#the most difficult thing was making sure things lined up with whats been said about des's dsmpsona

[lemotmo]

Love

Q. I have such whiplash from the last few days. Free them please.

A. It's been a lot, lol. I'm going to kind of PR nerd brain out for a minute because these last two days specifically have been super interesting. Oliver and Ryan have clearly both been told to stick to their canned answers for the most part, but have also clearly been instructed to drop a tease or so as well. Ryan obviously gave his standard brother reply, which honestly should not have surprised anyone. Oliver dropped his standard Eddie is straight reply. They're the exact same answer just said with different nouns (or noun phrase but you know what I mean). Oliver dropped most of his teases in the podcast. It's difficult to get more teasing than 'super gay'. But Ryan also dropped a teaser/clue in his interview. I will take a moment to say that neither Oliver or Ryan benefit from print interviews because their respective approaches/personalities don't translate well in print. Oliver is super British, which means he's very dry. Super quick witted, but very dry, and that does not translate well in print at all. So he often comes across as a dick. Ryan, when he's trying not to spoil something, kind of word vomits and hopes for the best, until it comes to Buddie questions or anything approaching sexuality questions, which is what he's trying not to spoil. In those areas he gives the same canned responses. So his print interviews end up sounding dismissive because those responses don't match his other rambles. But that's not how either man really is so when videos drop of those exact same interviews the tone of the entire interview completely changes. Because the videos show their faces. Which means people get to see their smiles, and their awkwardness, or in Ryan's case his face turning bright red. They're terrible liars. Abysmal liars. It's actually hilarious how bad they are. But they're also ridiculously charming and it works completely in video form. What was amazing about the Ryan interview video in particular was you could see in real time the moment he realized he messed up. Yes he said the word brother, but almost immediately one of two things happened. He either wasn't supposed to say the word brother anymore, but is so hardwired to that answer that he slipped back into factory setting mode, and then tried to correct it; or he missed the segway where he was supposed to drop his future relationship tease and had to course correct. Because he dropped that line about his next relationship (which was clearly ummm yeah) completely out of context and not at all at the right point in the interview. His ears even got red. It was amazing to watch. They're both very conscious of not being the one to spoil it ahead of time, and in video interviews that mostly comes across as awkward and charming, but in print interviews they just sound irritated. It's wild.

Another interesting thing was Oliver's very coached answer to the Tommy question. His reaction to the Tommy stuff during the podcast was clearly spur of the moment and off the cuff, (loved it. no notes) which works on a podcast. Today he was much more diplomatic in his answer. That was not a coincidence. I think he was instructed to make sure he reiterated that that particular storyline is over for Buck, but I also think they worked with him a bit on the best way to say that. Which doesn't surprise me at all. We all love Oliver's hater game but the upfronts is not the place for that. And truth be told Oliver probably didn't require much coaching on that answer but he had clearly practiced it a few times (Aisha not so much, lol). And honestly it was long overdue to be said. There was no reason to give the impression that it's open ended when episode 15 really brought that storyline to a natural conclusion. As for all the tommies in my inbox spiraling over Tommy being reintroduced as Buck's love interest again in episode 11 only for it to go nowhere, all I can say is that's not what he was brought back for. He was brought back to be the catalyst for the GA to question Eddie's sexuality. That was it. And the episode made that clear. You pretending that's not what was happening doesn't magically make it go away. He was always going to serve that purpose. Tim just should have never dragged it out this long. So ABC officially drawing a line through him and that plot point made sense. Moving on.

Probably means nothing, I want to stress that from go, but the fact that Tim doesn't appear to have been at the upfronts is interesting. He runs the number one show on the network, and was given a 2nd show as a result, dear god every new thing that comes out about the Nashville spinoff just sounds worse and worse, but I digress, so him not being at the event was noticeable. Shandoa Rimes was always there. ABC doesn't discourage show runners from attending. Again it most likely means nothing, but it is noticeable. I don't believe for one minute he willingly passed up the opportunity to talk about himself. Tim has been pretty concerning this season, especially the back half of the season. A couple of his interviews were giant red flags, in my opinion. For example the interview he gave after episode 15 was a disgrace from start to finish. Wanting to build an episode around a helicopter chase because you want to do your take on Apocalypse Now is astoundingly stupid (no he didn't want it for Tommy. The man flat out said he wanted to play Apocalypse Now). Deciding to kill your main character off, even though it will prove to be a fake out, apparently on a last minute whim, is a fireable offense. Having zero plan amongst the cast on how to proceed with the bit until the reveal is just unprofessional. Not being willing to stick to any kind of storyboarding or plan all season long is nonsensical, exhausting and highly disrespectful to your cast, crew and audience. I'm not going to touch the Ryan thing because it's very concerning on multiple levels and needs immediate reviewing on ABC's part. There are clearly issues with Tim and I don't know if this means ABC realizes that at minimum a conversation needs to take place, but they have to do something about him. They have to address some of these things. Again I want to stress that it's probably nothing but it was weird to me that he of all people doesn't appear to have been there. My boss never misses a chance to brag about his accomplishments. And Tim's never been shy about praising himself in the past. So yeah.

All in all a most enjoyable few days. I'm having a blast, as are most of us by the looks of things. Can't do anything about people who just refuse to read between the lines on things or follow obvious clues. I'm not responding to those asks either. Oliver and Ryan are not allowed to say anything definitive yet and I will never understand why some people don't get that. Anyway, carry on.

Thank you so much Nonny! My inbox desperately needed this post.

I won't touch upon everything mentioned in this post. The Tim Minear & Ryan Murphy topic speak for itself I think. But I do want to talk about the Oliver and Ryan part.

Okay, first of all...

For all the people dooming right now:

Step away from the interviews. Don't read them, don't listen to them and just ignore them. It's obvious that they stress you out to an unhealthy degree.

Ryan and Oliver CANNOT say ANYTHING about the upcoming finale and season 9. THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED! So yes, they spin around in circles, repeating the same thing, over and over again.

Oliver refers to Eddie as 'straight' in one interview and Ryan calls them 'brothers' in another. It isn't anything we haven't heard before. 🤷‍♀️

So just focus on the show for a minute. We have had soooo many clues and hints in the show that they are going forward with Buck being in love with Eddie and Eddie discovering his 'joy' (= Buck). We have also seen that Eddie is willing to do anything for Buck. That last episode was very telling. So yes... somewhere along the line Eddie will also realise that he feels more than friendship for Buck.

It is the obvious next step at this point. There is no way back and the show and network know it.

But of course, neither of these men can talk about this yet. Because yes, Eddie is still canonically straight right now. He is immensely queer-coded, but in the text he is still straight. So what else is Ryan supposed to say? He cannot yet truthfully answer the Buddie question.

So please stop blaming Ryan for not willing to do Buddie or whatever it is you are dooming over. The man is an actor who acts out what is in the script. He has often showed support for Buddie. He is fine with it. 🤷‍♀️

But he cannot possibly hint at anything to do with Eddie's sexuality, because then the cat would be out of the bag, and it's obvious that this is supposed to be a big surprise to the GA.

I will say this though...

That one line where Ryan talks about Eddie's next relationship being a life-changing one that will throw him for a loop??? Come on you guys. We got a quote like that and you're still dooming.🙄 Puh-lease.

As I said before, Buddie is a sure thing... the timeline however? I'm not sure about. I do expect something in the finale episode. But I truly don't know what that will be.

We'll have to wait and see. I for one cannot wait to watch that finale!🤗

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[trickstarbrave]

the battle of red mountain. i guess.

i figured putting this in a better post than the one with like 5 reblogs explaining my theories that ppl dont rb all the additions of will prob be better

the battle of red mountain has some contradictory things between accounts and things that don't always entirely make sense. why would nerevar have keening during the battle? sure you can say voryn stole the tools from kagrenac but how he would have done that is a mystery that requires a lot of additional theorizing i think. he was also very importantly mostly fucking around with the nords i think at the time.

the nords also explain nerevar was fighting alongside dumac. which would be weird if all the dwemer were united. "well, the nords are stupid and wouldn't understand and just assumed dumac and nerevar were fighting together" i dont think you need to be a massive genius to figure out if two dudes are trying to kill each other or someone else. "well they also said lorkhan was there and we know thats not true" do we know that? i dont think we can say for certain

so to summarize, based on what i have gathered from details i think are credible about the battle of red mountain and what details conflicting accounts have in common (even tho there was prob a dragon break bc numidium was involved but i think most of these things are similar):

voryn discovers that the numidium is being built. nerevar goes to dumac and asks if it's true. he says no. nerevar is conflicted because he trusts both dumac and voryn and one of them has to be lying. he goes to azura, and azura says kagrenac is building the numidium without dumac's knowledge.

nerevar returns to dumac. unlike many accounts where he declares war because dumac keeps denying it, i think that after a heated discussion, dumac decides to look into it. it turns out azura and voryn were right. he is horrified.

this triggers a dwemer civil war. kagrenac insists this is just a tool that can be used to protect their people, and that peace between them and the chimer may not last. dumac or nerevar can die one day and if that happens, the alliance will fall apart. different dwemer fall into different factions, some supporting dumac, some supporting kagrenac. note: i think some might have only been on dumac's side because they thought kagrenac's plan is too reckless and dangerous. others are backing kagrenac not because they think the numidium is necessarily a good idea but because they have not been enjoying the alliance between the dwemer and chimer.

with this dwemer civil war, kagrenac's dwemer declare war on the chimer. it's a massive clusterfuck

during this time, almalexia, sotha sil, and vivec (perhaps others on the council too who knows) think that it is too dangerous to just fight the dwemer head on especially since they dont all know how the numidium really works. they believe it would be a better idea to get the nords involved so the nords can throw themselves in the line of fire and they will lose less chimer

they send voryn to do this. voryn immediately clocks that they want to probably also stage a coup after this, but he is big mad at the dwemer for unknown reasons so he goes along with it, or maybe the nords promised him smth. who knows. he goes to the nords and says he knows where shor's heart it, and its in red mountain and the dwemer are doing fucked up shit to it

during this time, ALMSIVI give false orders to chimer battalions so they don't get caught up in the worst fighting. nerevar is confused why the men he has requested aren't showing up, and nords are just attacking chimer and dwemer indiscriminately.

the nords believe the numidium is shor. it is also possible lorkhan was in fact possessing the numidium given his heart was in there. idk. difficult to say. all i know is when they saw nerevar and dumac attacking it to turn it off, the nords thought they were trying to kill lorkhan

numidium is turned off. during this time, kagrenac gets the tools again and bangs on the heart. somehow this makes the dwemer all disappear. there is widespread shock and confusion

nerevar now has to deal with whatever the fuck just happened. he is injured, soldiers were given the complete wrong directions, where the fuck did all the dwemer go, will they be back, and what the fuck do they do with this giant world ending robot and god heart???

voryn says they should destroy the tools here and now. nerevar knows this is a difficult decision and asks voryn to guard the heart and tools until he can think it over. this was a certified Bad Move™ as i think being around the heart long term causes corruption. the heart wants to be used.

almsivi make the argument that they don't know where the dwemer went, if they're all dead, if they will be back, whatever. if they destroy the tools, kagrenac can make more, but there is no guarantee the chimer can steal them again. it would be better to keep them locked away. considering they were right that the peace between the chimer and dwemer was more rocky than nerevar wanted to believe, he thinks it over and also asks azura. azura tells him no one should use those tools ever. nerevar comes to a compromise between destroying them and decides to make them all swear to never use them. then he goes to get the tools presumably to lock them away

voryn has been driven mad and rightfully calls out that if he gives nerevar the tools, almsivi just want to use them for themselves and kill nerevar. he is deranged and rambling and mad. almsivi tell nerevar that voryn might have allied with the nords during all this and is spouting nonsense. nerevar has to try and get the tools from him by force, and ends up killing him by mistake and is wounded himself

almsivi finish killing nerevar, and take the tools. after sil studies them, they know how to use them and the red moment happens. during this time, house dagoth are labeled traitors and wiped out.

azura gets mad that they broke their oath and "curses" all the chimer

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

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have a good day/night/whatever!

[hanibalistic]

THE HAPPIEST | HAN JISUNG.

genre | fluff, angst, romance / soulmate au, strangers to lovers au

synopsis | when you found out jisung was your soulmate, you made the difficult decision to lie to him about it.   

word count | 19.2k+

warning | none

note | i've been really into sprite lately!

It took you a moment to register Jisung's face and another moment to process what he had just uttered out of his mouth.

"Tell me, baby, you're the happiest when you're with me, right?"

The line that the universe had etched under your forearm, the words that your soulmate would say to you for the very first time, the very words you had carved so deep into your head because you wanted to make sure you would recognize them whenever and wherever they were spoken.

