, practically shouting at this point because the music has completely drowned out his voice.

he can tell you didn't hear him by how you confusingly squint your brows and unintentionally lean closer, to which he returns, whispering into your ear that shouldn't have sparked whatever it did.

you pull away to nod hesitantly and follow him out the backdoor, your throat clogged and body almost frozen if you weren't walking, glad he isn't looking because never in your life has a man smell that good before.

it's probably not the best idea to be away from your friends with someone you barely know, but you also don't have any reasons not to trust san... for now.

the spring air hugs your skin and you shiver slightly, only a thin cardigan to protect from the cold that makes san second guess coming out here.

"if it's too cold, we can go back inside. i just thought maybe you'd prefer somewhere where we could actually hear each other."

you shake your head but throw in a small smile to show you appreciate the consideration.

"it's okay. it is definitely way too loud inside there."

"yeah," he agrees, "and whoever's phone is connected to the bluetooth has a horrible taste in music." the now muffled audio a rock song you cannot make out the lyrics to even back at the house.

you laugh at the remark, the both of you staring into nothingness but yunho's backyard fences, yet it feels nice. safe. comfortable.

"i bet it's yeosang. he puts on the shittiest songs," you talk bad behind your friend's back, getting a giggle from san that makes it worth it.

"by the way, what did yeosang say your name was again?" he asks, turning to you with his full attention after realizing this whole time he doesn't even know your name.

"y/n," you tell him, locking eyes and ignoring the sensation in your stomach again from being this close and alone to someone who looks like that.

"y/n." you listen to him repeat your name under his breath. "you definitely look like a y/n."

the comment makes the corners of your lips turn, telling him he sounds so silly.

"it's san, right?" it's your turn to ask, sure you got it correct because yeosang's voice is loud, annoying, and hard to miss.

"yes," he confirms. "san choi, or choi san."

"choi san," you mumble, "it definitely has a beat to it."

and you're both laughing together the next, it doesn't feel real how easy being with him is. how, you were so hesitant about showing up and not being able to talk to anybody and now you're actually enjoying yourself, the state of your friends completely forgotten.

you don't usually wanna know many people but you wanna know more about san, every expressions he makes and any words he says paid attention and listened to carefully, you hope you won't scare him off just yet.

the conversation taking place after feels never-ending from him telling you about the transfer process to sharing majors and learning he specializes in math, you don't even realize you've both been standing in the cold for a while until a voice calls out to you.

"y/n!"

you look over your shoulder to find grace standing there, only half her body out the door and moving her eyes from you to san, the slight surprise when she sees you're with someone.

"there you are," she says. "i thought you had left without telling us."

you're now fully facing her with san following, watching from the side as you two carry on.

"what happened?" you ask.

she sighs before telling you it's yeosang, not to anyone's surprise.

"he's stupid drunk already and picking fights," she adds, getting second embarrassment again just thinking about how mad her boyfriend had got when he found out wooyoung had gotten yunho the same gift.

it wasn't anyone's fault; yeosang just loses half his braincells when he's under the influence.

you shake your head unamused and swipe san a glare, apologizing and telling him you have to go.

"wait," san stops you before you could completely leave him standing alone in the cold. "your pen. can i still give it back to you?"

you're standing there almost starstrucked-like and nodding your head, stuttering at the fact he wants to see you again.

"y-yes."

"perfect." he smiles. "how about the cafe again? we're both familiar with the place."

"that'll work," you say. "this monday?"

"this monday."

"cool. i'll see you then, san."

"what? no way!" grace yells, after you finish telling her about san and how crazy the coincidence is.

"yeah... i didn't really think i'd see him again," you say softly while settling down on the edge of your bed with grace across in hers, your heart doing a turn just thinking about the exchange between you and san again.

"you're blushing," grace snaps you out, meeting her gaze and batting your lashes.

"what? i'm not," you deny, adjusting yourself in the seat like that's gonna make her less suspicious.

"no. you are." she giggles. "you like him."

the bold statement makes your eyes go wide, shaking your head and denying the accusation on the spot because you can't possibly like someone you just met.

"i don't even know the guy," you tell her, trying to convince her as much as you are to yourself, hoping she won't catch how tense you're sounding at just the mere topic of this guy.

"so?" she shrugs, leaning back with her hands to the sheet. "you can't know a person within one night. finding out about the person is all part of the journey to eventually, a relationship."

you just learned the guy's name and now she's already bringing up the possibility of a relationship.

"believe me, y/n." she sits back up, intensely locking eyes with you and voice stern as if schooling a child. "the almost 3 years i've known you, i've never seen you look at anyone like that."

"you're being dramatic," you say, but the girl is still persistent, repeating herself and assuring you san is special.

"you're meeting him monday, right?"

"yes." you nod, a part of you still nervous but also excited to be seeing him again.

"tell me how it goes!"

when monday rolls around, you don't wanna think grace is right, but from how your heart is pitter pattering in your chest and you even glanced an extra time at the mirror before coming, you're afraid she just might be.

you don't have class till noon, and though he didn't specify the time, you just assumed it was around the same as last time, making yourself comfortable and occupied by scrolling through your social feeds.

the opening of the cafe door is missed and you don't fully comprehend he's here until a small 'hi' pulls you from the screen, looking up as he smiles down at you and you're reminded of why it's so hard to look away from this man.

"hey," you greet as calm as your nerves allows you to.

he takes the seat across and settles his backpack the same as he did before, the smile on him never having left his face the entire time.

"no drinks or what?" he says, the slightly teasing tone lightening up the atmosphere.

"i wanted to wait till you get here," you tell him. "i thought it would be rude if i ordered ahead of time."

he chuckles and shakes his head.

"no worries. i would've understand, but i appreciate the consideration." there's a split second of silence before he continues, "tell me what you want, i can go order."

you hum and think as if you don't get the same thing everytime; san jumping in when you can't seem to make a choice.

"strawberry peach, right?" he asks, an eyebrow raised.

"strawberry peach," you confirm, reaching for your bag to give him the change. "here's--"

but he kindly interrupts you, waving it off and assuring he got it

"are you sure?" you ask, a kind of worry in your voice because you feel slightly bad he has to pay for your $3 drink.

"of course. i'll be back."

and he goes off with a smile; you catching the dimple poking out of his cheek before he left and you think it just might be your favorite thing about him... not that you're keeping track of others.

you thank him quietly when he returns, mind suddenly empty when it comes to topic although you two were just talking a few days ago like you were never gonna run out of things to talk about--then you remember.

"right... so my pen," you bring up, hoping it's not too straightforward but you really wanted to say something.

his face lights up, the realization hitting him as well.

"oh, right right. give me a sec," he says, pulling his backpack and digging through it before pulling out the sketch pen yeosang got you almost two christmas ago. "your pen."

he hands it to you and you accept it with the sincerest 'thank you' you could let out, playing with it in your hand because you did think the old thing was lost for good.

"don't forget it this time," he teases; your head picking up to let out a snicker.

"i won't."

he nods, staring at the pen you've still yet to put away and thinking back to what you were doing the last time you were here.

"you're an artist?" he asks, the question casting your eyes with a twinge of shyness at such wording.

you've never considered yourself an artist. if you did, you think it'd be an insult to actual artists.

"i draw and major in arts but i'm not an artist," you tell him with a shake of your head and a dry snicker this time.

"then you're an artist," he says, shrugging with the most nonchalant expression painting him.

you chuckle, continuing to deny such bold claim.

"just because someone cooks that also doesn't make them a chef."

"that's fair," he agrees, thinking the logic makes total sense. "but i'm sure your arts are amazing."

here's to sitting with probably the cutest guy you've ever met, and he's telling you you're amazing at the one thing you're passionate about and you're not sure how to feel about that.

"you haven't even seen my work," you say, the mischievous tone in this back and forth feeling more like a banter at this point.

"no. but i saw a glimpse," he defends, really set on the fact he thinks you are totally good at what you do even if you are correct about him not having seen the whole thing, "and i'm sure the actual work is amazing."

you reframe from rolling your eyes and bite at your lips instead so the smile doesn't slip, moving the discussion along because you're more interested about him than your unsatisfactory artist journey.

"so what do you do with you know... math?" you ask, trying to not sound ignorant on the topic but that's exactly how it came off.

thankfully, he finds it cute and laughs it off.

"i went into it because the people around me said i was good at it," he says, a bit unfazed and dull. "that's pretty much it, i guess." and ending it with a smile when he catches your gaze again.

"but do you enjoy it?"

there's a quick silence and san tilts his head slightly, quirking his lips to the side before answering.

"it's not bad. if anything, it's been easy, so i'm glad for that at least."

you nod, smiling in return.

"that's good. only one more year and we'll be done."

"yeah," he says, letting out a loose chuckle after. "i can't wait. there's something i want to do after, but for now, we'll have to see what happens."

and you wanna ask him more about it; what is it that he wants to do after and just more about him in general, but you have taken notice of the clock sitting behind him and the fact you only have 20 minutes to get to campus.

you kindly thank him again for returning the pen as well as the drink, and in the midst of all turmoil and conflicted feelings because you don't know how to ask if you're gonna see him again, he's the one who fortunately suggests you guys exchange numbers.

you leave the shop with one last wave to him and his handsome smile ingrained in your head for the rest of the day.

but you're still not sure you like him just yet. not until summer.

after almost six hours, a few rest stops, and long stretches of desert roads, the heat of the much southern california is felt along with the sight of palm trees spread out everywhere.

"we've arrived, ladies," yeosang announces, finally parked into the hotel's parking lot after missing at least two turns before he found the place.

as soon as you step out, the summer air is annoying and you wish you hadn't wore long sleeves. but you like summer because it always marked the end of a semester and then the beginning of a new one--the fact you're so close to almost graduating.

you were planning to not do anything all summer, just eager for some rest and break away from the stress that came with school and your part-time job, but yeosang was quick to scrap all plans and make some of his own.

said his friends were gonna go down south and out of town for a whole week and invited him, and he wanted you and grace to come along since it would be the last summer break you all would share before graduating.

you told him you would come as long as he would be driving and he didn't have any problems. he thinks you and grace are terrible drivers though you would say otherwise.

"and who are these friends of yours again?" you ask, taking your luggage out of the trunk and staring up into the hotel you guys would be staying at, amazed at the amount of floors the building holds.

"you know," yeosang replies, shutting the trunk after he's made sure nothing's left behind, "yunho, wooyoung, and some others at the party."

you hum at the vagueness of the answer, following both your friends to the hotel's lobby that has a mix of modernness but also slight tropical and beach vibes, the color scheme a combination of white, woodsy brown, and green.

after being given your room keys, you don't wanna do anything but lay down and rest for a bit though yeosang should be more tired than you, he still has enough energy to roam the rest of the hotel when grace asked.

your room is a single queen bed and has almost the perfect view to beach if not for the huge palm tree that happens to sit in front.

yeosang and grace had initially wanted just one room together to save on cost but you didn't wanna be that person, and especially the third wheel to everything, so you cut your losses.

it's gonna be hefty on your wallet but it's only for a week, and plus, you get your own privacy and space away from the eyes of your friends.

the late preparations and long drive left almost no free time, so instead, the night is spent on the rooftop restaurant of the hotel where grace wanted to eat at, and after finishing your meal, you excuse yourself to go shower and sleep first because you want to wake up early for breakfast.

--

you wind up in the dining room alone at 7:30 in the morning because both your friends moaned and groaned about it being too early.

your breakfast consists of two pancakes, scrambled eggs, a banana, and a cup of coffee; choosing to settle on a table in the far corner.

you watch the many guests go in and out of the dining room, also keeping yourself occupied with your phone while eating hoping to finish fast enough so you'll be able to go back upstairs to do your makeups and pick out an outfit since your friends want to go sightseeing later.

and you were doing pretty good keeping your eyes to the entrance of the dining room, but you must've missed their arrival, because as you go to shove a piece of pancake down your throat, the slight tap on your shoulder makes your head turn.

"san..." you say his name so naturally, it just instinctly rolling off your tongue.

you haven't seen him in a while, but now he's standing in front of you although you're almost 6 hours away from home.

"hey, y/n," he greets, the smile you also haven't seen in a while making all of that strange sensation come back as he takes the seat across from you.

"hey," you say, your shock now morphing into actual joy at the fact he's here. "what are you doing here?"

"wooyoung invited me," he answers, nodding off in a direction that your eyes shoot to, seeing wooyoung, yunho, and a couple others from the party just as yeosang said, huddled around an area of the room you can't believe you missed.

"oh," you mumble, as if all of this should've been expected and it's no surprise san is here too.

"and where are your friends? what are they doing to be leaving you alone like this?" his voice a mix of teasing but also concern, it's hard to tell which one is louder.

but you laugh, telling him your friends stayed up way too late last night and didn't wanna get up this early.

"i see." he nods. "well, good thing i found you." he smiles again, every single time making your heart strangely tight.

you didn't see san much after the cafe meeting, or at all. the both of you busy with either school, work, or other responsibilities, most of the interactions were limited to texting, and even then, it was hardly a daily occurence.

though you guys did exchange instagrams and he poked fun of you because your profile picture was a digital painting you did of yourself and you had 3 posts only--all of them also of art works, he at least complimented you.

said you have an amazing gift and all that even if you're still trying to believe it yourself, you appreciate the kindness.

"yeah," you say. "kind of crazy we were going on the same trip and didn't even know it."

the realization makes the both of you giggle in sync, the conversation and atmosphere so easy flowing, it's hard to believe you haven't talked to him face to face for a few months now.

"but again, we were kind of occupied with our own thing and all that," he tries reasoning. "but i'm glad you're here. it will be fun, you know. wooyoung they're all a little loud but i'm sure you got a friend to match the energy."

you nod, a smile on your lips almost the whole time and your food going cold because san just said he's glad you're here.