The night your soul mark appeared was the day you promised yourself that you would vengefully kick your soulmate's ass. Except you didn’t end up kicking anyone in their behind. 

For one, you were in the school cafeteria, and you were not beyond following the rules and regulations enforced by the system. If a revolution was to happen, you should be the last person anybody calls for aid. 

For two, you weren't actually very strong, so you doubted your vengeance could be adequately expressed. Unfortunately, issues regarding grudges should always be dealt with a 'go big or go home' mindset, and you should go home.

For three, the boy who said it to you, your supposed soulmate, was Han Jisung.

You had gone as far as to turn around to make sure no one else was sitting anywhere within a five-centimeter radius of you. It was a plausible mistake. Putting one soul mark on two people? It shouldn't be a mistake. Not many people start their conversation with, "Tell me, baby, you're the happiest when you're with me, right?"

"This can't be," you muttered grimly when you realized your thoughts were illogical. You were alone in the cafeteria. 

You always sat alone in the corner with a homemade sandwich, a carton of apple juice, and a store-bought pudding on the food tray. It wasn't pitiful.

You enjoy eating alone; you do it at home, and you do it at restaurants. The only reason it felt awkward at school was the lack of entertainment from a small screen, forcing you to focus only on chewing and looking thoughtful.

Perhaps that was the reason why Jisung thought you were approachable. You weren’t occupied enough. Some students were reading books, others were cramming their next tests, and most of them were in a circle chatting with their friends. You were the only person who was just eating.

That wasn't the current issue, though. You sat alone, which meant he was talking to you, given that direct eye contact wasn't proof enough that he was. 

Han Jisung, who is multi-talented, not too academically excellent, not really athletic but light enough to be fast, has a wide smile, a voice so soulful, and a heart so pure, is undoubtedly your soulmate.

You weren't sure how you felt about that. You weren't sure how you felt about him.

A mixture of emotions and thoughts flashed before your eyes the moment you turned your head to face him. It was almost like a defense mechanism; you didn't want to see him, so your brain conjured thoughts to cover your eyes.

The way he smirked at you made your cheeks heat up more than you wanted them to. What was there not to like about him? He was handsome, hilarious, and, from what you've heard, had a very tender heart. 

For a moment, you felt a congratulatory spark, a sense of pride that your soulmate was someone so brilliant.

Immediately after, you thought about yourself. Dull, indecisive, and lost. 

You wanted to do so many things at once that you ended up never doing anything, let alone anything groundbreaking.

You were the type of people stuck in a cubicle box when you grew up or stuck riding the same train home every day. You were the type of person who would definitely be able to go somewhere in the future, just nowhere exciting.

Soulmates were supposed to be compatible and similar. Brilliant people stick with brilliant people; intelligent people talk to other smart people; attractive people group with attractive people. They look good with each other, and they elevate each other to be better than before. 

You weren't necessarily self-deprecating, but you were realistic about the situation. You simply weren't the type to pretend to be someone you weren't, and a person like Jisung was someone you could never be.

You sighed. You did know how you felt about him and his identity as your soulmate: you didn't appreciate it. You were happy to know that he was your soulmate, but you decided to keep that to yourself for both of your sake. Jisung doesn't have to know about that.

The story of the swan and the hermit, except you were the knowing frog, and he was the unsuspecting swan. This time, the frog wasn't greedy. This time, the frog lets the swan flourish elsewhere.

It would be unfair to Jisung that he has to grow old without ever finding out who his soulmate was. But at least he knew he had one and could keep the benefit of the doubt that his soulmate was doing amazing things elsewhere in the world.

Not the gloomy and doomy [Name] who sits alone in the cafeteria daily and decides other people's fate for them.

Jisung tilted his head to the side upon your lack of reaction. He saw you mouth something but couldn't hear you over the cafeteria noise. He leaned in a little closer, his eyes squinted. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

You inwardly breathed out a sigh of relief. That made it easier to keep your status a secret. Maintaining a flat expression, you spoke a little bit louder this time and made sure you put some grit into your words to scare him off. “I said why the fuck did you ask me that?”

His expression did not dim one bit upon your harsh words. Instead, his smile widened, and he sat on the seat across you. He raised his brows when he noticed you flinching at the chair squeak. Pulling himself closer to the table, he lifted the chair and placed it down lightly. 

Folding his arms over the table, he finally replied, "Jiae dared me to say something funny to you. She said you would curse at me, and guess what? She was right!"

You stared at him pitifully. The pity was genuine and not an act to push him away. “You are playing truth or dare? In a school cafeteria?”

"Hey! You're never too old to play those games!" he said defensively, his mouth forming a slight pout as he waved his arm lightly by his side.

He looked adorable. You knew that. He had always been charming, but you never took the time to look at his face and appreciate his wonderfully cohesive features.

His chubby cheeks and sun-kissed smile were attractive individually, and they didn't ruin each other together. You wished you were less influenced by them.

"You can be too old to learn to read the room and notice that some people just don't want to talk to you," you laughed, making sure the noise from the back of your throat sounded sarcastic enough. "But don't worry, you're still young! You can learn now, starting with me!"

Jisung's eyes dimmed, and his grin fell flat. You could visibly see his gears turning and his demeanor changing when he realized you were being hostile on purpose. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in mild dismay as he leaned back. 

He has met people like you before. If anything, he has encountered people far worse than you. It wasn't that you acted so distantly that you made him click his tongue and drop his bubbly personality, but that you were a close friend of Jiae. The chirpy and sweet Jiae who sat with his circle of friends every day. 

He was never one to judge. He believes in the phrase: everyone is going through something you don't know about, and he had always chosen to keep the negative thoughts to himself. However, when Jiae mentioned you used to be her best friend back in middle school, he thought you would be brighter.

His expectation of you was so much higher than bitter and mean.

“That’s not nice,” he said. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

You were pleasantly surprised that he bit back but also not too weirded out that he did. After all, people like him were the most likely to defend themselves. 

Tilting your head, you shrugged. 

"A lot of people in this school didn't do anything to anyone, yet people like you–“ You closed your mouth and exhaled quietly, staring at his clueless expression without the willpower to make accusations. You couldn't possibly blame all cases of bullying on him; he's probably never hurt anyone in this school. Neither should you fight fire with fire.

“Never mind,” you said. “You need to learn how to let people be a little mean to you. You can’t expect everyone to defend themselves without ever getting hurt yourself.”

Jisung rubbed his lips together and sulked. You were right. Besides, he was the one who initiated an unwanted conversation. Discreetly, he looked behind his shoulder at his table of friends before turning back to you, ignoring the expression of complete boredom you were showing him.

“Actually,” he started, his voice soft and his shoulders shrunk. “I have a favor to ask."

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"You know prom is coming up, right?”

"No, Jisung. Thank you so much for telling me," you mumbled, sipping your apple juice. "I never see all the informational flyers they put up over the school to let us know what theme this year's prom will be."

Jisung sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to smile through your sardonic remark. "Anyway, I wanted to ask Jiae to prom, but I…" His voice trailed off when you held up your hand to stop him.

He waited curiously as you turned your head to the side to finish your drink, crushing the carton in your hand and throwing it back onto the trade. Your pursed lips brushed against each other as you held back a burp. Well, you'll be damned! The universe was helping you ensure Jisung never ended up with you!

"Let me guess," you said, looking away solemnly as if staring off into the ocean, and then you turned back to him.

"You want me to help you ask her to prom because you don't know what to do and what she likes. However, since she claims I am her best friend, you think I would be a good candidate for your prom proposal project."

“Yes!”  Jisung replied after a moment. “Was that predictable?"

"Yes. When ten out of ten people who approach you ask for a favor, you learn many people don't have any real issues to deal with because they'd have to take it up with a professional if it is serious, so don't blame yourself too much." You shrugged." Also, the answer is no. I can't help you.”

"You can't help me or you won't help me?" Jisung asked.

“I can’t, and I won’t.”

“Why?” 

"Oh my god, it's like you lack any thought process." You chuckled in disbelief, but some of you found humor in this situation, where his logic had flown out the window. 

"Jiae is not the same person she was in middle school. I don't know what she likes now. You have better chances asking people in your friend group for help than asking me," you said.

"I don't know which screw got lost in your head, but it is fascinating that you'd rather turn to a stranger for help before asking your friends."

His lips quirked downward. “How would you know I haven’t already asked my friends?”

“Because you wouldn’t be asking me if you did,” you said, the lightheartedness in your voice made into a tone of mockery. “People like you love those things. Embarrassing public proposals, taking pictures of regular food, talking so loud people can hear your business from five yards away. Whatever.”

Jisung gulped down a grumble in his throat. More than being defensive about the stereotypes you seemed so fixated on, he was disturbed that you tossed him and his friends into the group of people like that. 

There was nothing wrong with being that way, of course. Some people enjoy attention, and some people love to gossip, but he wasn't so illiterate as to not understand what group of people you were referencing and how you felt about them. He didn't think he was part of that group. 

Popular? Yes. Superficial? A little! Horrible? No.

The drop in his optimism was hard to miss. However, even though you felt terrible, you thought it was necessary if you wanted him to keep a distance from you permanently. The soul mark under your arm can never be revealed, and you didn’t feel like deliberately hiding it for the rest of your life. 

Having him be as far removed from your life as possible, to not even have any mutual acquaintances, was the way to go.

"For what's worth, Jisung, I think you'll be fine." You stood up, one hand holding onto the food tray as you left your seat. As you brushed past him, you lightly bumped the tray against the top of his head. This was your farewell. "Good luck to you."

His eyes followed your back. He watched you empty your tray and return it by the kitchen window. You jogged towards the stairway and disappeared upstairs.

It has bothered him since the conversation started, but he felt an unexplainable attraction toward you. It wasn't necessarily romantic attraction; you weren't his type, or at least he didn't think so.

He merely felt a desire to get to know you more, even though you spent most of your first encounter talking down to him. 

Turning around, he stared at the vacant seat across him. His hand subconsciously reached for his hair and he pressed on the spot where you hit him with the tray. 

You were certain Jisung had no knowledge of your soul bound with him. Yet, somehow, he has been bugging you any chance he got.

He was there during lunch when you ate alone and recess when you sat in your classroom with your head buried deep in your arms. He was also there during joint PE classes when you sat on the sideline watching other students play a foul basketball game. 

You have underestimated his stubbornness in befriending you, which source was muddy and confusing. At this point, you were convinced that no number of one-word answers and defeated sighs would deter him from trying to talk to you.

He has singlehandedly developed your instinct to examine a room as you walk into it, forcing you to follow a new routine to avoid him. 

You started eating lunch at the rooftop, where you met Felix, a transfer student who hadn't yet found his way around the school. After hearing your endeavor to avoid Jisung, which he thought was hilarious, he also agreed to hide with you by the stairway during each fifteen-minute recess. 

With Felix’s help, you have successfully avoided Jisung most of the time. 

Flipping a page of the textbook you borrowed from the library, you calmly scribbled down some important notes you jotted in class as you tried to cultivate a concept sensible enough to understand the topic. 

“I swear these books say something different from what my teacher taught,” Felix complained as he dropped his forehead to the page. He swung his head from left to right as if copying the material into his brain. “I don’t get it! I don’t get it!”

You grimaced and dropped your pencil. Lifting your head from your palm, you reached over and carefully pulled the textbook from his head. His face fell against the table with a thud loud enough to embarrass himself. You let him stay in that position, swallowing the attention of those who looked up from the noise.

"Your class is moving ahead fast," you said, running a finger down the lines in your notebook to check for accuracy. "Did you write any notes from class?"

“No.” He turned slowly with a tearful frown. “The teacher talks too fast. I couldn’t really understand him.”

"That's," you licked your lower lip, "I can't help you now, but I made some notes while preparing for the chapter. You can use them to see if they help."

He shot up, forcing his chair into a squeak. Your sharp gaze peered over at his face, and he pursed his lips bashfully, trying to hide his presence by shrinking his body. Discarding the second noise commotion, you went into your folder in search of what Felix needed. Once you found it, you put it on the table to check for anything illegible.

A black-colored schoolbag suddenly dumped itself next to you, startling you and Felix. Your pencil scrapped a big line across the paper as you leaned away with a breath hitched in your throat. 

Felix eyed the newcomer with an awkward smile, his body already turning away to his belongings so he could pack up. He has heard enough of Jisung from you to know he didn't want to sit around your bickering. Confused by his reaction, you turned to look briefly and then immediately turned away, closing your eyes and sucking down a lump of frustration upon the familiar sight of a squirrel keychain.

"You again," you mumbled as you grabbed your eraser from your pencil case to clean up the mess you made on your notes.

“Yes, indeed.” Jisung plopped down on the chair next to you. “It is I.”

A triumphant smile was evident on his face, both from finding you amongst all the other places near the school and from being able to annoy the living daylight out of you. It was never his intention to do the latter, but he took any reaction he could get out of you as an achievement worthy of celebrating. 

“I see you’ve got a friend,” he said.

“I’m actually leaving,” Felix announced with a wave. When you snapped your head to glare at him for being disloyal, he only gently waved his hands before your face, leaning in but never quite touching you. Soft nothings flew out of his lips, but they were definitely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, I promise.”

He left in the blink of an eye, almost quicker than when he realized curry buns were in the cafeteria. Picking up your jaw, your lips pursed together into a dissatisfied grimace as you faced the table again. Despite the rush, he didn't forget to take your notes with him, that coward! 

“Who was that?”

“Lee Felix,” you replied. “He just transferred here.”

“Oh, no wonder! I’ve never seen him before!”

That was partly your fault. You asked him to hide away with you during all the social hours.

"Are you two friends?" Jisung asked. "Or did your homeroom teacher make you his guide?"

“He’s not in my class,” you said. 

“So…” he fiddled with his thumbs, “you two are friends.”

“Sure.”

You deliberately turned away from him so you wouldn't catch his pitiful gaze. Something about the way his eyes were wide and round was different. His was like a deer, but not a deer in headlights. His eyes were pouty, pathetic, and sad. A foul-proof weapon to get whatever he wants. You have some resolve against that because you were on a mission to stay away from him, but you were not entirely immune to it. 

You understood why he could feel unfairly treated knowing Felix became your friend while you never let your guard down around him, but that wasn’t for him to analyze. 

"Jisung, why are you doing this?" you asked without looking at him. "I already told you I can't help you with the prom proposal."

"I'm not here for the prom proposal," he clarified. "I just wanted to be friends with you."

You pursed your lips together and nodded. That would make your plan backfire. With someone as playful and touchy as him, who knew when he'd want to play around with your sleeves, and then bam! One careless mistake could send the secret flying out to the public, and people would whisper about you, the incompatible and underserving soulmate.

“I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“Why?” he asked. 

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

He shrugged. “I just want to.”

“Apply that to your question,” you said. “I just don’t want to be your friend.”

“That’s different!” he exclaimed quietly. “I don’t understand. You became friends with Felix!”

"What do you want me to do, Jisung?" You dropped your pencil and glared at him. "You find me at the most inconvenient time. You ramble on and on about your problems. I don't have the energy for someone like you! You're–" You clamped your mouth shut as Jisung leaned back against his chair. He tore his eyes away from you for the first time. "I'm just–I'm sorry. I'm drained."

Jisung didn't speak, and your heart dropped in the rare silence. Assuming that he had finally given up, you exhaled and began to collect your belongings. You stuffed your stationaries inside your pencil case and closed up the books, shoving them inside your school bag.

"Wait, where are you going?" Jisung asked after noticing your hasty movement.

"Home," you replied, zipping up your schoolbag and flinging it across your shoulder.

"Wait. Hold on, wait for me," he hissed as he grabbed his schoolbag quickly and followed you into the aisles, his eyes never leaving your figure.

Standing between the narrow space, Jisung trailed closely behind, trying to find an opportunity to speak up. At the same time, your legs moved quickly from one aisle to another, finding the borrowed textbook's original place. When you finally slipped the book in between the perfect gap with other identical textbooks, you turned and bolted out of the library. He watched you, exhaled, and picked up his pace.

“Look, I get it, you're tired. You really don't have to apologize for it,” he said once you were outside. 

"I don't have time to satisfy your savior complex, Jisung," you said. "There are plenty of students like me. Go find someone else."

“You’re literally just saying things now,” he said. “I just want to chat with you.”

“We don’t have anything in common,” you muttered.

“You don’t know that!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

"I'm not a masochist like you, that's for sure," you said as you gripped the strap of your bag. Briefly looking at him, you pulled a face almost condescendingly. "I would never chase after someone who treats me like I treat you."

Jisung stopped following you then. You stalked away, moving further and further away from him. His fingers dangled, barely brushing past each other, and then he rubbed them together until his hand turned into a fist. The corner of his lips twitched, but instead of wallowing in helplessness, he felt wronged and frustrated. 

You were clearly capable of socializing; you could chat with others and go to places with your friends. What was so wrong about him that made you so hostile? Did you truly believe in your words that day at the cafeteria, where you indirectly called him superficial and embarrassing? Was the only difference between him and Felix the bridge of popularity? 

If so, then you were undoubtedly worse than him.

 “You’re the superficial one!” 

You froze with your shoulders hunched up, and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when you turned around and found him stomping toward you, his hair bouncing with every animated step. Leaning back to avoid him crashing into you, you frowned at his accusing finger and even more aggressive ramble. 

"You know nothing about me, and I have done nothing to you! You generalized a group of people you hate and applied that judgment to my friends and me based on less than five commonalities," he snapped. 

"I admit I also did that to you. I thought you were mean and crass, but I changed my mind when I found out you had been hanging out with Felix while avoiding me every chance. You never tried to see where I am coming from or who I am as a person, removed from your assumptions! That makes you worse than me! That makes you a horrible person!"

He didn't know he had it in him to string together so many sentences verbally without stuttering once, especially when speaking from his mind without letting the words load. Before he knew it, his hand flew to cover his mouth, suppressing the urge to throw up apologies. 

You didn't think he had it to tell the hard truth, so his rant was a pleasant surprise. You weren't the least bit offended. If you didn't want to be accused, then you wouldn't have acted the way you did, and your willingness to own up to your horrible personality always made you feel superior to others. However, turning a new leaf was a whole different step to take.

“You knew I was avoiding you?” you asked calmly.

His hand slowly dropped from his mouth, and he nodded. He looked almost grief-stricken, and you supposed he would be. He has probably never been treated this way.

“Do you really think we can be good friends?” 

Jisung looked up curiously. "Why won’t we be?"

“I don’t fit in with your group of friends,” you said. 

He ruffled his hair, his eyes squinted in disbelief. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters to me. People like you don’t have to worry about that because everyone likes you,” you grumbled, a sense of unfairness sparking deep within you. "You've never been the kid who gets pushed over in the cafeteria or the girl who got bet on, so you can shove that."

It was your turn to call him out. You were right. He was never the public plaything, the cafeteria humiliation, nor did he ever attempt to stop those weekly events from happening. Asking you to ignore everything when he was sitting comfortably on top of the social hierarchy was inconsiderate.

"Who did those to you?" he asked instead, choosing to carefully approach you, to take baby steps towards the gate of your heart.

"That's funny. I swear you were in the cafeteria when it happened, too." Your shoulders slacked visibly as you spun on your heels, an eye roll tailing after. "Pretentious."

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to anyone.” He followed you. “I care. I really do!”

“Gee! How noble of you!” you mocked. "You care now because you need my help with the prom proposal. I don’t need that kind of pity.”

Jisung let out a groan of frustration, one that was loud enough to make you halt to a stop again. It felt more aggressive than the rant just a moment ago. 

"I'm only going to say this one last time. I am not talking to you because I need your help," he exclaimed. His hands were deep in his hair, borderline pulling them from his scalp, and he was sure it would be less painful than this conversation. 

Letting his hair go, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply enough to calm himself. "You intrigued me. I don't know how or why, but you did, so now I want to be your friend. That's it."

It was the truth. You never once doubted that he genuinely wanted to start a friendship with you. The problem was you. You were so afraid of being found that you would rather stab him over and over again than accept him, even though you didn't hate him at all.

You gulped hard, giving yourself some time to think. "There is no point in us being friends when you have closer friends to hang out with."

He shook his head with a disagreeing frown. “I have friends outside of the group I always hang with. Just because we are not as close doesn't mean I don’t still value their friendship.”

A fleeting friendship. He would still hang out with you, but most of the time, he would be around his existing friends, which would eat away the time he could spend with you. You would never ask him to choose you over his friend group, and you didn't feel like wasting your time maintaining a distant friendship if you could just pretend he was never in your life. 

That way, you never have to worry about each other. That way, things would be the way they were supposed to be. You were used to that. 

“Agree to disagree,” you said. “I’d rather commit to a few people full than have to spare minor commitments to several others. I’m not willing to spend that kind of effort for someone who is just a friend.”

You waited for his response. He heard you, loud and clear. Through the silence, he could finally look at you for the first time. He took everything you said into consideration, his eyes boring holes into your features and sending shivers down your spine with their intensity. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He poked at it impatiently, his nail clanking against the screen.

"What are you doing?" you asked in defeat.

“Here," Jisung replied as he showed you his phone. The screen showed his calendar, where he marked all the upcoming events and important dates. Birthdays, hangouts, tests, and extracurricular activities. “I am really good at managing my time. I promise I will make time for you. I will make space for our friendship to flourish.”

Your eyes moved between his phone and his face. A noticeable heat brewed under your uniform, and it tried its mightiest to stretch the nerve around your lips into a smirk. You didn't want to feel optimistic about this, so you focused on the fingerprints on his screen and slowly smacked your tongue against your top front teeth. 

It just occurred to you that he has continuously made accommodations for you. You wouldn’t initiate conversations, so he did. You wouldn’t find him during free time, so he did. You didn’t like to talk too much, so he filled the space. You didn’t like fleeting friendships, so he made space. 

All of that for what? To be friends with someone like you?

"I'm sorry," you muttered after a sigh, touching your forearm and avoiding eye contact with him. “You’re going to regret being my friend.”

"That's not up to you to decide," Jisung said. 

You couldn't deal with the risk of letting him know, and you didn't have the energy to hide your mark constantly. But even more than that, your weak heart couldn't handle seeing Jisung look as defeated and sulky as he did whenever you treated him less than decent.

Jisung was your soulmate, after all. As pessimistic of a person as you were, you care about and like him. Enough to try turning over a new leaf.

"I'm heading to the Taiwanese shop," you informed as you started to walk away again.

"Huh? I thought you were going home?"

"I lied. My mom isn't home to make dinner today, so I'm eating outside," you replied, stopping in your tracks and looking behind your shoulder at Jisung, who was still grounded on his spot. You beckoned him over. "Are you tagging along or not?"

Jisung grabbed hold of the straps of his schoolbag as a smile lit up on his face. He rushed over to you quickly, not wanting to waste another minute.

After ordering food, you two went to find a small table in the middle of the restaurant and settled down.

Jisung gave his parents a call about not being able to make it back home for dinner despite your consistent protest that immediately melted away when Jisung let out a playful growl your way to display his sense of dismay. You told him not to act like a dog in public and let it go.

Jisung rubbed his hands together as he placed his food on the table. He snapped the wooden chopsticks open and dug in, quietly praising the food with each slurp of his wonton noodle soup. You focused on your food, not bothering to start a conversation until both of you finished dinner.

Crossing your legs under the table, you leaned against the chair and wiped your mouth with a napkin. “Regardless, you want my help with the prom proposal, right?”

Jisung’s chewing slowed as he smiled up at you sheepishly. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, so it’s okay. I’ll find someone else for help.”

“No, it’s fine.” You shrugged. “It’s better for you to talk to me about a problem. I might actually have something to contribute than me struggling to relate to what you did during the day.” 

He squinted his eyes a little at you. It was probably because you have never spoken to him much about what really goes on inside your head that you appeared entirely unpredictable for him.

Jisung wasn’t saying he was ever good at observing people’s behavior and understanding their feelings. He was always more of a sympathizing and comforting person than analyzing and accessing.

But with you, he couldn’t tell anything at all. Your expression betrays your thoughts, and your tone betrays your words. You mix sharp wit with a mellow voice and joy with exhaustion.

At the last second, you were all up his face about him only caring about his problems, but now you offered to help him with them.

As confusing and rude as you had been to him, he couldn’t feel an ounce of hatred towards you, nor did he ever feel lost in this relationship. Logically, he should have been, but deep inside his chest, something kept tugging him back to you.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “People usually find me to ask for something, so it’s more comfortable if you need me to do something for you.”

"That doesn't sound very nice," Jisung frowned, sitting up straighter as he looked at you with saddening eyes.

"It doesn't, but you get used to it," you said.

He pouted. ”Still, everyone deserves someone who wants to be with them simply because they want to."

You chuckled harshly. The idea was foreign to you—mostly a fault of your own. You weren’t attractive enough for people to be interested in you from the get-go.

You weren’t decent enough for those curious to stay for a long time. You also weren’t too socially endurable, so besides other people getting tired of you, you couldn’t stand being around anyone for too long.

“You wouldn’t understand, and I hope you never do.” You smiled bitterly. A rare, genuine smile, accompanied by your shoulders slacking from tension and your alerted eyes softening. 

It’s a sight that indicated to Jisung the tearing down of your mental walls. A second later, you built it back up again. Your back arched, and your lips pursed. The heartfelt expression changed too fast for Jisung; he didn’t even have the time to store the image in his brain.