"oh for sure. we will fit just right in with yeosang."

it was a night where you and san texted for much longer than usual when he told you how him and wooyoung became friends. the boy younger than him by a few months but so much more extroverted and chaotic in every other way.

nonetheless, he said wooyoung is a great friend to have and he's grateful for the wonderful people he's met through him.

you were mostly focus on the initial surprise and shock of seeing san here, you didn't even realize he's sat down with you the entire time before he's even got anything to eat.

"you should probably go grab something," you tell him, your tone sweet and concern even if you've yet to really become close to this man.

he briefly checks over his shoulder to find his friends still occupied and not seated, shaking his head.

"i'll wait for them. besides, if i go, i'm afraid you're gonna try to run away."

you can't help the squint that takes over one of your eyebrows, the line between teasing, being friendly, and flirting blurring into one and you feel you're giving yourself too much credits for even thinking of the possibility of the last one.

but before you can say anything, a rather familiar and nice-sounding voice beats you to it.

"hey, y/n!"

it's yunho, face and body language as kind and welcoming as ever, and with his girlfriend wrapped around his arm who you've also learned from san, prefers her korean name, jiwon, over her american given one.

"hey!" you try to be enthusiatic as much as you allowed yourself to without the help of yeosang. this is usually his field of expertise.

they ask about your friends whereabouts the same as san, and you give the same response as they hum and nod in understanding.

"well it's perfect we ran into you here then," yunho beams. "we're thinking of hitting the pool this evening, you guys care to join?"

you're probably the worst person to ask out of your group, swimming not really being your thing and all, but you give yunho your words that you'll ask yeosang and grace first, guaranteeing the fact the two are gonna say yes.

they eventually excuse themselves and bid you goodbye, the process catching some of the other guys attention as they take notice to you and give out small waves before disppearing to get breakfast.

"awesome. i guess i'll see you then."

san snaps you back, meeting his gaze and throwing a smile that could melt you on the spot.

"we'll see," you mumble.

"i should probably leave you to finish your food then. you leaving soon?" he looks down at your plate and you follow, feeling almost embarrassed at the mess that you've only half ate.

"yeah. i think i'm good for breakfast." you chuckle lightly.

he pretends to pout, quirking one side of his lips.

"aww i'm sorry for distracting you. yeah i really should get going."

"oh no you're good. i'll just be on my way."

"alright. i'll see you later?"

"yeah, i'll see you later."

and with that, after watching him walk away as he bids one last farewell, you clear your table and head back upstairs; the encounter heavy on your mind as you start rummaging your luggage for an outfit.

"no no. you don't understand. you need the perfect swimsuit!"

grace's voice ring throughout the tiny store at the beachfront and you're regretting telling her san's gonna be there at all. because now, she's dead set on impressing san and making sure you wow him tonight.

currently, she's trying to convince you to give in to a black two piece that has the bottom hiked so high up your waist with barely any coverage for the buttocks, you think your father would disown you if he sees you in it.

yeosang distracts himself by the glass and hat sections, leaving you girls to talk amongst yourselves, though he doesn't shy away from passing snide remarks because he knows you even better than grace and that you're shopping way out of your comfort zone.

"girl, i'm looking for clothes to swim in, not to seduce him," you say annoyingly when she won't give up.

"you don't know that!" she squeaks, giving the two piece another once over. "you're gonna look totally hot in it!"

"then buy it for yourself." you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. "i'm not wearing that in front of like what? 8 or something guys."

she frowns before dropping a loud, "fine!" placing the piece back on its rack and turning to you to mimick your posture. "you are such a pick me."

the comment makes you scoff, rolling your eyes at your best friend's antics.

"excuse you. just because i'm a lot more reserved and hesitant doesn't mean i want to be different or whatever society wants to paint us more shy girlies."

"yeah yeah," she brushes you off, waving in the air. the topic one you two already had one too many times. "but i won't need it for myself because i already brought a cute swimsuit from home."

"well that's great. then maybe we can just head back to the hotel," you say, delivery a type of sarcastic to play along but she clearly isnt very amused, pouting and scoffing at you the entire walk back.

"i don't wanna be the only one in a swimsuit!" she yells at you in the comfort of your hotel room, having came down a few minutes ago because she wanted to know what you're gonna wear.

but you dismiss and excuse her complaints with a roll of your eyes. "you'll be fine, grace. and even if, more power and attention to you."

little did you know you'd end up being the odd one out, finally showing up to the pool with your friends and seeing everyone in appropriate attire while you're out with a pair of gym shorts and a black t-shirt, having told your friends you're probably not gonna swim.

"hey guys!"

the voice just now belonging to hongjoong, who you recognize and remember the few occasions you happened to see him with yeosang. he's a year older and already graduated but is definitely the backbone of the group, yeosang said.

everyone already there greets all three of you, friendly smiles and welcoming body languages, the amount of people is quite overwhelming but you try your best to hide it, returning the gestures with a smile of your own.

some's sprawled on the lounge chairs, some already in the pool, and some sitting idly in the hot tub.

but you don't see him anywhere.

you didn't come for him in particular (if you did, you would've bought the two piece your friend so hard tried pushing). you came for your friend and the kindness of his other friend group, but your eyes do naturally search for him and you notice his absence immediately.

but you don't wanna ask. it just doesn't feel right to.

"well don't just stand there! get your butts in the pool!" wooyoung splashes the three of you as you flinch and instinctly try to protect the sketchbook you brought along in case your friends get pulled away by their extroverted activities and you don't have anything better to do.

"jung wooyoung! i'm gonna get you for that!" yeosang shouts, the boy's teasing doing exactly what he wanted as your friend jumps in the pool and chases after a giggly wooyoung.

grace chuckles beside you, pulling you by the wrist. "come on, let's go." but you're quick to stop and tell her you're gonna sit for a bit first.

she sighs but lets it go, threatening to get you wet and soak the sketchbook if you don't get in after a while.

you watch your friends and even if you're not the one having all the fun, the fact they look like they are makes you happy enough, shaking your head and giggling when you see grace and yeosang attempt to do a breath-holding contest or tries submerging the other's head into the water.

you made sure to choose the chair furthest from the pool because you don't want yeosang pulling anything funny.

a couple doodles and swimming competition between wooyoung and yeosang for the 4th time, the sudden voice in your ear makes the hair on your skin raise, flinching slightly to turn and meet his gaze.

he goes from expressionless to a smile that you almost want to poke his dimples for having the guts to show up this close.

and when he pulls away, asking what you're doing, you barely register his words because you're too busy trying to not drool over this man being shirtless and looking like the best art you've ever seen, making anything you've ever created pale in comparison.

but fortunately (or unfortunately), you don't get to dissect him for too long because you're more curious who the lady standing beside him is and why you haven't seen her before.

she's in a ruffle yellow swimsuit with sunglasses and a sunhat that goes perfectly with whatever aesthetic she was going for. and you think she looks like what grace probably had in vision for you when she wanted you to wow san.

"san! ashley! get over here!" you all snap to the call of hongjoong as he waves in the air from the pool, the water stopping at his armpit.

ashley.

"you coming with us?" san asks, his tone welcoming and inviting, but you're gonna sit this one out.

"i'm good," you answer with a small smile, and he quirks his lips to the side at that, dropping his shoulders at the answer before nodding.

"alright," he says. "but you can always join us whenever. if not, i hope you'll have fun," he refers to the sketchbook in your hands and you feel it sinking deep into your chest, a bit embarrassed by the fact but he just laughs it off.

"i'll see you," he bids, making his way to the others and guiding the new girl (to you) by the small of her back.

and you really try to focus on the sketch, your inspirations drawn from people, places, and things around you. the current sunset absolutely beautiful in its orange hue, but you can't miss the laughters and fun san is sharing with the new girl, and you don't miss how the more you're with this man, the more a type of longing blossoms.

how, everytime he's in sight, your eyes just naturally follows him. settles on him. like you just wanna look at him all day.

you shake the thoughts off, which becomes quite easy once yeosang and grace along with a couple others decides they're done for good, and seonghwa, the oldest of you all, suggests to end the night by sharing dinner together.

it's on him and hongjoong, he said.

the rooftop restaurant feels different this time in the company of others. you stick close to your friends and observe everyone else like a lost little puppy when you have nothing better to do.

it's loud and chaotic and you're struggling to keep up with everyone and everything, but you manage to catch the smile of san when grace starts going off about something embarrassing you did in freshmen year as revenge for not getting in the pool.

you shout and defend your name and dignity but it doesn't help much with yeosang jumping in, leading to a long night of teasing and bullying from your friends in the face of everyone as they laugh at the 'endearing' friendships you guys share.

and by the end of the night, you almost forgot about san or the fact you guys barely interacted. not until you're fresh out the shower and recovering your social battery that you get the first text from him in a while.

san: it's true the story your friend told?

you can't even help the chuckle that escapes, catching yourself and going on to reply.

y/n: 😭 i hate grace lmfao

san: it's okay😅 we all just casually poop our pants in the middle of the night

y/n: 🙄

san: kidding 😁

san: hey. i was thinking if you'd like to get breakfast together tomorrow?

san: im sorry we didn't get to talk a lot today. you looked so uncomfortable during dinner 😅

the comment flusters you, thinking about the fact san was watching and saw how out of place you really looked.

y/n: just not used to big crowds lol

san: i can see that

san: but it's okay. it'll just be us tmr 🙂

y/n: won't your friends be there?

san: nope. they dont like the food lol

san: how about urs? will they be coming?

y/n: most likely not. those two don't wake until almost noon

san: perfect lol. i'll see you then?

y/n: maybee 😀

and he probably didn't push too hard because it's almost like he knew you're gonna be there; waking up before it's even 7 and sitting at the same table from before, watching guests go in and out of the room hoping to catch the boy that sent you the text last night.

his face lights up the same as you when he enters, waving in the air and heading your direction, you really shouldn't feel so nervous but excited at the sight of him walking.

"hey!" he greets cheerfully, sliding into the seat across with a smile.

"good morning," you return, hands curled in your lap and happy he can't see them because you wonder what he'd think.

"how you'd sleep?" he ask the same time he combs over his morning hair, never in your life has someone looked so good doing so, you didn't even think it was possible.

"good," you manage to answer with composure. "and you?"

"alright." he shrugs. "wooyoung was just mostly drunk and annoying from last night's dinner."

a small giggle also laced with empathy escapes from you. "well i'm sorry to hear. i hope today will be better."

he nods. "hopefully." then realizing you haven't even gotten your food, talking in a concerned tone, "don't tell me you were waiting for me."

"i was," you say. "don't worry about it. i'm not that hungry. the dinner last night kept me filled plenty."

"if you say so..." he lingers a bit before continuing, "should we go now?"

"sure."

you also get close to the same thing you got last time, with the exception that they've switched out pancakes for waffles, getting a question from san after sitting down about your food choices.

"well, i really only eat korean foods," you tell him. "i'm not too fond of anything else besides what's on my plate right now."

"ahh. so you're a picky eater?"

"somewhat. that's why yeosang hates going out to eat with me."

san lets out a quiet snicker, something more mischievous bubbling in his eyes that you don't read into.

"you talk about yeosang a lot... does yours and his relationship ever bothers your other friend?" he asks, the question stopping you from sipping your coffee.

the friendly and harmless tone still in the air but you can't hide the fact the question flusters you a little.

"well, me and yeosang have known each other for a while... even before grace, so she understands that we don't see each other like that at all."

san quirks his lips and nods, taking your words for it.

"why?" you speak again. "do we give out that kind of vibe?" you ask worriedly, because you would never want to unintentionally (or intentionally) hurt grace in any ways. on your life you have never seen yeosang for more than the annoying middle schooler you couldn't get rid of.

but as san shakes his head, you feel a sense of relief, watching as a light smirk creep up on his face.

"just wondering," he says, so calmly but eerie at the same time, you can't quite grasp the intention. but then something else comes over, and you forget all about deciphering san's answer; not really wanting to but letting the intrusive thoughts win.

"and that girl you were with yesterday? you guys together?" you ask, no menance in your voice; just a natural curioisity because you wanna know... not for any reasons deeper.

"she's a friend," he answers fast and casual. "i know her from my previous school because we were under the same program and have similar interests and whatnot."

"i see," you mumble, a light smile anyone would've missed because you don't wanna admit to anyone why the fact brings you a sense of comfort.

but it doesn't cut it with grace.

"that's what they always say!" she cries dramatically, after storming into your room when she was finally done sleeping past noon and the events of yesterday hit her.

but you don't have any reasons to doubt san, even if you love your best friend and wanna take her words for it, you don't think it's fair to assume someone you barely know is trying to take your man that isn't really your man.

"for all you know, they could be fucking behind doors."

"grace!" you yell your friend's name at such accusation, your ears turning red at even the thought of it.

"sorry," she mutters, but barely meaning it, only shrugging off what needed to be said.

"i just don't want you to be hurt in the end," she says, voice a kind of sympathy you didn't even know you need.

because yes, you think san is handsome. he is kind and unusually attentive to you for whatever reasons, and seeing someone else by his side made your stomach queasy all for the wrong reasons... but you don't feel justified in feeling a certain way just because your friend says you should.

you're not with him and you still don't even know if you wanna be with him.