“I’ll start by saying I can’t guarantee your success rate because, as I have told you, Jiae and I aren’t friends anymore,” you said.

"We’re also not that close back then. I have no idea why she still goes around announcing that we’re good friends. The last time we hung out was during middle school, and that was it.”

Jisung's confused expression gave you an idea that he didn't really believe you, so you placed your palm on the table and leaned in to assert more confidence. “We are not friends. Have you ever seen me hang out with her before?"

"Uh..." Jisung opened his mouth.

“No, Jisung! You’re thinking, and this question shouldn’t involve any thinking!” You snapped your fingers at his face. “The fact is right in front of you. The answer is no, you have never seen us hang out before.”

Jisung pursed his lips together, taken back by your fast movements. 

"Okay, fine," he said. “Then help me out as my friend. Tell me what she might want. Give me your standard."

You bumped against the back of the chair and snorted with your arms crossed. “Does it look like I have a standard to base upon?"

“Oh, you know!” Jisung whined, "Any celebrities? Fictional characters? Songs?"

You let out another snort as you shook your head comically, "Of course, because fictional characters are so achievable.”

“They can be if you try!” Jisung declared.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You raised a brow. “You know why fictional characters are so desirable because they are not obtainable. It is impossible to become them or be with them. The most enticing part about them is the process of desire, which will promptly be eliminated once you obtain it.”

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re mouthing off about,” he said between chews of his food. “I just know that if my partner has a list of boyfriend goals, then you bet I am giving them everything on the list. That includes fictional character standard.” 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips. The way Jisung furiously wanted to give his love everything they wanted sent shivers down your spine and made you feel a sense of excitement in conjunction with a yearning for a potential future. 

Whoever ends up with him in the future will receive such an immense amount of love that you could feel your envy creeping up, which was in conjunction with bitterness. 

That person could have been you if you weren't so much like yourself.

“I don't think your partner would ask you to do that. I think you're already great,” you said. “If that’s worth anything.”

Jisung's eyes widened at the unpredicted compliment. “You think so?” 

You nodded in confirmation, and he laughed shyly, scratching the back of his head.

“Thanks,” he said. “No one's ever told me that before."

"No way,” you denied in disbelief. “Someone must have told you that you are good enough before. Or anything along the lines of that.”

“I have been complimented before, of course! But telling me I’m a nice guy doesn’t reassure me,” he mumbled.

“I mean–“ You snorted air out of your nose as you looked away. “What else do you want? I’d give anything to be told I’m a nice person.” 

He unknowingly snorted, too. “That requires you to be a nice person.”

“Oh?” You leaned up from the back of the chair and uncrossed your arms. “Suddenly, you’re a comedian! You know how to joke!”

“I’m just saying!” he exclaimed. “I don’t think you are horrible, but you can be mean and unapproachable sometimes. ”

“Yet you approached me.”

“Now who’s the comedian?” He pointed at you with his chopsticks and dropped them on the napkin. 

You waited for him to finish chewing the last of his food. His words irked you, but not in the way one would assume. You still didn’t really care for the consequences of your attitude. You cared to know how you turned out that way or when you changed because you didn’t used to be this way. 

You had a social circle back then, and you were involved in different hobbies, and then your father left the picture, and you were gone.

Looking up at Jisung, who sipped his drink as he casually checked his phone for any messages from his parents, you cast your eyes down when you realized perhaps you did care a little about how others thought of you.

Specifically, you cared about how he thinks of you. You didn’t have to worry about it when you were gatekeeping yourself from him. It was a mistake to let loose.

“Do you really think I’m mean?” 

Jisung slowly looked up at you from his phone. He stopped sucking on the straw when he saw your determined expression, and he dropped his phone and pushed away his drink with a prepared expression as if he had been waiting for this his whole life.

But he wasn’t prepared. He was gently panicking; he thought he hurt your feelings, and that stung his skin terribly.

“No. No, no, no,” he sped out. “Whatever you are thinking of, I probably didn’t mean it that way.”

“How did you mean it?”

“I don’t know? It’s just–“ He sighed. “You were rude to me when I first talked to you.” 

“I guess I was,” you muttered. You avoided his eyes. “I wasn’t always like this.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “What were you like?”

Happier was the most straightforward word you knew to describe it. You had no worries for the future, you had friends, and your parents were still together.

Although, you couldn’t blame your parents’ separation for the bitter change in your personality, at least not entirely. Some part of it was your own doing. You wanted to be cynical and unapproachable to avoid socializing and being known. 

You sniffed and rubbed the tip of your nose, a grimace obvious on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He stared at you in dissatisfaction as you gathered the trash from the table onto your tray. You moved fast and without any words, which he couldn’t find any reason to. Besides that, you were even more upset at his imposing question. 

You wore your schoolbag and stood up. He followed dramatically, bumping into table corners and kicking chairs on his way.

“I like you, [Name],” he clarified, his legs matching your pace. “I really do. I’m sorry!”

“I know,” you said as you slowed down. You peered at him with a smirk. “I’m messing with you.” 

He paused on the spot, the worried frown slowly quirked into a smile.

You could consider him humored.

You spent a week of (debatably) quality time with Jisung. It happened more frequently than you liked, occurring every day after school. 

Each of your hangouts consisted of you denying his offer to eat dinner with you since your mother works late at night, and him arguing that teenagers should always eat with someone to decrease loneliness.  

It felt both relieving and uncomfortable for you to be in such a quiet environment during Saturday lunch.

Jisung was always there to yell in your face about his day after you finished dinner at a random restaurant that you had to force him to pick. The never-ending process of deciding where to eat usually ends with a game of rock-paper-scissors, which the loser has to choose, and Jisung miraculously always lost. 

Now that you had finished lunch at home alone, the quiet process of cleaning up after yourself was deafening. You never had a problem with it, but you supposed it made sense to have a gaping hole in your chest now that Jisung's terrific company has been etched in your brain.

Being without him made any atmosphere duller, even with the television on as background noise.

After covering the unfinished dish with a plastic wrap, you picked the plate up just in time to hear the doorbell ring. Putting the plate back down curiously, you slowly glided to the door, thinking it was just the delivery guy.

"Hello–" You eyes widened and your voice came to a sharp end after you shamelessly swung the front door open. 

"Hi, you!" Jisung greeted, grinning at you with his chubby cheeks and bright teeth. 

You panicked. Your arm was propped up, your hand around the edge of the wooden frame, and you wore short sleeves. It had been too hot inside the kitchen when you cooked lunch, so you had to change it, and you knew very well that your soul mark was entirely on display.

All Jisung needed to do was turn his head a little, and he would catch sight of it.

Quickly, you brought your arm behind your back and smiled up at him. Jisung, who had caught on to the faint ink on your arm and the nervous smile that followed closely behind, tilted his head to the side as his cheerful grin dimmed to a curious smirk.

“I saw your soul-mark there,” he said, pointing at where your arm was propped up. “Why are you hiding it?” 

When you shrugged and shakily told him it was nothing, it only spiked his interest, so he pressed on. He squinted his eyes and carefully removed his shoes by stepping on the outer sole.

You laughed when he began walking inside your home uninvited, but you weren’t sure if you got nervous from his unrelenting gaze or humored that he was visibly shorter after taking off his shoes.

“Oh, come on, what does it say?” he asked.

“Nothing! I wasn’t even trying to hide it,” you replied, forcing the nonchalance into your tone. 

“Then show me,” he said, holding a hand out politely. “If you weren’t hiding it.”

You looked around the living room for any saving grace, but there was none. It was an open space without anything interesting to redirect his attention to. Unfortunately, you were the most interesting thing to him.

You scoffed, feeling your heart pump all its blood onto your neck and cheeks. 

You have been hiding this secret for a week already. 

Given that you have relatively let your guard down around him and knew that he wasn’t the type of person to judge you based on your social status. Given that you two have hit it off very well and were surprisingly compatible. Given that you thought, for a moment, that there was a chance your relationship could work out, you couldn’t tell him. 

You’ve lied for long enough. It would be too awkward to tell the truth. 

Besides, it could have been a honeymoon phase. If you spend more time with him, he could show his real face and change your mind.

"It can't be that embarrassing, can it?” 

He reached for your arm, his fingers curling around it. If he really wanted to yank your arm out of your back, he could, and he would. With a speeding heart, you let out a strangled noise from the back of your throat and decided to turn in a circle quickly, startling him. Your hand flew up to slap against his eyes, which caught him off guard. You backed him up to the nearest wall and held him still. 

"Woah, woah! Okay, I won't look!" Jisung exclaimed defensively, holding his hand up in surrender. 

He could feel you pressed up to his torso as you asked him for confirmation. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of your sudden exert of dominance or more attracted by the proximity you unknowingly bestowed upon him.

"I promise," he confirmed. Seconds later, he felt your hand slip away.

You rubbed your arm shyly, pressing it close to your side. “What are you doing here?"

Jisung's shoulders hunched as he looked around your house. “Nothing much. I just wanted to spend some time with you."

“Why? Were you bored being home alone?” you asked as you returned to the dining table and started to take the plates back into the kitchen, dropping them in the sink so you could deal with them later.

“Uh, yes.” Jisung raised a finger. “But I’m not just here for me! I also really want to hang out with you."

Your eyes squinted at the emphasis of his tone, eyeing him with contemplation as you walked out of the kitchen slowly. It wasn’t out of his character to need constant stimulation from the outside world, either music, public transport, food, or people.

However, how he rubbed his hands and pulled on his fingers spoke an ulterior motive that only he and his savior complex would have. 

“Is this about what I said before? About people asking me for a favor whenever they look for me?”

Jisung blinked at you. You were correct. That thought had been bugging him day and night. He genuinely thought that people should never have to think with such a cynical mindset that was antagonistic towards oneself. His friends should never feel that way, and you especially should not. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied nonchalantly, a pout evident on his face.

You let out a faint laugh as you shook your head, beckoning him to follow you before leading him to your room. Jisung was hesitant as he took the first step inside, but soon, he was drowned in the cozy fragrance of your room and basked in the sight of what was the embodiment of you.

Folded laundry, comic books, posters on your walls, and bed sheet patterns. Everything meant something when it belonged to you; someday, he thought he would be part of the atmosphere. However that would unfold.  

“I knew there would be a pile of clothes in your room. I knew it!” Jisung pointed at the laundry basket in the corner next to your closet. 

“Everyone owns a laundry pile, Jisung.” 

"I knew there would be a lot of books in your room, ha!" He turned and pointed at the bookshelf of textbooks and fiction books stacked on two columns of your shelf. 

“Students tend to have books in their room, Jisung.”

“I knew you like music! Look at all the albums!” He spun and gestured at the albums of your favorite band displayed in a small rectangular space.

“A lot of people like music, Jisung.”

“Okay, what is your problem? I’m trying to get riled up here.” Jisung frowned, and you laughed at his defeated state. 

He slumped down on the floor, leaning his back against the edge of your bed. At the same time, you sat on your rolling chair after turning on the air conditioner so you could put on a sweater. 

“I’m going to ask you again,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

Jisung pulled a face at your mocking tone. ”To steal a glance at your soul-mark, duh."

You pursed your lips together and threw your eraser at him. He giggled as he held up his arm to block his face, your reaction once again kick-starting his interest. 

Why are you so defensive?

"I don't want to talk about it," you said, as if reading his mind.

“Why? Did something happen?"

You hopelessly glared at Jisung, unsure if he was simply dumb at catching onto hints or if his curiosity was really getting the best of his noisiness. You looked away, annoyed but also overwhelmed. Jisung offered you a chance to talk about your feelings; it would be weird if you didn't take it, considering how many emotions you bottle up, even if the topic was you and him.

You just have to be careful.

You sighed, giving in to his semi-pleading eyes. “He wouldn't love me. We're too different."

Jisung raised an eyebrow. "You are so sure he's a he–"he suddenly shot forward–"Oh my god, you already found him."

You had one job.

He sat up on his knees, looking at you with wide and excited eyes before he let out a disappointed groan, snapping his fingers aggressively. “Who is he? Do I know him? Is he from our school? I will go talk to him!"

“It’s nothing exciting,” you replied timidly. “You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

"What are you talking about? He’s your soulmate!” He slumped down onto his legs again and stared at you in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, pouting as he took secret glances at you, hoping for an agreement. When you didn’t give him any, he groaned and smacked his legs. “He’s supposed to love you forever!”

When you threw him a face, he rolled his eyes and shook his hand at you to indicate that he understood your pessimistic sentiment. “Okay, fine. Maybe not forever, but still! He’s supposed to love you.”

"First of all, you said it yourself, he's my soulmate. I don't know why you're being more excited about this than I am," you pointed out. "Second, you have a very fantasized perception of soulmates."