“trust me, grace,” you assure her, a confident smile settling on your lips that she only frowns to. “i’ll be fine.”

and as much as she wants to believe it, it’s hard not to doubt knowing the way you are.

how, though you’ve navigated through life barely getting romantically involved with boys, it wouldn’t be difficult for someone like san to get you wrapped around his fingers if he wants to.

the guy way too charming; how he just casually checks all criteria from looks to personality, the girl herself rooting for you and him initially, but quickly rethinking the choice after last night.

yet, you don't let what your friend says get to you. or at least you try not to, but it's loud and it bothers you through the day... if someone as likeable as san would be able to hurt you.

if he could lie and deceive you and not even feel bad about it.

but when he pops by your side at night; yours and his friend group having the want to go clubbing, and he stays with you almost entirely, neglecting the girl grace said you should be worried about, you can't even remember why you doubted him in the first place.

not when he'd ask questions about you all night long as if he really wants to know you, so interested in the arts and work you do and accompanying you when everyone else is busy enjoying themselves.

and especially when he'd get breakfast with you every morning until the trip is over, a part of you glad but another saddened by the fact because you know you won't get to see him everyday anymore.

you'll have to go back to the old routine of working and assignments, no more butterflies or feelings of tightness in your chest and stomach, uncertain when you're gonna even get to see or talk to him again.

but one thing you know for sure, is that by the end of summer, you're positive you like choi san.

you're positive you like san, because every time your phone rings with a notification, you can't help but wish it's him--replying to a meme you've sent a few hours ago, or asking how your day has been.

that when grace commented on how your art style has changed, as if they've been pulled and inspired by someone or something, she wasn't just trying to tease you.

grace also being the same person to explain the feelings in your chest and stomach, and why your breath is taken away each time whenever you see him.

even if she was skeptical a few months ago and yelling in your face he's gonna hurt you, seeing the way he is around you has calmed her mind to some extent.

the way he actually treats you with interests and and respect, listening and nodding when you talk and asking you about everything, managing to convince your friend somewhat he might take a liking to you and that you won't come out of this wounded.

he's even become closer with yeosang; the craziness of just how different but also alike these two are, able to carry a conversation on for hours and making grace and you feel forgotten.

"so you guys are coming, right?" san asks the three of you in a corner of the library, quick to associate the spot with you and your friends after asking about your whereabouts one day.

"uh--"

"of course!" yeosang beats you to it, both you and grace narrowing your eyes at the boy in the middle. "we wouldn't wanna miss it."

grace sneers and throws yeosang another look.

"right, because the other two parties where you made a clown show of yourself wasn't enough." she shakes her head and lowers it back to her notebook, mumbling under her breath, "i'm not babysitting."

yeosang pouts immediately, putting on an act and a voice to go with it that makes you wanna throw a punch his way.

"babe, please..."

"no."

"it'd be the last college party before we graduate."

"no."

then he turns to you and hopes you'll take pity.

"y/n?"

you fume under your nose and follow grace as you start scribbling so he gets the hint, because you also don't wanna go to this party. even if wooyoung's the one throwing it and you're all gonna be graduating soon.

you'd rather just end your college career in peace.

"san's going so you're already automatically going anyway," yeosang says, losing his patience and throwing you under the bus to be petty, receiving a kick to his ankle from under the table in return.

"you really should think about coming," san brings it up one more time on the walk to your next class, after leaving the lovebirds in the library to talk it out between them.

you come to a stop when you've both reached the building, standing before him with your textbook curled in your arms and quirking your lips to the side.

"i'll think about it, but if grace don't wanna come, yeosang probably won't."

"why not come by yourself?" he suggests, like it's the easiest thing in the world. but he knows you well at this point, adding, "i know it's probably scary going without your friends, but trust me, you won't be alone. i'll be there so you won't ever have to worry about it." he smiles.

and his words. his body language. his smile. they all come off so sincere and genuine, you just wanna believe him and everything he says.

that he won't ever hurt you. make you feel inadequate and question everything about yourself, because liking someone isn't supposed to feel painful and it isn't supposed to make your heart ache.

but when you show up to the party without your friends, the people you recognize doesn't do anything to ease your anxiety, especially when the number pales in comparison to people you don't recognize.

and by now, you're more than sure you like san because despite his efforts to make you feel welcomed and comfortable amongst the sea of strangers he knows scares you, it doesn't matter when the girl beside him makes you feel uneasy all night.

when butterflies and a beating heart are replaced by the wish to run, liking someone is no longer fun.

"what! you are such a liar!" ashley squeaks with a giggle, pushing san's shoulder lightly in a friendly banter. the kind that makes you feel like you're intruding and disrupting something confidential by following san all night like a lost puppy.

"no! i'm forreal," san defends himself from the girl's teasing, his cheeks flushing pink even in the bad kitchen lighting.

"you were messing with her!"

he chuckles and you're wondering why you're still even here--or how the conversation of san and another girl not you or ashley even started.

"i promise, we were just friends," he says.

ashley shakes her head, smirking the same time she drinks from the cup in her hand, and when she looks san in the eye, she isn't just the girl san's friend with anymore.

because if grace were to yell in your face again about this girl and all the reasons you should be worried, you would agree with her.

even if you still don't feel justified... you like san now, and you can't help but think she's a threat.

"cute, isn't he?" she turns to you, her gaze burning and making you feel small on the spot. her confidence something she walks with proudly and with an aura you hate yourself for even admiring, "but unfortunately a hard one to tie down."

her words and tone cryptic, you can only blink as you try to digest what she said just now and if it was meant to be a dig at you.

you clear your throat, not feeling any bigger with the volume but excusing yourself either way to use the restroom.

just sit in there and think of any excuses in order to get out of here, regretting not staying with yeosang and grace to watch alice in borderland for the 5th time while eating wingstop.

because if you did, you wouldn't be feeling this way. out of place and with the boy you like slipping right by the palm of your hand.

your phone buzzing in your lap takes the moment away, looking down to see the one person you wanna hear from, even if he's also responsible for the doubts in your head.

san: hey. you good?

san: im outside the bathroom. i don't wanna knock though bc im scared it might not be you in there lol

you don't respond, instead going to open the door even if you should be contemplating about a valid reason to go home, chest and face nearly knocking into him, you can only gulp.

"hey." he smiles.

"hey," you mumble, wondering if he can even hear especially with the amount of bodies littering the hallway, but he does judging by the reaction.

"you okay?" he asks, voice concerned the way it always is.

"yeah..." you answer, your stance so awkward. "just needed some space." you try laughing it off, to which he returns one much to your relief.

"i see. well, should we go somewhere quieter? with less people?"

"actually..." your volume simmers, afraid he's gonna take it the wrong way. "i was thinking of going home."

he stares at you a second too long before responding with a simple "oh." the wheels going off in his head until an idea comes over. "that's fine. i can take you home."

"no, you're good. yeosang said he'd pick me up when i'm ready."

"no, let me. i want to. plus, i invited you so it's only fair."

and you weren't gonna argue with him; not when he was already pulling out his keys and telling you to follow him out the house and into his car.

"aren't you a little drunk?" you tease, after watching him pull at the seatbelt.

"a little." he smirks, turning to you. "but i'm good for the most part. i didn't drink that much."

right. because he was mostly engaged and immersed in conversations and banters that you weren't a part of, with the girl you're still wondering what happened to.

"where did your friend go?" you ask, as casually as possible.

"ashley? she got pulled away by some pool table game wooyoung they wanted to play."

you just nod, though the many unanswered questions about this friend bothers you, moving to look ahead and admire the size of wooyoung's house the same time san starts the engine. and that's when you realize, this might be the first time you and san are actually alone.

without hotel guests, nosy friends, partygoers, or people that frequents the cafe, but more importantly--without being behind the screens of your phones.

"the university's dorms, correct?"

"correct."

as he drives you back to the place, he can't stop asking questions.

"how'd you like it there?"

"pretty good. i have all i need, and the best part is i get to room with grace, so."

he sends a small smile your way in midst of driving, and you think he looks so attractive doing so. his hands on the wheel and his relaxed stance as he listens attentively like the boyfriend you never had.

"that's great," he says, coming to a stop at a red light, looking your way immediately. "that's a nice outfit by the way. i can't believe i didn't tell you earlier."

and you really wanna blush and grow shy at the fact he pays you this much attention, but you really just giggle instead.

"well thanks. you look pretty great yourself."

he steps on the gas at the green and scoffs but the corner of his lips pulling into a small smile.

"you're just saying that to say it."

you wanna tell him he don't even know how much you mean it. how unbelievable it is-- the fact he just walks around looking like that all the time.

but you chuckle it off and you're sure he's just playing with you, the drive weaving through the fall weather and city lights as an air of fresh and relief come over, you can't believe you were so apprehensive not even 40 minutes ago back at wooyoung's party.

"here we are," he says, pulling into the dorm's parking lot you had to help him find.

"thanks," you tell him. "i appreciate it."

"no problem," he replies, a silence lingering after and an expression on his face that something's clearly bothering him. "hey..."

"yeah?"

"i'm sorry about tonight... if anything made you uncomfortable."

you only smile, though the reminder makes your heart heavy with today's events, you're happy he noticed and care.

it seems to just be how he is; eyes and ears always attentive and sometimes a little too curious.

"it's okay," you assure. because even if you are upset, it doesn't feel like you have the rights to. as if you're just making all of this up in your head to ruin the night. "i think it was mostly because yeosang and grace wasn't there," you lie.

"i understand. would've been a lot better if they had made it."

"yeah, but it's okay. you going back after dropping me off?"

he nods. "i have to, unfortunately. wooyoung would want me to."

you hum lowly in acknowledgment, your legs closed together and your throat tight all of a sudden.

"well i hope you'll have fun the rest of the night. i'm sorry i couldn't stay longer."

"i'll try to," he says, a quiet giggle leaving. "won't be the same without you but probably should've picked a better place, you know."

"it's all good," you say with a smile, head whipping around to the darkly lit dorm building and its entrance. "i should probably get going."

"should i walk with you?"

you look at him while unbuckling your seatbelt, shaking your head. "i got it. i'd rather you get back to your friends."

he opens his mouth to say something but quickly takes it back, trying again.

"hey," he says so softly, you can almost melt into the look in his eyes, staring at you with blinking lashes.

"yeah?"

"so i thought this was really nice, you know... the car ride and all." he stops for a second to find his words. "i was wondering if you'd like to do it again? i think the cafe's nice, but this is a good change of scenery."

and you wonder if san can hear the beating of your heart especially in the quiet of his car, but you quickly pick yourself up to answer, "i'd love to do this again." you smile, and san returns one.

"perfect. i'll text you."

"i look forward."

which is why even if you didn't have the greatest of time; most of the night spent in self-doubts and regrets, you also don't beat yourself up for what he could be doing after he dropped you off.

what he's doing at the party or who he's having fun with, because afterall, he asked you out.

said it with a sweet look in his eyes and a tone to match, you'd rather look forward to what went right than what didn't; sleeping under your sheet in the dark of the night, sacrificing any uncertainty for restful sleep.

"these fries are way too salty."

you listen to san complains, his posture relaxed but face scowling at the fast food he just shoved down his throat a few seconds ago.

a laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head, munching on the fries you protested on getting, but san way too stubborn to convince otherwise.

"you're right. maybe we should've gotten burgers," he says, looking at you and placing the food back in the bag. "never again."

"maybe," you mutter with a quiet giggle.

san had texted you exactly two days after the party, the reminder cracking the biggest smile on your face that grace took notice to and immediately wanted to know the cause of.

"it's totally a date!" your friend says, squealing after you tell her of why you wanna blush just now.

"it's not a date."

she sighs and rolls her eyes, prying your phone right from your hand that gets you up from the bed to fight her.

"he even put a smiling emoji. what else would that mean!?" she continues squeaking and dodging your attempts, until you manage to snatch it back.

"i think he's just being nice."

he picked you up, asked for suggestions on what to eat (and didn't listen), and paid for everything before pulling into the parking lot of a store opened 24 hours.

"so..." he starts speaking, hands cleared of salt from the fries and now looking at you through his car's lighting. "excited to graduate soon?"

you nod. "of course. and you?"

"for sure," he answers, attention pulled away to the front merely before meeting your eyes again. "any plans yet?"

"not much luck. kind of figure i'll think about that after," you answer with a dry chuckle. your bleak future not something to laugh about, but it's a way of coping. "you?"

and you asked out of pure curiosity and interest, but at the way his face falls, you would've thought you insulted him. watching his eyes go dark and almost nervous, the atmosphere shifting when he just sits in silence for too long.

"sorry," you mumble apologetically, bringing light to his eyes once more when he just shakes his head.

"no, you're good. i'm sorry. i was just thinking."

"it's okay," you assure, "if it's still something you're thinking of."

"yeah." he smiles, the act almost forced, but you try to not linger on the thought. why he tends to shut down when you ask too many questions and want to know too much... the same he does to you.

"hey," he attempts to revive the atmosphere he was responsible for killing. "can i ask you something?"

you tilt your head slightly at that, placing the empty bag of fries back where it came from and nodding in response.

"we talked about this briefly, but i really wanna know how you felt about the party. you didn't look like you enjoyed it at all." and it wasn't because yeosang nor grace were there.

you swallow, unprepared for the topic to make it back around, but answering with honesty to the best of your ability; just slightly leaving out what really shattered your confidence that night.

"it's just hard for me in general to really enjoy myself in that kind of setting." though you tried and was having some fun, until you weren't.

"i understand, and i appreciate you for trying. i just still feel bad for pulling you along when it was clearly out of your comfort zone, so i have to make sure."

it's the way he speaks and acts, always asking about you and caring about your wellbeing more than he should--that makes it hard to want to be upset when he doesn't want you to do the same in return.

when he closes himself off, always with the invisible barrier you shouldn't cross because he doesn't wanna tell you more than what you should know.

"it's just more so i also didn't really know anyone there. everyone else were occupied, and you were uh... talking to your friend," you say, mumbling the last part because you think you might be pushing it, but san doesn't seem fazed. he just shifts in his spot.

"yeah," he answers coolly, "hard to get her to stop talking once she starts." a light smile curls up at his lips and you try to not let it bother you.

but it's like he can read your thoughts; knows exactly the concerns running through your head and the apprehension overtaking your face when he spits the next sentence, "there's nothing going on between us, if that's what you're wondering. when i said she's a friend, i mean it."

and you don't know whether to be relieved or embarrassed he knows you a little too well.

"though she did like me at one point, that's the past," he adds, searching you for any signs of a reaction, and he gets one he also knows too well.

when your lips goes into a pout and your eyes swell with a type of curioisity in them, eager to poke your nose where it doesn't belong.

"and did you... like her back?" you ask timidly, knowing it isn't your ground but unable to help it.

san's snicker leaves you in confusion, and even more when he just shrugs.

"we're better off as friends. that's what matters."

the answer doesn't lessen the knot in your stomach nor does it bring you any form of relief, even if san doesn't particularly owe you any.

"what's with the face?" his voice snaps you out of your thought and to puppy eyes and blinking lashes staring right back almost mocking you as if he knows exactly what's making you so upset right now.

"nothing," you say, faking a smile. "just thinking."

but there's a shift in atmosphere again, whether you and san wanna acknowledge it or not. something tense that makes you a little on edge, but in a way different from before--the food and drinks and being parked in a public space forgotten at this point.

"have you ever been in a relationship before?" he asks abruptly, the question making you swallow the tension as you try your best to keep the composure.

"i've been in one," you answer, not disappointing him when you return the question, "how about you?"

he smirks, one eyebrow raising when he simply says, "two."

"two?" you repeat, voice raising like you don't believe it. "you look like you'd have a lot more experience."

the comment makes him laugh, his body falling and head thumping against the car seat while his gaze never leaves you.

"what makes you think that?" he says, the smirk once again creeping to his lips as he stares at you in amusement, the scene and tension having switched up so fast, you don't even remember when it ever felt like this in the presence of san.

when all friendliness and formality were gone and replaced by something else that makes you wanna be bolder and get closer to him.

you shrug lightly. "guess it's the way you carry yourself." that makes it so hard to believe.

"either way, if i'm gonna get into a relationship with someone, i have to know them well first and i'd have to be sure it's something i want."

you nod in agreement, though san never particularly striked you as the type to think so much about these kind of things... but again, you feel he's also just barely letting you into a certain part of him he haven't ever.

"that's fair. i would agree," you say, only to a chuckle from him that makes you squint in confusion. "what?"

both his hands are now behind his head and he's looking so entertained for whatever reason.

"you just seem more like the kind to go out of your way to avoid any romantic interactions," he says, giggling after with dimples you can't even admire because you're more flustered by the comment.

"it's more like... i find those things hard unless i'm attracted to someone," you clarify even if you know he's right to an extent, "and it's not often i am attracted to someone, so."

and how funny that when you finally are, he's sitting right across from you with a smirk and unaware of how he's making you feel just being in the same perimeter--or so you think.

"the first guy i was with, i always found intimacy difficult... especially kissing," you add, unsure if you're stepping over the line but you and san are old enough for this.

you're sure he even enjoys it, if the mirth in his eyes and the widest smile on his face says anything.

"maybe you didn't like him that much?" he suggests, tone thrilled like it's some form of fun guessing game. "or he was probably just a sloppy kisser."

"no, like... he was good but i was the one who couldn't kiss for shit," you defend your ex's name, feeling like you have to because he wasn't a bad guy.

"i see," he mumbles, the smirk settling into a soft smile. "at least it was enjoyable for you."

"yeah," you answer, the conversation getting so much more awkward for you. "how was your first kiss like?"

"it was okay." he was anticipating such response by how fast he replied. "it was both of our first time and i did it at the time because i really thought she was the one, but funny to think about it now."

there's a quick silence after as you just stare, the next question already at the tip of your tongue.

"and did you also thought the same for your second relationship?"

he nods to it, gaze now locking yours right back and the even longer silence makes you think he's gonna kiss you. with only the two of you in the car and the moon high in the sky, it's the perfect setup.

but instead, he takes you back to the dorms after moving on and forgetting about the whole conversation and drops you off with a sweet and friendly smile.

he doesn't kiss you. not this time or any others when he could've.

even if it would've been nice if he did. if he was sure it was something he wanted, and that you were the one. but it's okay, because you've convinced yourself that being with him is enough.

happy and content he still sends good morning texts, and still wants to hang out once in a while. that he still comments under your instagram posts that happens once in a blue moon, and he still sends you stupid memes.

because you're just the slightest afraid that if you try pushing your feelings onto him, he might not wanna do any of those things anymore.

so you keep him close; even if not in the way you really want, he's still beside you. that's what matters.

"he likes you, y/n!" grace preaches while pacing back and forth.

you were just enjoying your day off and with a book in your hand when your roommate and best friend came back from a date--with the first thing on her mind somehow being you and san.

"he doesn't," you answer, annoyed at this point and already having put down the book after losing your place at least three times due to her.

"no." she pouts and plops down on her bed facing you. "i've seen the way he looks and act around you. my instinct has a 90% accuracy."

seen how san's eyes would always linger on you whenever you're in the room, and having caught the smiles that would usually decorate his lips when you do something clumsy or endearing.

going above and beyond to do and say things that if yeosang was to do and say to another girl, she'd drag him by the ear and make him sleep outside.

but the statement's only met with an eyeroll from you.

"your instinct said san and ashley were fucking and they weren't, so?"

"that was the other 10%," your friend yaps, calming one second after. "i want you to just trust me on this one. if he doesn't like you, he wouldn't do what he does for you."

but you just can't help but to grow more irritated even if it's done out of good intentions. you're already frustrated and confused and grace isn't helping.

"maybe because he's just a nice person in general," you tell her, never having witnessed san be rude and unkind to anyone ever.

your friend sighs, her shoulders dropping but still wanting to encourage and give you some form of hopes because she knows how much you like san. how much you wish he'd ask you out.

"he might be just as scared of rejection or messing up the friendship," she says, then pauses because it's gonna be out of your comfort zone but you have to try. "why don't you ask him out?"

your eyes go wide and you cringe at even the thought of it, telling your friend she's crazy for even thinking of it.

san doesn't like you and you're sure of that.

if he did, he probably would've told you by now, and he would've kissed you all those times when he had the chance. when it was just you and him in his car, in your dorm room, and back at the restaurant.

so you didn't plan on telling him, because you didn't think you could like san even more than you already did.

like him so much to the point that keeping it in was actually painful; when it felt like the only form of relief was to tell him.

at least not until spring again.

"what are you doing?" san's voice pulls your eyes from the sketch and to his face as he stares at you amusingly, your posture incredibly funny to him since you're trying to hide what you're working on.

feet planted on the cushion of the cafe's chair and elbows on your knees with your sketchbook just below your eyes, gawking and peeking at him for the last hour or so.

"i'm making art," you tell him, a giggle bubbling out after that san shakes his head to.

spring has returned. the petals once again fallen from the cherry blossom trees with the wind carrying it away in the streets as the cold chill from winter quiets down even if you still shiver and need a sweater.

you and san are seated at the same table in the corner and he's currently watching the spring show, his eyes following lone petals when they're still attached to the root until they become nothing but scatters on the streets.

his grey hoodie and sharp features a sight to see, especially when it's next to a big glass window with a view to match, though you think san is more beautiful. more than any spring blossoms or art.

feelings of butterflies and a fast heartbeat now replaced by something else--not that you still don't get them once in a while, but everything feels more natural. comfortable.

you find yourself caring for him in ways you usually didn't before. whether he ate, slept, or is genuinely feeling okay--you wanna know and hear all about it.

when he's happy, you're happy with him. but when he's sad or dejected, you also can't help but to feel the same. the last couple of months a ride of events that really tested just how strong the bond and friendship between you and san really is; never would you have predicted you'd grow to care so much about anyone else besides yeosang and grace.

"you shouldn't really be doodling. instead, use the time wisely to really think about what you wanna submit for the exhibition," he says, arms now crossed and eyes away from the window.

"don't worry. i already got an idea," you assure, a playful smile on your lips.

among other things san has helped you with, he was the biggest advocator in you entering the student art exhibition that will be taking place shortly just after the end of the semester.

you've always felt self conscious putting your work out, always choosing and picking carefully even when it came to posting on social media. and even then, your account is privated so only those close to you could see.

art is the only thing you've ever felt truly good at, letting your creations define you more than necessarry, and you're so afraid you'll be told one day that what you do and love isn't good enough.

"i want to but i'm also really not sure," you say, in the peace of the library with san across; the distress and conflict on your face as clear as day.

"why not?" san frowns. "i've seen your work. they're good enough to go in a museum, y/n."

the compliment makes you roll your eyes the same time you let out a scoff. "you're just saying that."

he shakes his head. "i'm so forreal. you're the best artist i know."

"i'm the only artist you know."

"that's not true. i also know uh... leonardo da vinci."

you laugh at that. "but i don't have an artwork worth at least 800 million, so unfortunately i am not better."

"i really don't think the mona lisa's all that great. any of your work would blow it out of the water easy."

there's a second of silence before you start laughing again, prompting san to giggle in return, but he starts, "i'm serious. you should really do it. plus, you'll be graduating soon. i think it's a great opportunity."

"when is it again?" he ask.

"june the 18th," you say, placing your sketchbook and pen down. "you'll be there, right?"

he nods at first, a simple smile settling on him. "of course," he answers, "i'll be there. i promise."

and as the day goes on, sitting in the comfort of the cafe with san as you continue the sketch you started and he occasionally switches between sipping his coffee and the assignment on his laptop, it gets harder to ignore the even stranger feeling that encloses you almost completely.

when the blooming of flowers and trees are fresh, along with the soft, gentle breeze of spring--you think you might be in love with san.

it seemed like it was just yesterday that you were talking graduation with yeosang and grace, but not even a year later, it's become a reality with your cap and gown sitting on your bed and the graduation ceremony merely a week away.

you think, even if with barely any plans after but to move back with your father and see where life takes you, you're still excited.

excited for the next step and for what's to come.

but san on the other hand, never seems too thrilled whenever you bring it up.

you know him to be an open person, always willing to talk about anything and everything; not a single mean bone in this man, except when it comes to talking about himself.

who he really is and who he wants to be after... he never wants to talk about it, so you try to not push it. be understanding and figure that maybe he isn't ready, yet.

that when he wants to tell you and wants you to know, he will.

but it's been a year since you've known him, and with each passing day, what you feel for him only grows gradually; so much that being friends just doesn't cut it anymore.

the feeling of love both exciting but also suffocating, you didn't even know.

you don't mind being friends with him, but staying that way means stopping what could be, and for some reason, the confidence that san feels the same also grows with every moment spent with him.

you didn't use to think so. dismissed grace's "instinct" and all that, chalking it up to san's natural personality to be kind and treat everyone with respect. but you started to see what she was talking about a while ago. you'd like to believe it.

how he's been a lot more touchy and sentimental these past few days; a look always in his eyes like apprehension that you can't quite read into but know something's on his mind. like he wanna say and tell you about it but can't.

then when he texts you the day just before graduation, asking if you two can talk later on in the evening, you certainly feel like this is it.

that he didn't do all of those things for you just to be nice or to be a friend. why else would he had asked to talk if it isn't something significant that he couldn't annouce through text?

you enter san's car that evening with a beating heart and a tight stomach, feeling so nervous and sick, you feel the food you ate just an hour ago coming back up.

and though it's a scene you're all too familiar with--you and san in the parking lot of the university's dorm building, there's an air in tonight's meeting you can't quite gauge.

something tense that makes the both of you sit in silence for a few seconds too long, nervousness gnawing at you once more while you start to doubt if the same is what's causing the current discomfort on san's face.

"hey," you start, trying to lighten the atmosphere that has gotten so awkward already, and you haven't even confessed. "how has your day been?"

he finally lifts his head up to look at you, his hands off the steering wheel and settling on his lap as he try to smile forcefully, you can tell.

"it was good, yeah..." he answers, tone dull and tired, you wonder if maybe he didn't get enough sleep. "you?" he asks in return but it doesn't sound like any other times.

like he didn't ask because he's genuinely interested, but because he has to.

"it was also good. yeah..."

you swallow down the knot in your throat, another long silence engulfing the car as you and san listen to footsteps and chitters of students having just arrived.

"i have something to tell you," you both say and turn to each other at the same time, the scary coincidence of the timing has both your eyes wide as echoes of giggles let loose temporarily.

despite the unpredictability of the other person and the possible turmoil after, you both can laugh for now.

"you go first," he says, nodding his chin your direction and sitting with a beating heart just a tad lower than yours that to you, fills your ears and the entire car.

you take a deep breath, your fingers naturally finding each other in moments of distress and finally uttering the words you've been wanting to tell him for a few months now.

"san, w-we've known each other for about a year now and i know this might be dramatic of me, b-but you're probably the best thing to happen to me," you speak so fast, another habit of yours when under pressure, barely looking him in the eyes to even notice the look in them, "and, and... i think what i wanna say is i like you. i really really like you and i wanna tell you that."

and when you finally level his eyes again, so relieved it's out now, but when you only see the cold, indifferent reaction, nothing like you predicted, you fear the worst.

and when san breaks your heart for the first time, you know you messed up majorly.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, almost murmuring and keeps his head down as if ashamed to say such thing, "really really sorry."

messed up by letting feelings get in the way of a wonderful friendship with a wonderful person, and let his act of kindness get to your head because how could san ever possibly feel the same?

"no. i'm sorry," you say, volume barely above a whisper and voice between crying and staying strong in front of him. "i-i shouldn't have said that."

"no. it's okay. don't feel bad," he tries assuring in his usual calm and collected tone, but even he knows you don't believe him. but he means it, because he has way more to feel bad and be sorry for. "it's just..."

he can hardly look you in the eyes, your expression of heartbreak and guilt something he should be going through instead.

"i'm gonna be leaving in two days."

it suddenly feels like the world stopped at the drop of those words. your chest constricting and your breath hard to catch, the rejection nothing compared to the realization.

the hard reality that you're gonna be losing san. one moment as if he's right in front of you, you could almost grab him, and the next he's slipping right out of your grasp. just like that.

loving someone is such a horrible, awful feeling.