Piping down, Jisung looked at you with squinted eyes, challenging and determined.  His voice was low as he spoke briefly. "How? Elaborate."

You shrugged. You thought it was evident from the get-go. "It's just a link. It's not a predetermined bond. You don't have to love your soulmate if you don't want to. The universe can't force you to do what you don't want to.

“But soulmates!” he exclaimed in a whine. 

He inched forward slowly, moving over to you by the rolling chair and placing his hand on your knee to stop you from spinning. 

"Soulmates have a unique link together. They are supposed to guarantee that someone out there is willing to accept you no matter what, so you don't have to worry about your current problems," he said. "They're a promise that lasts forever!"

You pressed your hand on his, landing on soft initially before suddenly shoving him off your knee. “No one is supposed to do anything. No one is supposed to love anyone.”

“Parents are supposed to love their children,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

You exhaled as you stared ahead. Once upon a time, you thought that too. You still believed in it, somewhat. Your father’s sudden departure left you in disarray; you weren’t sure if you passionately advocated for the idea or had abandoned that hope. 

“They are supposed to,” you muttered. “Alas, some of them don’t.” 

Jisung sat on his heels quietly when you turned around to be by your desk. You leaned your head on your arms and closed your eyes, relishing the peace and quiet you hadn't gotten since he arrived at your home. It felt awkward, almost like you knew he figured something was wrong, and he did. 

You were always so frustrated and hurried. You think and speak fast, yet you rarely say the wrong thing. It was very unlike himself, who had to ensure the words went through his brain if he didn't want to mess up. He figured that was why it was evident whenever you're upset, because the frustration turns into sadness, and you stop arguing.

Rubbing his hands on his pants, he looked around your room again and carefully moved closer to sit by your desk. He looked up, his lips pursing with uncertainty as he poked the side of your leg. 

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

You sighed and turned your head to look down at him. He was small, all curled up to occupy as little space as possible, so you would let him stay around because he knew you hated noise, long rambles, animated gestures, and everything that encompasses himself as a person.

It was guilt-inducing. Looking at him, your soulmate, was painful, from knowing what could have been to how you have treated him so far. But he remained kind and welcoming. For the most part, he did. And he was loud. You knew he tried not to be. You didn't care for it.

You would have forgotten what you were arguing about if he hadn't left such a lasting impression on you for you to care so much. 

How could you ever doubt him in regard to his willingness to embrace his soulmate despite any kind of circumstances? How could you ever even think about Jisung purposefully pushing you away if he ever knew about the truth between you and him? That was unlike him. You knew it wasn't.

“You believe in all of that,” you whispered. “About your soulmate.”

He blinked, the gears behind his round eyes turning. He left his hand near you in the tiny space on your seat.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine not loving my soulmate,” Jisung confessed, staring into your soul. “I really want to meet them.”

You pursed your lips together, desperately wanting to tell him the truth, but your paranoia told you to lie. You were too deep into it. Telling him now would only cause him anger, and you were scared of the consequences despite him admitting that he would, no matter what, be in love with his soulmate.

“You’re so nice, Jisung,” you complimented, your eyes softening with a smile. “I wish everyone was like you.”

His lashes fluttered, but only he felt it. Looking away to compose himself, nervously pulling his fingers and settling his wiggly toes, he bit back a bashful grin by blowing air into his cheeks. You watched his ear gradually turn red, its cause a mystery to you, and you reached a hand down to rub it between your fingers. 

He jumped, his head snapping to look at you as his hand flew up to block the sensation. You retreated immediately, equally as startled by his reaction. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, almost as if he could piece together what happened. 

You frantically tried to find something else to cover up the fact that you subconsciously attempted to soothe the redness on his ear, releasing yourself from your sullen position.

“I–uhm, hey! Do you want to know about my college application process?" you asked.

Jisung furrowed his brows, his jaw agape to say words that refused to come out.

He was sure you touched him—his ears were a weird body part to touch, but he was willing to take whatever you gave him. But he wanted to know what it meant or if you had something to tell him but was deterred by his reaction. Could it have meant something? He should consult the internet about that!

The subject change was ridiculous, too! Have college applications started already? He knew his teachers were reminding the class about it daily. However, the urgency among the student body hadn't started yet, so he assumed there was still time. 

"I–I mean–"Seeing your nervous expression, he decided to let the matter go. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Should we start applying already?"

"I applied a little earlier for a specific college I wanted to attend just to boost my chances. Otherwise, I am applying at the same time as everyone else. You should start preparing for it, though," you said, glancing at him. "I got into the interview round. If I do well during the interview, I'll be accepted."

Jisung widened his eyes. He fist-bumped your arm. “Look at you, being one step ahead of the rest of us.”

"I'm not the only student in our grade who did an early application," you said. 

“But did they all get invited to an interview?”

"I don't know. I'm not really friends with any of them," you muttered as you put together a few pieces of paper. "I started practicing with my mom, and she wrote down some sample questions for me. Here, take a look."

Jisung moved away from leaning on your desk to sitting across from you. You turned your chair and handed him the stack of paper with multiple correction marks. You pursed your lips nervously as you waited for him to finish reading, watching as his mouth moved across each word and his head nodded in understanding.

He has never looked so serious before. You were too used to seeing the animated side of him, and you realized you'd never watched him pay attention to something boring before. He actually looked very decent when he was concentrated. It wasn't a surprise.

"Most of them are good answers." He pointed at the question and flipped the paper around for you to see. "Except for this one." 

You knew all the mock questions and answers like the back of your hand, so you barely had to read what he pointed at. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's asking about what you want to do in the future. I'm guessing if a school is asking that question, they are trying to gauge the student's career path and how it can align with the school's personal interest," Jisung said, looking at you through his fallen bangs. "You can't tell the interviewer you don't have a dream."

“I don’t,” you said. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have anything I want to do.”

“No one is ever honest in an interview," Jisung pointed the tip of the pen at you. “You can lie.”

You shrugged. “I suppose? I’ll just take any job that is offered to me.” 

With the current market, a college graduate would be lucky to be offered a job, so there wasn't the option to choose unless you were extraordinary. But a lot of people are not. Even if many people are extraordinary, it will be oversaturated, and a new standard will emerge. Nobody will ever be good. 

Everyone will only be good for a little bit until they're not enough anymore.

“What? No!” Jisung waved his hand dismissively. “Come on, [Name], you must have a dream job!”

"I really don't. I just want to earn money.” Your lips arched downward. When Jisung frowned at you, you could only roll your eyes. You asked, almost accusingly, ”Don’t look at me like that. Do you have a dream job?” 

Jisung nodded without hesitation. "I want to be a producer.”

“Like a filmmaker?” you asked, tilting your head. “You don’t strike me as a movie watcher.”

“That’s a director,” he pointed at you, “and you are wrong. I love movies. I watch dating shows all the time.”

"Directors are by default also producers because they produce films," you returned the point, "and you are wrong. Dating shows are not movies. They are variety shows."

“You know what I mean!”

“Do I, though?”

Jisung rolled his tongue over his front teeth, a chuckle sneaking onto his shoulders. “Do you have to argue with me about everything?” 

"You think I like to start fights? Is that how it is?" you gritted out playfully, tilting your head to stare at him dead in the eyes. When he breathed out the chuckle, you relaxed and shook your head. "If you're not planning to write stories, are you planning to produce music?"

“You are correct!” he exclaimed with a congratulatory clap. “I sing my own songs during every school talent show.”

“Those are nap sessions to me,” you said. 

The school forces everyone to attend the talent shows, but since the assembly hall would remain dark for most of it, you always used the time to doze off in your seat.

It was a miracle that you've never fallen off the chair, and it's a shame that you've missed every performance Jisung has performed over the past three years. He has never won them, but he must be excellent. 

He pressed his hands to his heart and made a cartoonish gunshot noise. He leaned back, whining in pain. “Oh, you sure are hurtful, [Name]!”

"Don't be dramatic. It's not like I singled you out. I slept through everyone's performance," you said as you leaned forward to kick him. "Are you going to also work part-time as an idol, or do you want to only work behind the scenes?"

"Either one is fine. I don't necessarily have to be in a company. I can get big on doing covers, too," Jisung said.

You nodded in acknowledgment. You couldn’t provide any insight because you knew nothing about the industry besides the songs and a few outrageously famous individuals it produces. 

"Don't forget me when you get famous," you said. "But if you need anything, like an insightful critique on your latest album, do find me. If a hater like me likes it, everyone else will like it too."

“But I will also be hanging out with you,” he said, giving you finger guns. "I'm not going to find you just because I need you to do something for me."

"Uh, have you met me before?"

"Yes, and I hereby announce that I, Han Jisung, adore your presence," he said, dipping his head into a slight bow.

You defeatedly scoffed at him as you pressed your hand to his head, pushing him away from you. “You're so dumb."

"You love me for it!” He grinned.

You sighed inwardly. You do, you really do.

You two shared a moment of silence. You hadn't even realized you two were comfortable enough with each other that a long silence wouldn't result in you wanting to bury your head in your arms and never see the light of day again.

"You're really not going to show me your soul mark?” he said suddenly. “Could you at least tell me who he is? I’ll kick his ass for you."

"Hey, here's an idea. Your debut album should be called 'Jisung really can't mind his goddamn business,'" you said. 

Jisung frowned, turning away from you childishly, and you hoped he always forgets to mind his goddamn business. 

The admission interview landed on a school day and took place at the college of choice. They picked a time after lunch hours so students could ask their teachers for the day’s school work before leaving early. Some students choose not to attend school the day to prepare, but you weren’t one of them.

Your palms were sweaty as you stood before the cafeteria door, debating whether or not you should walk in and look for Jisung. You told him you wouldn’t be having lunch today since you wanted to practice and prepare for the interview on your own, and you urged him to spend lunchtime with his friends instead. 

In retrospect, you should have taken Jisung up on his offer to help you rehearse your answers. It would be better practice to have someone play the role of the interviewer than having you spend most of the time trying not to feel awkward talking to yourself. Besides, his presence would have provided emotional support or a decent distraction. 

You started to panic the more you looked at your notes. The more you panic, the more you stuttered and messed up your practice. By then, thousands of worst-case scenarios had already been through your head, bringing your self-esteem to a negative. 

The only person you thought would be able to calm you down was Han Jisung. Not just because he was your soulmate but also because he was the only friend you’ve got.

Unconsciously, your legs had already brought you to Jisung's table in the cafeteria. When you made your way there, your eyes focused only on his silhouette. His friends ceased to chat with each other when you stood by the table with an unreadable look on your face. It took a brief glance for Jisung to see the worried gleams behind your eyes, and his brows furrowed.

As he opened his mouth, another voice spoke, beating him to talking first. 

Jiae waved excitedly at you, a smile on her face. “[Name]! You are here at the right time. We were just talking about something interesting!"

You removed your eyes from Jisung and turned to look at the unfamiliar girl. You tilted your head to the side, unsure how to respond to her, trying to pull you into the middle of a supposed interesting conversation. “What–what were you talking–”

“Can you get some pudding for my friends and me? We forgot to get them when we were in line to get our food,” she cut you off, reaching a hand out to you on the table. “Gossip sounds better with good food, you know?”

You blinked and turned to look at the line of students waiting with their trays in hand, moving like ants one by one to speak to the lunch lady. She has a terrible tone and was never pleasant, but at least she was willing to talk to you about things other than lunch preferences. Either way, you didn’t come here for this. 

“You can get it yourself,” you said.

“But we are in the middle of an interesting conversation!” She pouted. “I didn’t want to pause it. That’s why I’m asking you for a favor.”

Jisung brushed his hand on his pants and turned to Jiae. He didn’t know they were missing the dessert or that it was essential to the conversation. But since you were already here to speak to him anyway, he thought he could do that and deal with the pudding problem on his way back. “Actually, I got it–“

“You’re in high school. How interesting can your conversations really get? What else do you talk about besides celebrities who accomplished something in their life and some other dumb things?” you retorted with a faux dismissive frown. “The shop is literally right there. It won’t take you five minutes.”

Jisung snapped his head around to grimace at you. His eyes widened in panic because he never thought you would take a jab at his friends. You caught his glance and shrunk. 

“My god, if you’re gonna be annoying about it!” One of the girls got up from her chair with a scoff. She faintly checked your shoulder as she walked past you. “I’ll get the damn pudding since it’s so fucking hard to.” 

“Thank you,” Jiae sounded after her friend before returning to the table.

It was awkward and quiet after the unnecessary scene. Everyone at the table pretended to peer at you discreetly and mutter under their breath.

They made sure it appeared as your fault and wanted you to see that they were being the bigger person and not directly accusing you of it. Except they were. They were stealing glances at you and talking amongst themselves. 