"w-where to?" you ask, the crack in your voice makes san wince and he can't wait for the night to be over with. for him, and for you.

"seoul, south korea," he answers lowly, pausing before adding, "that's what i wanted to tell you tonight."

and suddenly, everything makes sense. like having found pieces of puzzles you couldn't ever; it all hits you at once.

the first time you met him.

“i went into it because the people around me said i was good at it,” he says, a bit unfazed and dull. “that’s pretty much it, i guess.” and ending it with a smile when he catches your gaze again.

“but do you enjoy it?”

there’s a quick silence and san tilts his head slightly, quirking his lips to the side before answering.

“it’s not bad. if anything, it’s been easy, so i’m glad for that at least.”

you nod, smiling in return.

“that’s good. only one more year and we’ll be done.”

"yeah," he says, letting out a loose chuckle after. "i can't wait. there's something i want to do after, but for now, we'll have to see what happens."

the party.

“cute, isn’t he?” she turns to you, her gaze burning and making you feel small on the spot. her confidence something she walks with proudly and with an aura you hate yourself for even admiring. “but unfortunately a hard one to tie down.”

and all those times he'd dodge your questions and never want to answer anything concerning what it is he actually wants to do, or even how he grew up.

simply because san never planned to stay.

he was always meant to go after... even if he got to know you. he never wanted to be anything more with you.

you can't help the sense of betrayal that blooms from deep within, never wanting to have any ill feelings toward san but the hurt is so strong, you don't remember a time in your life you've ever felt this way before.

being mislead for so long and kept hidden in the dark. but even then, you can't seem to bring yourself to hate him.

a tear pricks your eye and you attempt to wipe it away, voice hoarse when you speak again, "that's what you always wanted to do, right?"

san just nods, unable to see him clearly through the tears multiplying and his gaze that has turned away.

"hey," you say, a soft call that san responds to, his fox eyes staring back that you're gonna miss. "i hope it goes well." you smile, a mixture of bitter and sweet.

"i know it will," you say once more, swallowing the knot dying in your throat and searching san for any reactions.

maybe you don't know who he was before or who he's gonna be after, but you know him right now. the boy you met a year ago and made you feel so many things; butterflies down to heartbreak--who, you're still so madly in love with, you don't even have it in you to wish him anything but well.

why would you wanna keep him in the small palms of your hands when there's a world out there much bigger waiting for him. a world that could make him so much happier and content.

you would never be upset about that.

when it looks like san isn't gonna say anything, his mind continuously in thought but lips unable replicate, you're the one to break the tension yet again, figuring he just needs time.

even if he's had time... to prepare all of this and for what he was gonna say, yet he's drawing nothing but blanks in the actual presence of you.

"i should uh, i should probably go," you announce when the silence sits for too long. "graduation is tomorrow and grace wants to wake up early in preparation."

he nods just as he's done cowardly before.

"i'll see you there?" your voice squeaks slightly for the first time tonight; some kind of hope and excitement in them.

you don't know whether he nods or hum, or if he even answers. just a vagueness to his expression that you take for a yes, because why wouldn't he be.

but if you knew at the time, that when you go to search for the familiar head of black in the crowd during the ceremony and you wouldn't find him, you would have said more

if you knew that even during the celebration after; a restaurant across the streets your friends wanted to go to, that he still isn't gonna come, you would've stayed longer last night.

tell him everything and wish him all the good in the world... if you knew that was the last time you would see him.

act like you're not constantly checking the door of the restaurant in hope he'd show up even for one last time so you won't feel so dejected and have all of yeosang, grace, and wooyoung look at you with pity.

say you're just tired and continue acting like your heart didn't do a flip at the drop of his name when yunho asks about his whereabouts and wooyoung tells the group he's busy packing for tomorrow morning.

none of them seem to be aware he was leaving, besides wooyoung and your friends (for obvious reasons).

hold back your tears and attempt to not crack when you finally get wooyoung to yourself, telling him if he could give something to san.

something you've been planning to for a while but wanted to wait till it was finished, and when it was, you kind of forgot about it. until suddenly.

assure wooyoung it's okay when he tells you he's told san on plenty of occasions he needed to let you know.

and finally, when you get back to the dorms, you allow yourself to cry in grace's arms but also assuring her you're gonna be okay and she doesn't need to stay up with you

when it's past midnight, hugging your knees on edge of your bed in the dark watching as the trees sways outside the window, you wonder if this was how your uncle and mother felt.

why your uncle decided to move halfway across the country and leave everything he knew behind just for love, and why your mother still married your father despite everything against them.

a part of you finally starting to understand all the sacrifices and compromises yeosang and grace makes.

love is so strange.

you give into the events of today and curl up in bed, pulling the blanket over and closing your eyes.

before the blooming of flowers and trees, and the soft, gentle breeze of spring could even pass, san leaves you.

a month later

"don't be so nervous. you look great."

grace turns you by the shoulders to the mirror and you can hardly recognize yourself. the short black satin dress hugging your body and skin adorned in jewelries that doesn't even belong to you, nor are the heels on your feet.

you really didn't even think you'd be going, let alone have your work accepted for the exhibition among hundreds of other submissions.

have your work out in the open and on display for people other than your friends to see and judge. it's nerve-racking, but grace think you should at least dress for the occasion.

"yeosang said he'll be here in 15," she tells you.

you're nervous just sitting around, and even more so on the way to the gallery, the awful music yeosang has blasting not helping a bit.

"cookie points to whoever finds y/n's art first," grace says from the front, her lips turning upward as she challenges her boyfriend.

"that's easy. we can probably see the watercolor and blue from a mile away," he teases, prompting grace to smack him lightly by the arm; his comment making a scoff leave your mouth.

they don't know what you submitted. you didn't want them to, saying you wanted to really surprise them and get an honest opinion as it was the piece you probably took the longest on and put the most thoughts to.

the arrival doesn't make you feel any better, more cars than you predicted lined up at the front and in the parking lot, you have to take a deep breath.

"hey," yeosang says, his head peeking over the car seat with a small smile, "tonight's gonna be great. you go in there and get familiar with everyone and we'll meet you soon?"

you nod, unbuckling your seatbelt and undoing the wrinkles on your dress, ready to head out.

"good luck!" grace squeals just before you're out the car, waving to your friends as they grow further away to find parking.

you've been here a couple times before but never for your own work, of course. making way inside and glad that the first face you see is one of your professors from a class you had, his smile welcoming and you keep yourself close until it's time for the showcase, your natural tendency to stick close to people you know.

you finally spot your friends halfway into it, the two shamelessly standing in front of your work and shooting you looks they know is gonna make you flush in embarrassment.

the night goes on and that feeling of nervousness and anxiety easing the more other students also talk to you and compliments your work with you doing the same in return because everyone here is truly talented.

each and every artwork telling a different story and probably held closely by the artists themselves.

"see! that wasn't so bad," grace says, having ran to you the second you're free from the circle of students and professors, pushing you playfully by the shoulder and getting a giggle in response.

"i guess so."

"by the way, love the art!" she squeaks, so much happier and excited than you.

"and it definitely wasn't because your name was written on top that we knew, but your style is just too distinct," yeosang adds, "only thing different this time is it's pink."

you smile, the process of having to come up with something you'll be okay with everyone else seeing all coming back. how, it took a while, but once you knew, you wanted it to be as perfect as possible.

the pink cherry blossom tree next to a body of lake and the field next to it decorated in countless dandelions, all painted in the style you're best at--the watercolor really bringing life to the picture.

it's not often you can say you're proud of your own creations, but you can say you really like this one.

"well thanks, guys," you tell them, a laugh bubbling out at the end. "really appreciate you two coming out tonight."

"well, duh." grace rolls her eyes dramatically, her lips turning to a smile after. "we know this means a lot to you."

"for sure," yeosang says, checking the surrounding briefly before continuing, "you should probably finish up things here with everyone else first. me and grace are gonna head out to a shop nearby and we'll come pick you up when you're ready?"

"yeah. i probably should." because seeing the rest of the students and professors stuck in conversations, it doesn't seem right to just up and leave. you need a proper farewell at least. "i'll let you guys know."

you spend the next couple of minutes out of courtesy attempting to talk to anyone you could until the place mostly start clearing of visitors.

saying one last farewell to the professor you're most familiar with, you turn a corner to head out with the plan to call yeosang when you're stopped in your track by a figure suddenly emerging from the walls and now in your way.

when you meet his gaze and take in the fact he's dressed for the occasion, the suit he's wearing clad onto his body too perfectly (though when does he not look good in anything), you almost want to be angry it looks like he planned to come here tonight.

"san..." his name falls off your lips. a name you haven't said since a month ago and didn't plan to any time sooner.

"hey," he greets, awkwardly and quietly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants that shows off his legs you didn't even realize were so long.

but you're mostly just thinking and wondering why he's here. he isn't supposed to be here. he left a month ago to go chase his dreams, so why is he all of sudden standing in front of you in such a small gallery.

"w-what are you doing here?" you ask, no anger or pain in your voice though he thinks there should be; only curiosity the way you always sound.

"i promise i'd come, remember?"

“when is it again?” he ask.

“june the 18th,” you say, placing your sketchbook and pen down. “you’ll be there, right?”

he nods at first, a simple smile settling on him. “of course,” he answers, “i’ll be there. i promise.”

he did. but he also left.

you feel you might be going crazy, like this is all a dream and he's only a figment of your imagination because he wouldn't come back just for this. not for you.

"san," you say, a knot on the horizon, "you left. you left a month ago." like you have to remind him of the fact as if speaking to a ghost.

"i know i did..." he hangs his head in shame and you can only stare, the situation so unreal, you wanna try slapping yourself to see if you'll actually wake up. "and i want to apologize for doing so."

such words bringing upon a web of emotions, both you and san still standing smack in the middle of the public gallery and you're trying to keep your composure.

heck, you're still trying to process the fact he's really here.

"can we talk about this outside?" you say, voice soft and timid, alluding to the current scene that san takes a hint to. the walk out the most quiet and awkward as you both try finding some form of seating, settling on a bench not too far from from the entrance.

a couple seconds that feels like an entire minute passes before you start again, san's heartbeat loud and hammering from beside you.

"you don't have to apologize. you went after your heart, why would i be mad about that?" you mumble, but the volume still loud in the quiet night, the air of spring about to be summer soon.

san exhales in preparation, his chest rising and falling to what he knew you were already gonna say because that's just how you are. all of what makes you so likeable and easy to fall for. though right now, he doesn't need forgiveness or even an ounce of your kindness.

he doesn't deserve any of it.

"because i lied to you," he breaks it, straight and clear, and the reminder throwing you back to the month before that you wanted to forget so bad.

you don't wanna cry and you didn't plan to cry tonight but the tears you're currently trying to blink away says otherwise.

"you didn't lie... you just kept things from me," you try justifying, part of it to console your own self. because you'd like to think that though san omitted details, he never said anything that wasn't true.

"and that makes it any better?"

there's a quick, uncomfortable silence before you speak, eyes down on your lap. "i'd like to think so."

it would be a lie if you say you don't think back to that night often. the conversation and then the awful realization in the car that gave you one of the most most awful case of a heartbreak. nothing in comparison to your mother's death, but a different kind for a different lesson.

how, you've tried so hard to not linger because the longer you did, the more sick it made you, creating doubts in your head that you were certain could never be answered because san left.

but you do think about it. if san simply struck up a friendship with you and did everything he did knowing you were exactly the kind he could never develop romantic feelings for.

that the reason he never seemed to really want any of that, or even gave into advances from other girls was only because he was leaving. but if he wasn't, would he have given any of them a chance? would he have given ashley a chance?

but you don't really wanna ask him any of that.

"so, are you visiting, or? what really brings you here?" because you don't believe that he came back just for this. just for you.

he told you leaving was what he always wanted to do, and now he's suddenly back here, and you can't think of any good enough reasons to do so only after a month of being gone.

he takes a deep breath and for the first time after sitting down, you turn and look at him, even if he's avoiding your gaze to look ahead into nothingness.

"you know, i probably moved more in the span of 4 years than you have in your lifetime," he speaks, face in eternal concentration, you just wanna listen. "i don't know. it's complicated i guess... but it was difficult to really feel like i belonged anywhere." he shrugs, the same time the bittersweet smile at the corner of his lips is visible.

"wasn't ever that close to my family members and i try to not stick with the same people for too long. ashley and especially wooyoung were just more persistent than your average person." he pauses, then continues almost hesistantly, "because i knew if i did, i'd end up hurting them."

and how funny and hypocritical of him because you're the person he ended up hurting the most. the one he completely shut out and gave no closure to, because he didn't think he'd grow so attached to you in the matter of just a year.

"but that's just how it works, right? there are things you have to sacrifice in order to find happiness," you say, at this point still trying to excuse his actions although you still remember feeling hurt and betrayed not that long ago.

"but i wasn't happy over there." he squeezes his eyes shut and his lips curl together in frustration, as if trying to get through you because you're failing to understand the point. "i came back because i was the happiest while i was here. i came back for you."

he knows it's selfish. how beyond hurt you must've felt when he left, and now all of a sudden showing up asking for a chance, the turmoil of mixed emotions you're probably going through at the confession.

just a month ago, he literally ghosted you. and just a few months before that, he made you think he was gonna kiss you... when it was not kissing you that he had a hard time with.

he wanted it be as quick and painless as possible, and kissing you was only gonna do the complete opposite. if he kissed you, he would've wanted to stay. but given how everything turned out, he should've just not pushed the friendship at all.

should've never texted you, never invited you out, and he especially should've never talked to you to start with. but again, he's a bit selfish by nature and couldn't help but to be intrigued by you when he shouldn't have.

but he especially shouldn't have opened the door to wooyoung that night of the graduation, still able to recall the exact outfit he was wearing as the boy glared at him with a certain look of disapproval before he could even say a word.

"y/n asked me to give you this," wooyoung says, sounding tired from the day or maybe he's still just mad at san and doesn't really wanna talk.

san sighs and hesistantly takes the pink envelope, wooyoung's gaze burning into his before the boy says his final farewell.

"you know, you're really an asshole."

and it was almost like wooyoung showed up at 1 in the morning after a long day just to give it to san out of spite in hope he'll feel guilty, and it worked.

because the content in it played a big part in san ultimately deciding to come back, the sketch of him that day in the cafe with his grey hoodie watching the petal shower along with a short note attached to it haunting him day and night.

Because of you, I had one of the best years of my life. I hope things are better in Seoul, and thank you truly for being the greatest inspiration - y/n

so he came back for you, and he means it... though you don't look like you believe it the slightest and he doesn't blame you. he's done nothing but fed you doubts.

he hears a hard swallow from you that he finally turns to, your eyes glossy and lashes fluttering to hide it.

"san, you shouldn't be saying things like that. you know how i feel about you," you say, sniffing due to a clogged nose because you're not doing very good at not crying.

san's scooted next to you, his leg brushing yours and hands on your jaw as you look up at him, never this close or intimate before, butterflies in your stomach that you wish wasn't there.

"it's true. i mean every word of it. i've liked you for so long, you have no idea."

he's not sure when he started liking you, his guess is probably during the summer trip. but he remembers looking forward to your texts and thinking how pretty you are and how he wanted to get closer to you, even if he shouldn't have.

"then why did you leave?" you ask, your eyes vulnerable and lips pouting that he wanna kiss and soothe.

you understand him chasing his dreams, but if he liked you; if he came back afterall, why did he leave in the first place?

"because i'm not used to staying in one place for too long." his thumbs drawing circles and tending to your cheeks. "i want to travel. i want to see the rest of the world... find a purpose in life and see what else is out there waiting for me."

you open your mouth to say something but it's like he already knew, cutting you off before you could even start doubting again, "i don't see it as having to make sacrifices in order to find happiness, more so just putting it off for the time being. the rest of the world can wait because right now, i want to be happy with you."

he can still be happy with you and achieve his other dreams when the time is right. he don't wanna have to choose one or the other when he can make both work with efforts.

"so you don't have to think about it now, but when you do, i just want you to know i like you. really really like you, and i'd love to give it a shot if you're willing. only when you're ready, of course."

and yes, the man quite literally ghosted you and broke your heart in such a short amount of notice, you could barely process it at the time. but you also can't deny the way he makes you feel.

how, whenever he's near, your stomach still feels funny and your heart wanna do flips. and with him this close, you definitely still wanna kiss him.

it's not possible to get over such a man in just a month, but you were healing slowly and ready to accept the fact you won't ever see him again. and then he comes back and is inches away from your face, telling you everything you've ever wanted to hear.

the sudden sound of your phone going off at a notification makes the both of you jump as san pulls away and clears his throat.

you quickly search your purse for your phone and see a text from yeosang on the screen.

yeosang: u ready?

"it's yeosang,'' you tell san, locking eyes with him briefly and awkwardly. "he wants to know if i'm ready to be picked up."

san nods, the air going quiet until an idea comes over. "i can take you." and when you don't answer, he tries testing if he can lighten the atmosphere even if just a bit. "i am renting the car so just don't make a mess."

but when the silence drags on and san can't read your expression, he thinks you don't want anything to do with him at this point, and rightfully so.

"yes," you say, the response picking san's head up to see a small smile you're trying to fight, "yes we can give it a try, and yes, you can give me a ride."

there's something shy but also daring in your tone, san sees the blush raising to your cheeks that brings out the widest smile from him, jumping in your arms to give you the biggest hug.

when he finally pulls away, the look of surprise on your face has him apologizing but you only shake your head with a smile.

"thank you," he whispers, "for giving me the chance. i promise i'll make it up to you."

you nod to his words, the smile still on your lips but unable to say anything due to the overwhelming (good) feelings.

then he goes to scratch the back of his head, a look of awkward and hesitant crossing him before finally saying it, "can i uh, can i kiss you?"

"yes," you actually answer, a giggle that cannot be contained leaving shortly.

and when he does kiss you, his lips just as soft and gentle as you imagined, the kiss even better than you had in your head, you're glad that your friend's instinct was right.

that san does indeed like you and everything he did wasn't just out of kindness and respect.

when you're both pulling away and indulging in a fit of laughter after and shaking your heads at the turn of events, you know he kissed you because it's something he wanted. because he thinks you might be the one.

when the blooming of flowers and trees are fading, along with the soft, gentle breeze of spring that finally passes, you're still in love with san and you're sure he feels the same way.

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Kinslayer

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell!reader (fem pronouns used)

Word count: 2k (she’s a baby)

cw: hurt, comfort, soft aemond, mentions of being naked? ANGST ANGST ANGST, the pov switches between aemond/third person and second person soo if you notice it going into “her” and “you”, it’s on purpose please don’t kill me.

a/n: I really wanted to make the little Drabble into a full fic soo here it is!! Not proofread. Let me know your thoughts!!!

Kinslayer.

That’s what they’ll call him. Rejoicing in celebration after Vhagar mercilessly attacked Arrax and Lucereys Velaryon. His nephew, his kin.

The cold had already seeped through his leather settled in his bones. He felt nothing but the chill of the air as he landed with Vhagar into the dragon pits. The roaring amber of the castle doing nothing to add even an ounce of warmth through him. His eyepatch wet and leaking its colour onto his scar- poorly made for a prince- it seared through him. He took it off immediately, throwing into one of the torches on the wall.

Servants rushed his side, trying to assist him in any way possible but he dismissed them with a stern look before walking towards the small council room. Gods be good, he wanted nothing more than to hide away in his chambers, away from everyone, away from peering eyes of the lords and councilmen, away from Alicent, from Aegon.

But near you. In his chambers where he could be Aemond. Not second son, not ‘The One Eyed Prince’. But only Aemond, your husband. He would take that title to his grave if he could, leaving all his other titles because those titles were given to him on a silver platter, he didn’t ask for them. However, he craved the title of being your husband.

Ever since you were kids. Aemond had taken a liking in sitting in the library with you and talking about history. Sneaking out and taking walks in the Red Keep or the gardens to distract himself from the political side of his life.

You- a simple Tyrell girl who came to Kings Landing when you were only two with your father, Lord Tyrell. Aemond only being three years old had taken a liking to you even when you were only capable of padding on your little feet across the castle. Getting to grow up in Kings landing with the prince and his siblings.

It wasn’t a shock to the realm when King Visereys announced your betrothal to the young prince when you were only eight. Having no idea what the prince held for you in his heart, but you knew he was not one to easily open up. And after what happened at Driftmark, it had taken you quite some time to walk his maze. He’d shut himself out to the rest of the world. Not meeting up in the library or in the courtyard for your usual routine.

So you took it upping yourself to knock on his door every morrow, and supper. Threatening to break in if he didn’t at least take the food into his chambers and eat it.

The first time you saw him after the unfortunate incident, you didn’t flinch. You didn’t scare away in a corner. You smiled at him, slowly approached him and gently ghosted your fingers over his new forming scar. His eye now replaced with a beautiful sapphire- your touch burned, but it burned with a feeling that he wished to experience a thousand times over.

The two children were found sound asleep in Aemond’s bed when the maesters came around to check on the princes health the next morning; wrapped around each other like dragons protecting their kin.

Even years later, he was grateful to have you. He wouldn’t tell it to anyone’s face but his actions always speak for him.

He always seeks you first in large gatherings. Following you like a guard dog wherever he’s in the castle and not away on Prince business across the seven kingdoms.

But today. It was different. You felt it as soon as you heard Vhagars roars through the air, crawling their way through the open window in your and Aemond’s chambers.

You rushed to the dragon pits carefully. The maids trying to assist you but you insisted on going by yourself only to find no one there but the dragons. Your husband nowhere to be seen.

You sighed, an eerie feeling brewing deeply in your gut as you walked back to your chambers and buried yourself in a cloak and settled onto the settee, hoping Aemond would show up.

He didn’t show up, much to your dismay. You had a hunch that he had probably made his way to the small council to report of his business at Storms end.

And so you waited while he spiralled.

…

Aegon looked…proud?

After breaking the news of what happened tonight on Storms End; the small council’s reaction were rather mixed. Alicent shook her head, getting up from her chair abruptly and making her way out of the room. Suddenly finding it suffocating.

His grandsire looked as though he was about to faint right that instant. Holding onto the armrest as he sighed in defeat.

The lords- your father being one of them, looked disappointed as ever. The death of a kin is never a way to settle for peace.

“You did well, brother.” Aegon speaks, the lords and the Hand turning their heads towards him with wide eyes. The death of a child and he did- well?

“I call for a celebration! A feast, tonight!” He declares, arms wide as he gets up from his chair and reached his brother at the end of the table in three long strides. Patting him on the back.

Aemond feels sick, grotesque. He hates this feeling.

He hasn’t uttered a word since his reporting, hasn’t met anyone’s eye and doesn’t want to either. He simply nods, fixing his head up yet not making eye contact and sternly walks away, exiting the room before running to a small corner to empty out his stomach’s content.

He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to. He was just…

Just what?

There was no simple explanation to why he acted tonight on Storm’s End. He was angry, furious even. But he, a man who is the perfect picture of composure, let his emotions get the worst of him. He was only trying to scare him with Vhagar, a dragon that chose him. He only wanted to show Lucereys how he felt that night on Driftmark when the boy stabbed his eye and left him to whither in his own blood. Vhagar chose him that night on Driftmark, a dragon known for its great size and strength all over the seven kingdoms chose the white haired boy after its rider’s death.

…

He doesn’t return to her, to you. The news of Lucereys must’ve reached you by now, or at least of the feast that Aegon has arranged for tonight.

He should be celebrating, with his brother- the king. But it feel wrong. So, here he is, standing in the corner of the Throne room with a chalice of wine. His mind going a thousand times faster.

Kinslayer.

Kinslayer

Kinslayer.

Kin-

Soft thumbs invaded his hands, plotting a coup and attacking their way into his palms, a finger, then another, weaving through his hand and taking over. His breathing stopped for just a second before he realised it was her, immediately feeling pints of blood shoot to his heart that thrummed erratically through his chest, he could feel the blood seep into his bones, replacing the chill of the rain he had experienced mere hours ago.

You had this effect on him, even after all these years. Of knowing you, through and through. Even the parts of you that are only meant for his eyes, you always managed to quietly make way for yourself in his heart. Not that his heart wasn’t laid out for you in a platter. He’d do it if you asked, rip his heart out and give it to you on a silver platter, it was yours to have ever since his third name day.

He focused back to you, not looking at you but rather feeling the ridges and lines of your palm that was connected to his. The way your thumb traced over his. Your other hand sneaking its way to his arm, up and down, up and down. A steady rhythm that he remembers and tries to match. He took a breath, then another. In and out- up and down. He tensed his feet, held by his leather boots, digging the heel into the concrete ground of the grand hall before your hand squeezed his bicep, once again pulling him back before he could drown in the cold noises of the feast.

He doesn’t say anything, or meet your eyes. Fearing what you might hold in them. Fear? Disappointment? Distaste? Does she see me as a monster now that I’ve hurt one of my own? One of her own?

You don’t. Unknown to him. You don’t know what happened exactly on Storms end, but seeing the way he wanted to be anywhere but here was a clear indication that your husband didn’t mean it. The fear in his eyes was buried deep but you saw it the moment your eyes lay on his tense back and ridged composure.

He never liked Lucereys, but he knows you did. There were only a few people in King’s Landing you truly despised. But oh the Sevens know how much you love those boys. The bastards only have the name Velaryon, yet they don’t carry even an ounce of resemblance to their supposed father. But you didn’t care, you never did.

You loved luceyres like a little brother. Even if you had little time to spend with the Velaryon boy, and Jace and Joeffrey. They were sweet to you. Having looked up to you as an older sister. And you loved them like your own, so when the news of Lucereys passes by you. You don’t think twice before running to find Aemond. He wouldn’t do that to you, right? He knew you love him, and the boys that were like brothers to you.

He never liked them, but he loves you. Gods, he loves you.

They don’t say anything to each other. Not for the rest of night. She keeps a hold of his hand, squeezing it once, pausing, then two and three. A secret language- a code.

I still love you. It dawned on him. Crashed through his chest and broke every bone in its wake.

This fucking war, you curse in your mind. If only Visereys hadn’t died such a death. If only he hadn’t named Aegon as King as his dying wish rather than announcing it at his first name day. If only Rhaenyra wasn’t named heir first.

If only. She knows wishing won’t do her good but the thoughts still linger in her mind like a plague.

She keeps a hold of his hand. Feeling the coldness that he carries, the warmth of her own hand travelling up his arm. Dragons blood in a Tyrell, he’d said once. That’s a rare sight. To which you dismissed as only having warm hands. But your hands had only became warm and dragon like after him. After having to carry his child.

A swollen belly of a princess. You were a sight for sore eyes. But the Gods had blessed you with this child- his child and you nurture them gracefully.

One hand on your belly and the other holding his, you both make your way to your chambers as the feast comes to a close, Aegon, once again, drunkly congratulates his brother for the up tenth time as he exists.

Not a single word has been said between the prince and the princess, yet they both find it more than comforting to not say a word because the heavy tension could be shattered with even a single sound.

As they enter their chamber, Aemond takes a deep- shaky breath. Knees buckling before he composes himself- not wanting to fall on his wife, not wanting to cause further damage.

You notice the way he’s staggering towards the bath. Quickly taking his leather soaked clothes off. He hadn’t changed, you note, it required him to come to the chambers. You walk to his side. Silently, he allows you to undress him, politely gesturing to the servants to bring hot water for his bath. Taking out his night garments for him before standing behind him as he settles into the warm bath.