“That wasn’t nice, [Name],” Jiae said. “I didn’t know why you said those.”

You flicked your nails with increasing velocity. There was an urge to apologize. You told yourself to hold it back. When you spoke, it wasn’t defensive or demanding. You sounded confused. “I didn’t say anything wrong.” 

Waiting in line to buy the pudding for a bunch of people or being ostracized in real-time by them shouldn’t even begin to top your list of worries now. You’ve got more important things to deal with! You’ve got college, your future!

“You provoked me first!” you pointed out desperately. “I came here with a valid reason, not to get bossed around by you people.”

“'You people' is some way to describe your fellow classmates.”

“Asking for a small favor is apparently provocative now.”

“What? I didn’t mean it like that.” Your pleading eyes turned to Jisung. 

He was the only one who would most likely get you out of this situation compared to anyone else sitting around the table. He tensed up as if all his friends’ eyes were on him and they were all judging his next move. 

You’ve put him in a terrible position. Between his friends and you, who were also his friends, he understood that Jiae should not have continued to push you to do something you refused. Her friend also should not have made a scene out of something trivial. But you also said something you shouldn’t have.

You knew you were wrong because you two talked about a variety of things when you two were together. Why couldn’t you apply that to him and his friends?

Jisung licked his lower lip, watching your fingers fumble with each other and your teary eyes gleaming with hurt. He curled his fists tightly as he turned to Jiae, who stared at him expectantly, and he looked down at the table.

“I…” he bit his tongue. “I don’t know.” 

You gave him a few seconds to say anything else before you breathed out a hopeless scoff, realizing he had chosen all his friends over you. You supposed that was normal. He has known them for years, and they probably never forced him to work for their friendship.

It was easier being their friends than it was being yours. You were sure of that. It just hurt to have it backfire. 

He felt a harsh tug at his chest, a sharp pain that beat along with his slow heart when he saw the disappointment on your face. Not the playful kind of disappointment he has always seen from you. This was genuine, paired with a few tears quickly wiped away. 

You let your guard down to ask for him, and he ignored you. This was a true heartbreak. A faint moment of hatred that you held for him flashed before your eyes before you turned around and walked away.

“Wait, [Name]!” He shot up from his seat, leaving his group of friends to follow you out of the cafeteria. 

You sped through the hall with him high on your tail, apologies flying out of his mouth until there was barely any meaning attached to them anymore. Once you arrived at your locker, you stopped and turned to him, a veil dark over your eyes.

“What do you want?” you asked.

He exhaled with difficulty. Your eyes freaked him out. It was the same from when he first tried to befriend you, back when you hated his guts and wanted nothing to do with him. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t revert to the beginning. He cared about you too much for you to not want to know him anymore. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” you said and opened your locker. “Leave me alone. I have to go soon.”

“Oh, come on,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. I really am. I froze and just… I don’t know what happened either.”

“That’s convenient.” You randomly messed with the things in your locker. “The next time I do something horrible, I’ll tell them I don’t know what came over me.” 

Jisung groaned, but he was left speechless. He wasn’t sure what else to say or do if an apology wasn’t good enough for you, and rewinding time wasn’t possible.

“You came looking for me,” he said. “You don’t have to forgive me, but at least let me help you with whatever it was.”

“Yeah, right,” you stuttered out a fake chuckle. “I’m gonna let you help me after the phenomenal help you just provided.”

This might be the rare occasion where he let time deal with the mistake instead of going out of his way and making an embarrassment of himself by sticking his head into the mud by your feet.

You would be furious if he did that. It would be more embarrassing for you to receive that kind of apologetic attention than for him to be treated less than human. He wouldn’t complain. He did it first. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hands uncomfortable by his side. “Please try to forgive me.”

His lovely eyes drew you into him, an uncontrollable habit of the mind. You tried to let yourself give in. You wanted to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that only a tiny table of students were there to experience the invisible bullying, that it could have been much worse! 

But it hurt looking at him. It reminded you that you weren’t the only person in his life and that he had other friends he’d been around for much longer than he’d known you.

It gave you a reality check that just because you two were soulmates, it didn’t mean you had an advantage. It told you that even though Jisung swore to love his soulmate, he didn’t love you when he didn’t know you were the one.

If you two hadn’t been soulmates, perhaps he would have never cared at all. Did that not defeat the defining feature of love? The choice was there. He didn’t choose you.

“I have something to do,” you muttered. “I’m gonna go.”

You raised the arm opposite to the locker door, and he subconsciously leaned his head toward it. But you only reached over to close your locker, slowly revealing that your other hand was occupied with books. 

“Oh hey. I didn’t think you’d be up here today,” Felix greeted when he saw you emerge from the rooftop door. 

He sat up from trying to nap on the floor, his eyes squinted to avoid the sun. You approached him sluggishly and sat down, dropping your books by your hip. He raised a brow curiously as you leaned back onto your arms and sighed like you’d walked a mile. 

“Did the interview happen early?” he asked. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks. I’m confident I will do well,” you replied. “I’m feeling the jitters.” 

He raised a brow for a moment before he mirrored your action and put his face under the sun, feeling its warmth. “Those statements contradict each other.”

“I’m sure this is the speaking condition I want to have going into an interview,” you said. 

He laughed, and you relaxed your shoulders. You sometimes forgot Jisung wasn’t the only person who could alleviate your stress. He was merely the first person you thought to go to. Over these past few weeks, you have become good friends with Felix, and he shares your burdens and even knows of the past you never told Jisung. 

Things would have been different if you had come to the roof first. His sunny disposition could also be what you needed.

“Do you think I’ll do well?” 

Felix opened an eye to peer at you. He hummed thoughtfully for show before he replied, “I don’t know. These things are unpredictable, but I really hope you will.”

“See, Jisung would have told me I would do so well, but they would be stupid not to accept me.”

“But I’m not him. That’s why you came up here to find me,” Felix said. “My response was different than his, wasn’t it?” 

You opened your eyes and hunched forward, leaving the sun in your shadow. From how he sounded, he wasn’t upset that you’ve considered him a second option. You felt guilty, nonetheless, because you cared about him a lot. You never wanted him to feel less as a friend in any capacity.

“I swear nothing gets past those detective skills,” you said, looking at him as he enjoyed the sun. You stayed silent momentarily before suddenly speaking, “I’m glad you’re here to help me, Felix.”

He grinned, finally opening his eyes and raising his brows at you. “It’s no problem.”

“I see you’ve cut your hair,” you said, gesturing to your head. “I thought your blonde hair was natural when you first told me you moved here from Australia.”

“It is,” he said. “They wouldn’t believe me and forced me to dye it black.”

“I don’t believe in you,” you hummed. “You look horrible, too.” 

You patted your school uniform as you left the entrance of the universe after politely bidding the receptionist goodbye. 

There was no way for you to tell whether you’ve done a great job. The professors’ expressions were reserved as you were speaking to them. Only a smile could be seen when the grueling process was finally over. Now it’s just the gut-wrenching process of waiting for the letter.

You strolled across the campus. When you first arrived, you were in awe of how big it was, and now you just disliked the distance it would take to get out of here. 

Gently sighing, you ran the interview over in your head a few times more, finding the conversation different each time as you falsified your memories to shine a negative light on yourself, all so you could force down the hope of acceptance in yourself.

You believed in your opinion of how you did, which was downright horrible. It wasn’t a good feeling to distrust your ability, but you figured it would be worse when the rejection letter came in, and you thought you had a chance, so you didn’t stop yourself.

After texting your mother and Felix about how things went, you left the chat box and were disappointed that Jisung hadn’t sent you anything since lunch. He shouldn’t have to, but you thought he would. 

After several hours of not thinking about him and what happened, you were much less angry than you were. Besides, you wanted to talk to him about the interview. You convinced yourself to feel bad about how you did and wanted him here for support. 

Pausing your feet, you clicked his name and stared at the chat box. You typed something, deleted it, retyped something else, and deleted it again. What should you say? That you forgave him? That you were sorry for making something out of nothing? That you were done wrestling with your conscience and you were actually his soulmate?

Tears dropped onto the screen, and you wiped them away. You turned the phone off and wiped your eyes with your arm, walking amongst sounds of sniffing and whimpers as you prayed that no college students walk by. 

Brushing your uneasy hands together, you blinked away the tears and stopped momentarily again when you saw a familiar figure standing at the entrance arch of the campus. He caught sight of you, too, and reluctantly raised his arm to wave at you. 

You hiccuped in question but began to walk toward him. Jisung’s face slowly came into view the closer you approached. Eventually, you were close enough for him to see that you had been crying.

He pursed his lips, his hands curling and uncurling. “It went that bad?”

His soft voice hit your heart and squeezed your tear ducts. You cried, giving frantic nods in between. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“It went that bad,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but–“you hiccupped–“I don’t–I don’t believe you.”

His heart dropped. You weren’t talking about school or the interview anymore. You were talking about him. 

He didn’t know what to do. You have a comeback for everything he said and one for everything he planned to say. It didn’t occur to him that maybe not saying anything was the best thing to do, but there were many wordless ways to reconcile besides—he exhaled nervously. 

There was one way. He doubted you’d like it.

He gently pulled at your wrist and brought you toward him. He hugged you loosely. His skin was warm, and so was yours, but you felt hotter than anything because of the sobbing. The shape of his body was not extraordinary; he was like every teenage boy, and most of them were not athletic. His hands were careful, as they should be, in an attempt to comfort.

There wasn’t anything to him, but this was your first hug with someone your age, someone you liked. 

It was impressive, to say the least, how easy it was for you to drop yourself at his hands entirely. 

“I’m…” he closed his mouth and hugged you tighter. “I was a coward.”

You pressed your mouth to his shoulder and hugged him back, tears sticking his shirt to his skin. Your cries were muffled, but even without that, they were quieter and contained within the peripheral of his hearing. 

“You hurt me.” Your nails dug into his back. Your soul mark pressed across his spine. “You hurt me.”

“Yes.” He bit the inside of his lower lip to avoid apologizing and to stop the sound of tears cleanly falling down his cheeks. “I will never do that again.”

You could hear him cry. He couldn’t hide his sadness if his life depended on it. You wished you stood your ground longer, but torturing him was never your intention, and it was for the first time you believed he meant everything he said. He’s sorry, and he’ll never do it again.

“Do you want to have dinner somewhere?” you asked after you pulled away. “I’m starving.”

“Actually,” his voice was strained as he threw himself off his train of thought, “all of us are heading over to Jiae’s home for dinner and a sleepover. “

You furrowed your brows. “That's sudden.”

“It’s actually not.” He scratched the back of his head. “Seungmin shit-talked us into apologizing to you, and we thought this would be a good opportunity.” 

“He should have spoken up when it was happening,” you said.

"I know. He must have his reasons not to.” Jisung said. "But can you come along anyway? I'd love it if you will. You can get to know my friends. They’re not all bad, I promise.”

You sighed. If he opened his mouth to ask, how would you refuse? He could be right. It may require some getting used to before they let you blend into their friend group. You also had a bad first impression of Jisung, and you gave him a chance. You could do that for his friends.

"Can we get something to drink first?”

"Of course," he said. “It’s my treat. Tell me everything about the interview.”

“Ugh, don’t even remind me,” you groaned, taking impatient steps forward.

He laughed at your eagerness, his hand slowly gliding down until it met yours. Your fingers were loosely interlaced. It was timid and tender, like hugging a ticking bomb. You went on about the interview, what they asked, how the professors were, and how you replied to their questions. 

Slowly and carefully, your fingers were wholly locked together. Neither of you minded.

Spin the Bottle is a better game than Truth or Dare.

Truth or dare engages people in dense, involuntary acts and unconvincing lies that people have to spring up on the spur of the moment. Spin the bottle serves a chance that it might never land on you. Even if it did, so what? A kiss on the cheek will always suffice.

You kept repeating it in your head as you sat in a circle of unfamiliar people. Jiae insisted that you sit beside her despite her friends sending you uncomfortable glances. 

Jisung, who sat across from you, shared a pointed look with you before the game started that asked if you wanted him to step in and pull you out of your position.

You had shook your head. The tension was awkward enough when you showed up, and his desperate vouch for you made it worse when his friends verbally questioned your presence. You didn’t want to make it worse by refusing to sit where you were wanted. 

In retrospect, you should have thought this through. All you did all night was rub your arms and feel out of place. Jisung could try to include you, but he also has to engage with his friends and could never be at two places at once.

You had gobbled your dinner so you could hide in the kitchen, where you had a decent conversation with Seungmin, who admitted that he should have spoken up at the cafeteria this afternoon but also did not feel bad that he didn’t. You appreciated he stood by his decision. You thought you two could become friends because of it. 

Annoyed groans ensued after a round of Jisung frantically smooching Hyunjin’s cheek. People who enjoyed the game were always the most boring to observe, but even you couldn't help but breathe out a giggle or two at their over-exaggerated action. 

After the two lovebirds were finished, Hyunjin reached out to turn the water bottle. It landed on Seungmin, who rolled his eyes when his friends whistled and hollered. 

He got down from the couch and reached over to turn the water bottle. You focused on it intently, watching as it slowed to a halt and realizing that the tip of the bottle was pointed directly at you.

You opened your mouth and attempted to scoot off to the side. "Oh, I think it is pointing at you, Jiae."

“What? No, it’s not.” Hyunjin leaned down to the level of the bottle. He opened one eye for accuracy as it shifted between the bottle and you. “Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s on you, [Name].”

You blew air out of your mouth, your eyes widening awkwardly. Talk about speed-running a friendship. You just introduced yourselves to each other in the kitchen, and you openly accused him of keeping silent when you were being picked on while he explained it by telling you he didn’t really care when it was happening. 

Looking over at Jisung, you saw that he was suppressing a giggle, gesturing to his friend and whispering inside jokes you would never understand. You shuddered when you caught his eyes while he shrugged, hardening his gaze at you mischievously.

Upon the silence, Jiae gigged as she waved at Seungmin. 

“I know you’re not being shy,” she said. “Or do you just not want to kiss them?”

“You’re right,” Seungmin replied monotonously. “I don’t want to kiss them.”

Your jaw dropped with a disdainful scoff. His expression was valid, but you didn’t like that he said it first. 

“I don’t want to kiss you either. I barely know you,” you retorted. “You’re not all that, Kim Seungmin.”

“Where did that even come from?” he questioned with a raised brow. “This can’t be about what I said in the kitchen, can it?”

“What did you say in the kitchen?”

“What if it is?” You both ignored Hyunjin’s question. You leaned forward with a glare, but your lips quirked gradually into a patronizing smirk. “Why does it matter to you? I thought you didn’t care.”

“I didn’t.”

“The conversation would have ended way earlier if that’s true.”

Hyunjin nudged Jisung’s side with his elbow as his eyes darted between you and Seungmin, who were sparking up a lightning line across your glares. Jisung turned to him, equally as confused but intrigued by the conversation differently.

Hyunjin was here for gossip. Jisung wanted to know when you even had a conversation with Seungmin and what you guys talked about that was enough to allow you two to argue like this—

“Dude,” Hyunjin giggled under his breath, “this is the beginning of every rival to lovers story.”

—like you two had chemistry together. 

Seungmin pursed his lips in silence as he accessed your furrowed brows. Next to you was Jiae, whose fingers uncontrollably tapped against her crossed legs impatiently. 

If there was anything he knew, he was in better standing with you than with her because of all the accusations he threw at the friend group this afternoon after Jisung left the table. 

She was making an attempt to single you out and humiliate you. You were trying to put him down out of a personal grudge. He disliked you less than he couldn’t care about her.

Most importantly, he wanted to spite you both.

“I’ll kiss you,” he said. “Actually, I’ll kiss you on the mouth because I don’t care.”

You widened your eyes and stuck your tongue to your inner cheek, a chuckle of disbelief vanishing when you watched him get up from the couch to walk toward you. He never struck you as someone who would care about his first kiss, or a kiss. You couldn’t imagine someone like him having a first kiss already.

You wanted to move out of the way or to verbally protest, but the competitive spirit in your heart told you to go through with it so you wouldn’t be some big loser. 

You glared at him when he crouched in front of you, leaning away from his hand when he tried to hold your face. “Are you serious?”

Seungmin smirked triumphantly, his nose scrunching. “Scared?”

“Who’s scared?” 

“You are.”

“I’m–“ you pursed your lips and exhaled. “I’m not. I just–“

Before you finished your sentence, he leaned in to plant a peck on your cheek, causing you to gasp. Your hand automatically flew up to grip his wrist, a flushing heat spread over your face when he leaned away and met eyes with you. The hair on your neck rose at the unexpected occasion, and if you weren’t so appalled, you would have noticed the tint of red on his ears.

Jisung's initial playfulness was partially gone when you and Seungmin were bantering. It has completely vanished now that the deed was done. At his angle, he wasn’t sure if his friend really kissed you on the mouth, and your reactions gave him no benefit of the doubt.

He rolled the inside of his bottom lip over his front teeth; grind, pull, grind, pull. There was a knot in his stomach he couldn’t loosen and frustration in his fists he couldn’t uncurl. When the stare you and Seungmin shared prolonged for over a few seconds, he forced himself to look down at his lap.

He hadn’t realized it, but all that crossed his mind was that he was being close. Seungmin was being too close to you. It was out of his comfort zone. He wanted to get between you and laugh him away. 

“Jisung! Spin the bottle!"

He snapped out of his thoughts. Seungmin returned to his seat on the couch, and you looked at him curiously. Everyone was looking at him, but you were the only face he cared to decipher. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and turned the bottle. His heart beats with every turn, flickering with prayers that it lands on you. Not just because he wanted to kiss you but also because he couldn’t fathom kissing anyone else. 

Miraculously, the tip of the bottle landed on you again. There was a gentle uproar in the circle as Jisung’s visibly perked up. In his head, he had already crawled over to you and pressed his lips against yours. In his dreams, you accepted it. 

In his dreams, you were together, love clear, and hearts inter-winded. He always woke up blushing, recalling every moment as he stared at the ceiling until his mother came knocking. 

It also plagued him sometimes. He wasn’t sure how he could explain to his future soulmate that he had already fallen in love with someone else.

Your alarmed gaze met his when he searched for you. There was a burn where your soul mark was, and you palmed over it uneasily. When Seungmin spun the bottle, you didn’t particularly cared if he kissed you outside of the conditioned value that a kiss was meant between lovers. But with Jisung—he’s too important. 

This would be the closest you have ever been with each other. His lips on your skin. It could not happen because of some stupid game. It could not be dictated by a sleepover activity you didn’t want to participate in.

“[Name]! Can you change out the water bottle? It’s been squeezed so much it doesn’t even turn that well anymore,” Jiae requested quickly when she noticed Jisung getting up. She moved to the center, grabbed the plastic bottle, and handed it to you. “Here. You’re such a love!”

“Huh? It’s a plastic bottle. You can just blow it back up–" Hyunjin clamped his mouth shut when the girl threw him a threatening smile.

You received the bottle reluctantly but nodded anyway. This was a good reason to escape the game. Without arguing, you stood up and walked out of the living room. Jisung watched your departure with disappointment, his feet pausing into a dejected position. Hyunjin yelped when he dropped his weight on the floor and sulked. 

“Why would you do that?”

Jiae, who had sat down with a satisfied expression, tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Why did you do that?” Jisung looked up, frustrated but not rude enough to show his anger. He rubbed his face and dropped his head between his knees, a bored and monotonous hum fleeing his mouth. “I almost had it. You ruined my chance. Seungmin did it and you ruined mine.”

“Jisung?" Hyunjin called gently with a poke to his friend’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not!” Jisung exclaimed. He let go of his face and sighed. “You’re being rude. You have been rude to [Name] this whole time. Getting puddings, switching out a water bottle. They’re my friend, too!”

Jiae looked startled, as did everyone else. Jisung had never been one to scold. He was always the mediator while the others stepped up to make everything worse. This headstrong side of him has only been brought out by you, back at the library when he accused you and this moment. 

Ever since what happened at the cafeteria, there was no chance that Jisung would let that kind of disappointment flash before your eyes again.

“That’s one way to make sure she’ll go to prom with you, Jisung,” someone said.

“I haven’t even asked,” Jisung said. “I don’t think I plan to anymore.”

There was a moment of painful silence. Hyunjin and Seungmin shared a knowing glance with each other, acknowledging that your presence alone might have just ruined the overall atmosphere of their friend group, but their eyes were accepting when they turned to look at Jisung.

If Jisung cared about you this much to break out of his comfort zone, they would do the same.

“Um, I’m not sure if it’s okay, but I got a different type of water bottle.” You entered the living room again to be welcomed by a dreadful quietness. Glancing at Jisung questioningly, you decided to stand by the door and wait it out.

Jiae rolled her eyes and scoffed. Scrambling onto her feet, she brushed past you to leave the living room. “Whatever, I'm heading to bed. You guys can have the guest room."

You made space as her friends scooted past you, leaving you bewildered. Last time you checked, it only took you a minute to get a new water bottle, not half an hour. Hyunjin and Seungmin got up, too, the taller boy dragging his friend along and bidding you a cheerful farewell before disappearing into the hallway. 

"Nothing happened," Jisung replied without your need to ask.

“Okay.” You eyed him suspiciously as he approached you. “I'm gonna head back home then."

"What? No, stay,” he said, gesturing upstairs. “We're all sleeping in the guest room.”

“Your friends–“

“Would love to get to know you too.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. There must be a limited number of beds in the guest room, if there wasn’t just one. You would not be comfortable sleeping with strangers and weren’t sure if you were ready to be so close to Jisung. Your odd presence would mess up the sleeping arrangement, so you’d rather leave peacefully. 

“I’ll sleep in the living room. You go hang out with your friends,” you said. “This is a sleepover. Go and have fun. Besides, it’s the best chance for you to ask Jiae to prom right now.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but you interrupted him by pushing him back and getting him out of the living room.”  Don’t make this more complicated than it has to be. I’ll stay here, I promise. You will see me in the morning.”

He pouted, looking at you as he took a few steps back. He stopped by the staircase, his hand holding onto the railing in hopes that you would change your mind at the last minute, but you only shooed him away with your arms. 

"I'll be fine. I have the couch all to myself," you said. "Go have a nice girl talk."

You shut the door between the hallway and the living room and turned around to face the empty area. With a tired sigh, you moved over to your bag and got out your essentials, preparing to start your nighttime routine alone.

Jisung had woken up in the middle of the night. His groggy eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light outside the window before he stood up and carefully stepped over his friends who slept on the floor. He put his arms out to feel for the walls and any obstacles as he headed for the kitchen to get a well-deserved glass of water.

Opening the door to the living room, his eyes trailed from the dining table to the couch, and it hit him that you had chosen to sleep on the couch. He tilted his head to the side, his thirst for water disappearing as he approached your sleeping figure instead. The floor beneath him was cold, but the edge of the couch where you lay wasn’t. 

He knelt at the side, his arms flat against the soft surface with his chin on top.

Your peaceful face was one of the things he loved about you. You were utterly unguarded and unaware. Sometimes, he thought the only time you weren’t angry was when you were asleep, and he wished things were different. He wished nothing bad ever happened to you. 

Reaching out to gently trace the back of his finger against your cheek, his eyes admired your features every step before they landed on your arm.

The sleeve of your sweater was scooted up loosely around your wrist, threatening to reveal the soul mark you had once desperately hidden from his sight. You hid it from him for a reason, and he would have otherwise respected your wishes if curiosity didn’t get the best of him. 

Observing your stillness, his hand timidly moved to grab hold of the fabric and pulled it up your forearm. The long sentence began to reveal itself. He angled his head to look at the words better.

tell me baby you're the happiest when you're with me right

Jisung inhaled, and his breathing stilled. He told you that. That was the first thing he has ever said to you. It was the exact line. 

He’s the one. He is your soulmate.

He is yours.

Your eyes were opened when Jisung turned to look at your face. You had been awake ever since you felt the gentle touch on your cheek, but you were too late to have stopped him from reading your mark.

You trembled, expecting Jisung to show you anger or at least something akin to frustration. But he only held your gaze under the soft light. 

"I'm your soulmate,” he whispered.

You nodded, and your voice was equally quiet. “Yeah.”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I didn’t think you’d love me.”

Jisung sighed heartbrokenly. How could you still think after all the conversations you’ve had? 

Wordlessly, he got onto his knees and leaned over so his face could get close to yours. Your eyes were getting hazy at the proximity, and you couldn’t do anything but wait for him. He took the initiative, mostly because he felt like if he didn’t take the chance to kiss you right now, he would regret it later.

You closed your eyes as soon as you felt the soft surface of his lips touch yours. The next few seconds as Jisung pressed himself up against you were pure ecstasy, the blossomed longing in his chest withering into fallen petals before the breeze blew them toward you.

Your hands found their way to his neck, pulling him down as you sunk against the pillow. The background had dissolved into a shade of white. It was only the two of you, sharing an intimate moment on the couch with the dim moonlight shining at the end of your legs as if it was shyly glancing away from Jisung’s wandering hands and your delighted expression.

Jisung was short of breath when his hands went from your hips to your hair. He hadn’t even recognized it until he found himself laying his entire weight down on your body in exhaustion, feeling your heart beat in line with his.