You’re mothering him, something he’s only experienced with you and not his actual mother.

You quietly ask the servants to leave. Taking the wet rag and washing up the prince yourself. It’s an awkward move sitting on your knees while almost seven moons pregnant, but you don’t mind.

He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t try to meet your eyes. He lets you tear down all his walls and see him naked. Not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But this- this is a level of vulnerability you haven’t seen in him since Driftmark.

You dress him up, brush his hair and take off his eyepatch and sapphire, noticing that it wasn’t the same one he wore on his way to Storms end.

He kisses her forehead that night, not a single word uttered even then, his lips lingering as he cradles her head. Ever so carefully, like she’s porcelain, breaking at any given moment. He hopes she can’t hear his screaming heart that threatens to burst as he pulls her into his chest.

Feeling the way her breathing becomes more shallow. It pains him to not be able to look at her. To look into her beautiful eyes, look at the bright smile that he wishes she wore. But he knows he can’t.

And you’re the cause of it, his mind screams.

The mother of his child lets her tears escape onto his chest. Silent sobs raking her body and his heart chips and eats him from the inside, not wanting him to see the next sunrise.

But he stays still, he stays because he knows he’s at fault. He stays still when her silent sobs become audible and he closes his eye to let her punch and claw at him- but she doesn’t. Instead she stays too. Her arms like ivy curling around him as he hugs her- squeezes her, once then again.

I’m sorry.

Anddd that is it!! I hope you guys liked it. I am a sucker for soft Aemond and his wife, so what better moment to let him be healthily venerable than this? They’re both a lil fucked up but who isn’t? Let me know what yall think!!

@delusionsofnostalgia ; since you liked the Drabble. This is for u <3

Random tags: @endless-ineffabilities @aemonds-sapphire @firebornfables

[glamourscat]

ㅤ✮ Jason Todd (n)sfw headcanons ㅤ✮

SFW

24/25 years old, 6ft3, Latino (from his father's side), half Italian from his mother. Tallest and heaviest of all the kids with a muscle mass higher than Bruce’s. Tan skin colour, faint old scars —especially near his hands/back/chest. Green blue eyes, black curly hair with the white stripe at the front from the pit. I personally hc that he still has the Y autopsy scar. He has tattoos, a chest one at that, and one on his thigh particularly, that covers some of the biggest scars he has. Probably the most “hairy”— his hair grows fast. Long eyelashes, faint beard that doesn’t get too long. Chest/leg hair. HAPPY TRAIL

He uses the all blades

I see him as someone who after all of the shit he faced, he finally went to therapy and is maybe one of the first of the family who took the step to do so.

On the asexual scale and unlabelled? Vibes of “I like who I like despite of the gender but bc of their mind”.

brave, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and street-smart and emotionally smart. He can read your body language to filth. Kind of a loner. Prefers to stay in, enjoy life for its quietness after everything. He likes to keep things in order. His apartment is modest, despite having enough money he chooses to decorate it with second hand stuff. Hard to open up but once you gain his trust you have a loyal friend by your side. Someone that will literally come and see you at 3am if you need

Rocky relationship with the batfamily. Doesn’t attend galas, barely shows up at the manor but will make his appearance for family holidays. He still sees them as family, and families are complicated

A reader and lives mostly in his books thus in his head.

Theatre kid—but the one who loved watching it, never had the chance to take part in it. Lover of metal and rock music. A good chef, the best out of the guys. He was the academically inclined kid, not Tim. Jason LOVED school, to the point of skipping patrol to study because that’s who he is.

The first to retire from being a vigilante. And you bet your ass once married this man will pack you and him up and leave Gotham City with flash’s speed lmao. The most likely to live a peaceful, low life somewhere in a rural area, in a cottage with his spouse, 2 cats and 2 baby girls

Most likely to date a civilian

This man, WILL be a husband and a father one day. He just has this hidden nurturing side that not many get to see but it’s there. Biological or adoptive, stay safe, he will create his own kids army. Also dad girl all the way. 

NSFW

I see him as asexual, like I have said. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have nor craves sex, being asexual is a spectrum. For me jason is demisexual, someone who craves a sexual connection only after having established a deep intellectual and emotional connection with the other person. 

With that said, I cannot see him as some brute who will toss you around and have his way. I mean, objectively speaking, he has some traumas relevant to being emotional/intimate and sex is such an intimate act. It’s scary. As the relationship progresses, i can see him being more comfortable in initiating, trying new things, being more spontaneous and maybe a bit more rough. But gun, knife kink? The same guy who uses those everynight to hurt criminals, using the same objects on you? yeah, no. not to mention being restrained, after the trauma he faced with his death. 

So, sex with him it’s extremely intimate. He is trusting you to see a part of him he never shows to anyone else. He is most likely a virgin when you two meet, with only going as far with foreplay w past partners

Likes to be on top, but i wouldn’t say he is a dom. Switch leaning

Breeding kink… yeah, i said it lol. He does that thing of thrusting and just before finishing he pulls almost all out, leaving just the very beginning of the tip. As he starts to come he will thrust in one last time

Initially not a very big talker, but as time goes by and he becomes more comfortable, he would be more comfortable in showing his moans and grunts. Though, he definetly swears

Praises are more reserved for aftercare, soft, gentle words whispered in your skin as you two cuddle

Definitely a fan of cowgirl. I see him as a boob and thighs guy. So, fav position to hold for sure. 

He might not use many words, but his actions speak for himself. From the gentle kisses that linger on your lips and skin, to the eye contact, to the caresses… 

This man will eat you out like a starved man. Nothing else to add

His fav nights are when you two have a full on romantic night, although you dont explicitly say so. You two are more softer with each other, thrusts are less frantic and more deep than usual, making you feel every inch and vein of his. He is quietly moaning in your neck, as your legs are wrapped around his lower back, holding him so close to you that there’s basically no space left in between

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[morverenmaybewrites]

Jason Todd x Reader | Perspective on Love

How has their understanding of love changed? asked by @/citrussaurus

Heartbreaking take: I don’t think it has (yet). 

Sometimes, people who have undergone severe trauma can be mentally frozen at that age–and Jason has a lot of trauma to go around. 

As a child, Jason had been abused–both emotionally and physically–by both of his parents: his mother was a drug addict, meanwhile his father was an abusive drunkard. 

There wasn’t a lot of warmth in that rundown shack in East End, and he quickly learned to fend for himself. 

I think, as a child, all Jason ever knew of love are fleeting glimpses of it, unformed and unfamiliar, like the roiling shadows underneath the waters of Gothams: a girl from East End will choose to give her jacket to her sister, even if it means risking frostbite herself, a homeless man, so thin that you can count the grooves of his ribs, gives up his meal so that his dog can eat for the night. 

And he’ll watch these and he’ll think, Why? Why give up your comfort for the sake of another person? 

Not because he’s a naturally hard person, but because even as a kid, he became what he needed to be to survive.

And nothing soft ever survives in Gotham City.

Maybe he’ll experiment, the way children often do: he gives up a night’s worth of food to leave it beside his mother, so that she’ll have something to eat when she wakes up, he’ll drape a moth-eaten blanket over her despite the fact that it will leave him cold for the rest of the time.

Most of the time, she’ll ignore these gestures, but sometimes she’ll reward him. 

(And that is what Jason thinks of it as: a reward). 

The weight of her hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair, a blank but well-meaning smile, the briefest touch of her lips against his forehead. 

And you know what? For a long time, he’ll think that is love. Because it felt warm, good, to be seen by someone, to have one’s presence be wanted, needed.

(And when one is starving, even the scraps of something is better than the absence of it. He is from East End, after all. He’s learned to make do with what he has.) 

When Bruce adopts Jason, he brings this mentality with him, for one does not so easily forget lessons that take a lifetime to learn.

The setting changes, but the idea remains the same: love is a reward, something to be earned, its scraps something to be fought over, like any other resource. 

And I think Bruce (who, make no mistake, does love his children) did little to dissuade him from this fact. 

Maybe it’s the simple, immutable fact that all parents cut their children in a hundred different ways, no matter how much they love them. Or maybe it’s Bruce’s own version of love: the obsessive, almost manic way he demands perfection from his family and himself. 

(After all, how can the world hurt you if everything is made perfect, every mistake corrected, every weakness categorized and accounted for?)

But I think this attitude only strengthens Jason’s love-is-something-to-be-earned mentality. He thinks that this newfound family’s love will only be earned if he himself is perfect: if every target is hit through the bull’s eye, every case solved within twenty-four hours, every training session performed to Batman’s exacting standards. 

His kidnap and subsequent torture by the Joker only made it worse. Deep down, I think Jason thinks that if he did everything right, if he didn’t disobey Batman that night, if he had turned on his trackers, if he was the perfect little golden boy his family expected him to be, then maybe they would have loved him enough to keep searching for him, to find him. 

(To not abandon him to his fate.)

I think deep down, Jason feels as if he’s done something that made him unworthy of being loved, and (either consciously or unconsciously) constantly does things he believes will help him earn it. 

Deep down, he’s still that little boy from East End, the one who’d do anything just to feel a bit of affection, because the scraps of something is better than the absence of it.

Now, how does this affect his relationship with you?

I think Jason tries to be the perfect partner.

(Emphasis on tries, he knows little about people, and less about relationships, but dear God, he tries.)

Jason’s quiet in a way that suggests that he’s almost scared to disturb the space around you. He cleans up after himself (and you) with an almost military precision. Some of it is simply habit, things he picked up over the years. Growing up among the dust and dirt and refuse in East End, he hates seeing anything dirty.

But most of it?

It’s Jason trying not to make a nuisance of himself.

After all, you’re a lot less likely to ask him to leave if he’s, at the very least, a good roommate.

And while he’s always been observant, he pays attention to you to an almost unnerving degree. The things that you like, the things  that make you laugh, and most importantly, the things you dislike. 

As a child in East End, doing or saying the wrong thing might mean hard words and harder fists and a night on the cold concrete, curled up around his bruises like a soft-shelled thing. 

As a teenager, it might mean Bruce’s disappointment: so thick and heavy that it was almost suffocating. Jason thinks that he will never forget the way it filled all of the space in the room and made it hard to breathe.

(And how, everytime he failed, he expected to be told to pack his bags the next day). 

But with you?

It somehow feels worse, it feels as if he has a lot more to lose. This formless, nameless thing between the two of you, so fragile it feels like glass in his hands. 

So he tries to be the perfect partner. Exhausting as it is, unsustainable as it is, for no one canbe perfect all the time.

Still, Jason tries.

Because he’s from East End, because he’s from Wayne Manor, and finally because he’s Jason Todd and all his life he’s been content on living on scraps and here you are handing him your whole heart as if it’s nothing at all and he has no idea what he has done to earn it.

(So he does a little bit of everything. Hoping it will be enough. it has to be enough.)

 Every time he makes your coffee just the way you like it (despite you never telling him how) and carefully leaves it by your side, as if the act of handing it to you would make him a nuisance.

Every time he quietly picks up after you without complaint, despite you calling that it’s all fine and that the two of you should just crash on the couch and watch a movie. 

Every little thing he does to try and be perfect, is him asking you to please, please, find him worthy, to look at him and find something worth loving. 

It is him asking you to please let him stay.   

[lovebugism]

can i request something with a reader who’s just really into steve’s scoops ahoy uniform?

hi, my love! thanks so much for your request!! what better way to celebrate july 4th (aka stranger things 3 day) than by commemorating steve harrington in his scoops ahoy uniform? tw for smut mdni!! (2.1k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

When Steve told you he got a job slinging ice cream at the mall downtown, you didn’t think much of it. 

In fact, you spent the better part of that conversation comforting him. It was an existential crisis of sorts, wherein he’d spun himself into a panic about not going to college, not being successful, and not providing for you in the way that partners are supposed to. 

You figured it was a bruise to the ego more than anything — especially with his asshole father constantly looming over his shoulder. A steady reminder of what he could’ve been in ways more daunting than just one.

But then he showed you the Scoops Ahoy mandated uniform, held it in his hands with all the boyish reluctance of a child. According to him, the bright blue sailor’s outfit was the most dehumanizing thing of it all. It even came with its own stupid hat. 

You were so turned on by the idea of him wearing it, you forgot you were supposed to be consoling him. You quickly forgot why the job was ever a bad idea in the first place. Steve, albeit a bit confused by your sudden giddiness, was more excited to go into work the following Monday when he knew you were visiting him the first chance you got.

You’re practically skipping when you walk into Scoops, skirt swishing around your thighs. It was later in the morning, which meant business was relatively slow. There’s an older couple sharing a sundae at one of the booths, but other than that, you’re the only customer in the store.

Steve stands at the register with a smile on his face he doesn’t know is there. He’s been a real grouch all morning, but he’s forgotten why at the sight of you.

You beam at him, propping your elbows on the counter and putting your chin in your hands. “Do the line,” you gush.

His chest inflates with a deep breath in, then deflates with a sharp exhale. You don’t even notice that it’s a sigh of annoyance at first, too focused on the scarlet tie around his shoulders and the tufts of chest hair peeking out from the top of it.

“Ahoy, sweetheart,” he greets, still grinning despite his lack of enthusiasm. He tilts his head to his shoulder and recites his line: “‘Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me today? I’ll be your captain’— How was that?” 

“Even better in uniform,” you marvel in a lilt. Then you squint at him. “I better be the only customer you’re using that sweetheart line on, though, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs like the thought of saying it to anyone else is appalling. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the world I’ve ever called sweetheart, sweetheart.”

“Good. I plan on it staying that way.”

The boy smiles to himself. 

He likes when you get all possessive. Maybe because he spent the majority of his past relationships having to be the jealous one — always worried about never being good enough, being left. He likes how confident he is in the fact that you only have eyes for him. Even if he is wearing a stupid sailor’s uniform. 

“What do you what, huh?” the boy asks as he pulls out his metal scoop from the apron tied around his hips. “Choco-mint with chocolate sprinkles?”

He’s already spooning the green ice cream onto a cone for you before you say a word. You like that you never have to tell him what you want, that he knows you like the back of his hand already. 

“Ooh. He looks good in a sailor’s outfit, and he’s attentive?” you singsong lowly. “I think you might be a keeper, Steve Harrington.”

The boy rolls his eyes as he turns away from you. He walks to the opposite wall, where several containers of variously colored sprinkles sit in a large tub. When he bends over to smother your cone in the chocolate kind, the white hem of his shorts climbs up his thighs. You almost forget to breathe.  

Steve turns around to catch you staring. You don’t even blink.

“Stop ogling at me,” he laughs with pink cheeks. “It’s getting weird, babe.”

Your brows pinch. “Why is it weird to look at my boyfriend?”

“Because your boyfriend looks like an idiot. Like, this should not be turning you on, sweetheart.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Stevie,” you shrug with a whimsical sigh.

He meets your smirk with a half-hearted scowl and passes you the ice cream cone. When your tongue darts out to taste it, his brain malfunctions for a moment. “Seriously, babe,” he scoffs when his senses return to him. “What about any of this is attractive to you?”

Your head tilts as you scan his muscular form, looking far more boyish than usual in his flamboyant uniform. “Well, for starters, those ankle socks are strangely sexy—”

Steve snorts at the offbeat start to your list.

“—And your thighs look delectable in those shorts. Your arms do, too. You’ve been working out so much, they barely fit in those sleeves,” you compliment. The corner of your mouth quirks into a half-smile as your eyes flit up to his hair. “Also, something about the hat and ascot combo is really doing it for me.”

Robin comes out of the break room then. The door swishes back and forth. “You could’ve just said everything and be done with it,” she grouses as she clumsily sits her white cap on her head.

She looks about as grumpy as Steve, like something about the linoleum tile and fluorescent lighting is sucking the lives out of the two of them.

“Don’t worry. You look hot too, Buckley,” you promise with a smirk.

Her head tilts sweetly to the side as she musters a grin of her own. “Thank you.”

You turn back to Steve with an expectant gaze. “When do you go on break again?”

He twists his wrist to check his watch as you take another lick of your ice cream cone. 

Robin answers for him. “Now, preferably.”

“What?” the boy asks with furrowed brows. “I still have, like, fifteen minutes left.”

“Just go fuck and get it over with,” she groans, ocean-blue eyes wide and pleading. “I can practically smell the sexual tension radiating off both of you.”

Steve wants to argue, but you only smile. You nod your head towards the exit. “C’mon, sailor.”

He has no choice but to follow behind you. He’s been doing it for years now, and you haven’t disappointed him once. You lead him by his hand through the bustling mall, chucking your half-eaten cone into the bin when you reach the entrance.

Steve isn’t surprised when you wind up at his car in the employee parking section. He swirls with a boyish excitement, anyway. 

Everything feels so new with you. 

Even the things he’s done a thousand times.

Including, but not limited to, fucking you in the backseat of his car.

You’re on him the second you shut the door behind you. Your skirt bunches at your hips as you straddle his thighs, kissing him with the intent to swallow him whole.

Steve’s hands are limp at his sides in shock. It leaves you doing most of the work yourself, pulling down his blue shorts and gray underwear in one fell swoop. You tuck the hem of them beneath his heavy balls and half-hard cock.

His head falls back against the seat when you start fisting him completely stiff.

You twist your wrist in the way you know he likes — squeezing him towards the top before falling to the stem of his cock again. Your thumb swipes over his bulbous head to collect the pearly pre-come beading there. 

If you had enough room in the backseat of his Beamer, you might’ve forgone the sex entirely and just taken him into your mouth right then.

Steve’s rosy mouth falls agape to billow pretty little moans for you. You tug on the red tie around his neck to get his attention again. His glazed-over, honey eyes flutter open to find your smirking face. 

“Can I take a ride on your ocean of flavor, Stevie?” you tease with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“It’s ‘set sail,’ but yeah— shit,” he swears when your thumb grazes his leaking tip again. “Of course, you can, sweetheart…”

With his consent, you grip the bottom of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line him with your pulsating entrance. He might’ve asked if you wanted a little preparation first, but when his silky head grazes your satin walls, he knows you’re more than wet.

Your pussy’s already drooling all over him, and he isn’t even inside you yet. 

The both of you exhale low moans when you finally slip him within you. Your walls are warm and wet — the softest velvet imaginable, and perfectly snug around his achingly hard cock. You keep your fingers wrapped around the tie on his chest, using it for leverage as you grind your hips back and forth over his thighs. 

Steve goes pussy drunk almost instantly, babbling like crazy at the feeling of your cunt sucking him further and further inside of you.

“Oh, my fucking god, baby,” he moans, the words sounding stiff as they spill from his tightening throat. “You feel so good. So tight, too— Shit. Pussy’s drooling all over me, sweetheart.”

He can’t see you from this angle — can’t see the way your dripping cunt takes him so well or the way your ass glides perfectly over his heavy balls. But he can picture it, can feel your slick drenching his pubic hair and happy trail.

He so desperately wishes it were possible to fuck you with his cock and have you ride his face at the same time. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you.

But this is good for now. 

This is perfect.

With the energy he’s got left from his drifting senses, he grips the plush of your ass. He spreads your flesh apart, and the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin makes you clench around him. He almost loses it, then — when the smacking of your thighs and the wet squelch of your drenched pussy fills the small car, going slowly cloudy with your entwining heavy breaths.

“You’re so hot, Stevie,” you manage through labored pants. Your heavy-lidded gaze threatens to close, but you don’t want to stop looking at the boy below you. You want to commit all his features to memory — his pink kiss-bitten mouth, reddened cheeks, and honeyed eyes. You want the image of his fucked-out features to stain your mind forever.

“God, babe,” he sighs breathlessly, a moan mixed with a soft laugh. “I still don’t— I really don’t get it, sweetheart.”

“Are you seriously complaining?” you smirk as you glide your hips over his thighs again. 

Your swollen clit catches the polyester of the bottom of his shirt. You swear your eyes cross as your mouth opens in a low keen.

When your pussy clenches at the ethereal feeling, his cock jerk within your tightening velvet. Both of you are nearing your orgasms full throttle now. You can almost taste the sweet vanilla of your climax.

“No. Fuck no, I’m not complaining,” he assures with a shake of his head. “You’re just really fucking confusing and really fucking hot... Fuck—”

His head falls back again, exposing the golden tendons of his neck. You’d bite at them if you could stop looking at him. You smile even though he’s not looking at you — even though your thighs are burning and your knee is digging into the seat belt latch. “I can’t wait to fuck you when you get off.”

“Yeah?” he hums, eyes still halfway closed.

“Yeah,” you repeat with a nod, still rocking against his lap while his cock rubs relentlessly at the deepest parts of you. Your clit catches his shirt with every pass of your hips, sending a white-hot feeling of nearly unbearable pleasure shooting up your spine. “So I can get a real good look at you while you fuck me in this uniform.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his jaw clenches. He tries not to come at the sound of your voice and how the words spill like honey from your mouth. 

Despite the less-than-ideal location — at the edges of a mostly empty lot — he doesn’t want this to be over quite yet. He wants to feel you gush on his cock over and over and over again. He’s afraid he won’t be able to focus on work until you do.

If he knew that slinging ice cream for three dollars an hour in a stupid sailor’s outfit would drive you this crazy, he would’ve dropped out of school and put in an application forever ago. 

[jinxedbychaos]

vi x reader, where in childhood they were somewhat involved with each other . Like you can tell the love is there but they have yet to realize it themselves. And when they went to save vander, reader got hit in the head and loses their memory. And Vi is put in prison.

then Vi gets out, and they find each other. And Vi hugs reader and goes on a good “i missed you, there wasn’t a day i haven’t though about you” spiel, and reader just doesn’t know how to feel about it. Because in their mind this is just some stranger. But at the same time they feel like they know and care deeply about this stranger.

Forgotten

Vi x reader

Word count: 1,275

Warnings: some mentioned deaths (that's all I think.)

This is the first ever request I've ever done so I hope I meet the expectations of the person who send this request.

You and Vi grew up together in the the lanes. life wasn't easy, but you had each other, and that made it bearable. she'd always mess with you, messing with your hair, ruffling it playfully whenever she got the chance. You'd pretend to be annoyed, swatting her hand away with a huff, but secretly, you liked it. It made you feel warm inside.

After her fights, you'd sit her down and patch up her scraped knuckles, muttering about how reckless she was, She'd grin at you, acting like it didn't hurt, but you always knew better. You could see through her tough exterior, and she could see right through yours. Neither of you ever said what you felt, but it was there, in lingering glances, unspoken gestures, and the way your hearts seemed to beat in sync.

Then everything changed.

It happened when Silco made his move. Watching Benzo-your father figure, the man who had taken you in when you had no one else, fall dead right in front of you helpless to stop it, shattered you. The thought of Vander meeting the same fate was unbearable. And the idea of Vi having to endure the pain of losing him, too, was more than you can handle. You couldn't let that happen.

So when vi decided to go after him, you went too. You stayed by her side as the others followed, determined to save Vander.

You were right beside her when the explosion went off. The force of it knocked you off your feet, and pain seared through your entire body like fire. The last thing you saw before the world went dark was her pink hair splayed on the ground unmoving.

When you woke up, everything was gone. Vander. Claggor. Mylo. Vi. Even your memories.

All that remained were fragments, hazy feelings of warmth and safety tied to a face you couldn't quite place.

Years later-

Life without your memories felt hollow. The Lanes still felt familiar in a way you couldn't explain, like a melody you couldn't recall but keep humming anyway. you did whatever you had to do to survive, jobs you weren't proud of, choices you tried not to think about. You pieced together a new life, but no matter how hard you tried, it always felt incomplete.

And then she appeared.

You were carrying a crate of scavenged parts through the bustling streets, just trying to make it another day, when someone stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

"Hey" You began, irritation flaring. But when your gaze meet hers, the words died in your throat, she looked familiar.

The girl, no, woman stood frozen, her pink hair catching the dim light. Her wide eyes, a mix of disbelief and something far deeper, softened as they locked onto you.

"Y/N…" She breathed, her voice cracking.

The name sounded foreign to you, yet it struck something deep inside, a string you hadn't realized was there. Before you could react, she rushed towards you and wrapped her arms around you. The crate in your hands fell to the ground with a loud clatter, its contents scattering everywhere.

Her hold was tight, desperate, as if she were afraid you might disappear. "Gods" She whispered, her voice trembling "I missed you so much. There wasn't a day I didn't think about you. I-I thought you were dead after the explosion."

Her words pierced the fog in your mind, stirring emotions you couldn't explain. Images flickered in your head. flashes of pink hair, laughter, a hand reaching for yours in the dark. You didn't know her, not really. And yet…

The way her voice trembled, the way she held you like you were her lifeline. It felt familiar. Like home.

"I…" your voice wavered as you pulled back, stepping out of her embrace. The confusion and overwhelming emotions made it hard to think. "Y-you know me?" You swallowed hard, shaking your head, "I don't… I don't remember. I don't remember you"

Her expression faltered, the pain flickering across her face like a fleeting shadow. She took a shaky breath, forcing a small, fragile smile. "That's alright" she murmured, her voice trembling but steady enough to hide the heartbreak beneath it "We'll figure it out together. I'm not letting you go this time."

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. Vi tried to reconnect with you, sharing stories of your childhood together, each one laced with hope that might ignite a spark of recognition. sometimes, fragments of those memories felt familiar, like shadows of something long lost. But just as quickly, they slipped away, leaving you more confused than before. How could someone care so deeply for you when you couldn't even remember who they were?

And yet, there were moments. Her laugh carried warmth that tugged at something buried deep within you. the way she said your name felt like home, even if you didn't understand why. The fire in her eyes when she talked about protecting you stirred something unspoken, something that felt like it had always been a part of you.

Despite the confusion, you couldn't help but feel drawn to her. Maybe it was the tenderness in her gaze, or the way your heart raced whenever she smiled. or perhaps it was something deeper. Something you couldn't name but felt in every fiber of your being, like a truth just out of reach.

one night, sitting on the rooftop, the hum of the lanes below was a distant murmur in the silence between you. You sat side by side with Vi, the weight of unspoken thoughts in the cool night air.

"Vi…" you began, your voice quiet as you stared out at the city "I-I don't know if I'll ever remember everything. I don't know if I can be the person you remember" You hesitated, your fingers twisting together nervously "But I want to try. I want to be that person for you"

Vi turned to you, her gaze soft but unwavering, her expression a mixture of hope and understanding. "you don't have to be anyone but who you are now" she said gently, her voice steady "I just… I just want to be here with you"

Her words stuck something deep within you, cutting through your uncertainty. for a moment, you were overwhelmed by how much this woman. this stranger who somehow felt like home. Had given herself to find you again.

"Vi…" you murmured, your voice trailing off as her eyes locked with yours. The space between you seemed to shrink, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air.

slowly, tentatively, you leaned toward her, your heart pounding in your chest. She met you halfway, her lips warm and soft against yours. Her kiss was gentle yet filled with a quiet desperation, as though she had been holding back for years, waiting for this moment.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was a connection. A fragile bridge between the fractured pieces of your past and the uncertain promise of your future.

When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling as you both tried to steady yourselves. Vi smiled, her voice soft and teasing, though her eyes glistened with emotion "I've waited a long time for that, you know"

you couldn't help but smile back, a warmth blooming in your chest that chased away the lingering doubts "I think… maybe I've been waiting too. I just don't realize it"

in that moment, the weight of the past seemed lighter. What mattered wasn't what had been lost but the connection you were building now. one step, one moment at a time, together.

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Hope you enjoyed reading :] don't forget to like.

I'm still working on some requests that should be out soon enough, if you want you can leave a request.