He wouldn’t have known. Your lips were like oxygen, and he couldn’t tell if he was breathing when he kissed you. He gently angled his face to take your bottom lip, pressing tight for a long moment before pulling away, resisting the temptation to dive in again when he saw your eyes.

You two didn’t speak. There wasn’t a need to say any words. Your actions had conveyed pretty much everything you needed to know about him and him about you.

Refusing to leave, Jisung laid his head on your shoulder, the warmth of your body giving him complete solace. He found himself never wanting to leave this position.

He had known all along the feeling he held for you. He wouldn’t have debated his feelings for you and how they conflicted with his future soulmate if he didn’t know. It took a slight push for him to finally bring it to light. 

Jisung smiled a little at the thought of having a sacred bond between you and him, and he would be eternally amazed at how miraculous it was. 

Despite not knowing the truth, the link had brought you two together anyway. It pulled him towards you and made him feel things he had never felt. He didn’t need to know his soulmate to love them; he had been right before. He couldn’t imagine never being in love with you.

You woke up earlier than everyone else and slowly slipped out of the couch, leaving Jisung sound asleep. You moved quick, getting ready in the bathroom and sneaking back to the living room to pack your things and leave with a small note stuck to the tea table.

But Jisung was a step ahead of you, his eyes big and round as he greeted you from the couch, his lips pursing into an excited grin. 

You melted, offering him a faint smile. “Hey, Jisung. I’m going to head back home, so I’ll see you in school, okay?”

Jisung sat up with a pout. “Why? Did your mom call?”

“Uh, sure,” you replied.

“Oh,” he nodded as he exited the couch, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said. 

“It’s Saturday. We can hang out!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head. “And, you know, I can meet your mom.” 

“What? That’s so–“ you laughed as you aggressively zipped your bag. “You’re funny!”

He squinted his eyes. He thought he was hallucinating because he was groggy, but there was something off about you. When you threw your bag over your shoulder, he reached out to hold your hand and pulled you back.

“Hold on, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You’re off.”

“Off to go home! Yes, I am!” 

“[Name].”

“Okay, fine.” You sighed. “It’s nothing. I’ve always been like this. You’re you, and I’m me.”

You wouldn’t look at him in the eyes. Judging by your impulsive actions and the lack of bashfulness, he knew this was about what happened yesterday night. 

“You’re pushing me away,” he said, his voice sounding like alarm bells. “You’re freaked out.”

“Jisung, I'm not pushing you away," you muttered. “We're still friends.”

“You kissed me back,” he pointed out in disbelief. “Your arms were around my neck. I was on top of you. We made out.”

You gulped at the thought of that. It had been going on rewind in your head the whole morning. Even now, as you looked at Jisung, you felt your gaze gravitating towards his lips.

“I’m not ready, Jisung,” you whispered. “I can’t do it now.”

“Okay.” He nodded, his voice much softer. “But it meant something. It meant something to you?”

"Yeah, I guess," you muttered. "But you–"

“You are very worried about me.”

"You don't love me, Jisung," you whispered. “You love me because we're soulmates.”

That wasn’t true, but telling you that wouldn’t suddenly change your point of view. Otherwise, Jisung wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to convince you that he was wholeheartedly in love with you.

You licked your lip and pulled away from him. “I'll see you at school,”

The softness of your voice pierced a hole in his heart, but he told himself to be patient. The time will come when he knows what to say, which will surely make you change your mind and believe that someone could love you.

When he finally crossed through your barrier, and you finally let him all the way in, he could never let you go again.

Things have changed. You two continued to hang out after school, having dinner in a different restaurant every day and chatting away as you would. But occasionally, a moment of dreadful silence would send the back of your hair raising.

You hated it as much as you hated the prom proposal you were witnessing.

Standing at the corner of the cafeteria where the entrance doors were, your deadpan eyes watched as everyone stopped to watch the public proposal unfold. No one questioned when Jisung stepped up on the table with empty hands as if they had expected this to happen at some point.

There were no banners, flowers, speakers, or microphones. It was him and his voice alone. You were certain half of your annoyance came from seeing his bare minimum. 

Jiae playfully shoved her friends as they pushed her forward, making her stand close to the table. She looked up at Jisung expectantly, and Jisung looked unfocused and nervous. It took a harsh shove from his Seungmin and a sharp glare thrown toward you for him to snap out of his trance.

Jisung crouched suddenly, facing Seungmin, who rolled his eyes in return.

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, a grimace on his face. ”Is it necessary? They probably hate public proposals like this.”

“Listen, they are standing all the way over by the doors. Either way, you're going to have to yell for them to hear you," Seungmin pointed out, nudging his head toward the direction you were in.

“So none of us care that Jiae stepped up alone?” Hyunjin asked shakily as he pushed himself closer to Seungmin, occasionally peeking behind Jisung’s shoulder.

Seungmin raised a fist and put it down when Jisung habitually leaned away. He stepped up, leaning over to speak in Jisung's ear. 

“If you want things to return to the way they were, you have to try,” he said, then shrugged. “Either you ask them to prom, or I will.”

"Or I will!” Felix chimed in, “We’ve become pretty good friends. They will go to a friendly prom with me!”

Jisung exhaled deeply. Seungmin was right. He has to properly announce his feelings for both of your sake. You needed to hear from him that he loves you, all business and no jokes.

“Yeah.” He looked off to the side and nodded. “You guys are insufferable. I love you both.”

Seungmin flinched and shook the words off his chest while Hyunjin grinned and sent Jisung flying kisses as he stood up to be in the spotlight. 

“[Name],” Jisung started, his voice echoing throughout the room. He looked over to the side, to where you were standing. When you flashed him a reluctant smile of encouragement, his heart clenched. He didn’t look away as he spoke. “Will you go to prom with me?”

You gasped along with the rest of the students, your eyes widening in shock. His proposal prompted everyone else to stare at you. It was embarrassing. You could only curse, duck your head, and spin to leave the cafeteria.

The crowd hollered in disappointment and hilarity at your reaction. Jisung panicked and jumped off the table, tipping over and barely catching himself when he landed on the ground. He shifted past a sea of people laughing at his face and welcomed the fresh air outside the cafeteria. He ran, turning corners and racing down hallways before he caught up to you.

You could hear the door to your empty classroom burst open harshly and rapid footsteps following behind. You spun around, glaring at him with a heavy frown. It was still baffling that he would do something outrageous, knowing how much you hated the attention. Still, you were more mad at him for the indirect confession than the crowd.

“What was that? We had a plan!"

“No, you had a plan, and I had a plan of my own,” Jisung said, marching up to you. He halted to a stop when he was of considerable distance, and he took a dramatic breath. 

This was the moment for him to change everything. This has to work.

“I love you. I really do. I don’t know how else I can express that besides being straightforward. Just because you don’t believe me or don’t want to believe me does not make my feelings any less true. I can’t read your mind, I don’t know how you feel, but I know that you’re denying my feelings because you don’t think you’re good enough for me, which isn’t a call for you to make. I choose what is best for me

“And fine, maybe I wouldn't have loved you if we weren't soulmates. But you are my soulmate, and I do love you now. Actually, if anything, your lack of trust in me is invalidating and demeaning. It upsets me! You upset me!”

His voice sounded as if he had bottled up many emotions inside. He wasn’t sticking to the script his friends made for him anymore. He was going to pour his heart out to you, and his heart told him he was pretty angry.

You blinked at the increasing grit in his voice. It felt familiar. He called you out once like this; that was the beginning of your friendship. You let your guard down back then because you liked him, and no matter how much you tried to cover your eyes, you could see it was the best decision you’ve made. 

“This is your master plan?” you muttered. “To yell at me?”

“What, no. I’m not yelling at you. I don’t want to yell at you.” His eyes rounded as he waved his hands in disagreement. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

His pleading eyes made you scoff, but there was laughter in them like you couldn’t stand him in the most endearing way possible. 

His shoulders shuddered when you reached for his hands and carefully closed the gap between your feet. 

“This is a chance,” you said. “I’m still not entirely ready for this.”

It took him a moment. When he realized you mailed him an acceptance letter, he squeezed your hands and nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, relief flushing over your chest upon his familiarity, like closing the last page of a long book. You’ve missed his stillness and his presence overall. You’re glad you got to have him back so quickly.

"I'm not going to prom," you said.

"It's okay,” he said. “We can stay home. We can turn on fairy lights and be cliché together."

“As if falling in love with your soulmate isn’t cliché enough,” you snorted with a slight eye roll while Jisung scrunched his nose at how casually you talked about you both.

“Speaking of soulmates,” he said. “You haven't given me an answer yet.”

You tilted your head. “To what?”

Jisung pulled at your sleeve to reveal your soul mark before he turned to look at you, a smirk on his face. "Tell me, baby. You’re the happiest when you're with me, right?”

“Goodbye.” You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove before spinning on your heels and walking away.

Jisung giggled, catching up to you again and again. Judging by how you smiled as he interlocked your hands, the answer was crystal clear without needing words.

You were both very sure that you were happiest when you were with Han Jisung.

[berryispunk]

Everything But Us

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: we suffer first we love later, idiots in love, friends to lovers, dual POV, slow burn (but boy! worth it), once again talking is difficult, the boys have an appearance, best friend! Frankie, soft! Frankie, longing, mutual pining, ANGST, love confessions, tiny mention of past addiction,  emotional turmoil, SMUT (🌶️🌶️🌶️), kissing, swearing, wrap it up in real life please, no further physical description of reader apart from wearing a dress and having hair

summary: You danced around your feelings for each other, always toeing the line but never daring to cross it—until one fateful night in October, when hesitation gave way to something undeniable, changing everything forever.

notes: Did I write this in one manic sitting today? Absolutely. Any mistakes you find are mine. Happy Frankie Friday !

word count: 7,3 k

also readable on ao3

How was he supposed to tell you that his whole world revolved around you? That one night back in October had changed everything for him. You were both drunk, out of your minds, laughing afterward.

“Sorry,” you hiccuped, your fingers tracing the one patch on his cheek where his beard never fully grew. You looked at it like it was something special, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. Painfully unaware of how even the simplest touch from you set his skin on fire. Your fingers trailed along his jaw, up to his ear, and finally tangled in the tousled locks peeking out from under his cap—the one he was hardly ever without. Your eyes were glazed, unfocused from too many tequila shots. You were absolutely adorable when you were tipsy. Carefree. Relaxed. And, by God, it made him want you even more.

His head fell back against the taxi seat, eyes closing as he prayed to whatever cosmic force was listening that you were too drunk to notice how hard it was for him to hold back. But you were right there, purring next to his ear, your head resting against the seat beside him.

“You’re always so damn sweet, Frankie,” you murmured. “So attentive and kind. Why the hell are you still single?”

The words hit him where it hurt the most— his heart. Up until tonight, he had kept his respectful distance. Admiring you from afar, letting himself be what you allowed him to be: a friend. He even picked you up from all the failed dates, letting you ramble about whatever loser you thought was worthy of your time. He held you when you cried over another broken heart, never once overstepping, even when he wanted to. Even when your head rested on his shoulder, your breathing finally even after a sob-filled night, and he turned his head just slightly—just enough that he could have kissed your forehead. When, in reality, he wanted to kiss your lips. His hand would draw soothing circles up and down your arm, steadying you, grounding you. He stayed longer than necessary, making sure you were okay before he left. Placing water and painkillers on your nightstand because he knew you’d need them in the morning. And you did.

“You’re my lifesaver, Morales🩷”

That was the text you sent the next day, and he had smiled like an idiot at his phone before reality came crashing back. Because even if you meant it, it never meant the same thing to you.

Then came tonight.

The two of you had split off from the rest of your friends, waiting for a taxi on the curb. And out of nowhere, you stepped closer. Wrapped your arms around his neck. Played with the hair at the nape of it like you belonged there.

“You’re so damn cute, you know that?” His cheeks burned instantly.

“You’re drunk and out of your mind, hermosa,” he said, his hands settling at your waist. The warmth of your skin seeped through the thin fabric of your dress—one that you probably shouldn’t have been wearing in the October chill, but you had insisted ‘dress season was all year long’. And, damn, were you right. The way you paired it with tights and Doc Martens was a sight he knew would haunt his dreams. His thumbs traced slow circles over your hips as he held you, watching you carefully, preparing for whatever you’d throw at him next. With you, it could be anything—an insult or the sweetest compliment. There was no in-between when you were like this.

And then something shifted. You looked at him for a fraction too long. Your eyes flickered to his lips before finding his gaze again. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, and his grip tightened instinctively. You made this so damn hard for him.

“You cold?” he asked, desperate to break the tension simmering between you.

You shook your head, smirking. “I have my own personal heater. I’m fine.”

Then you closed the distance completely, pressing yourself against him. Softness against hardness, in all the right and wrong places, and his head spun. The alcohol in his system didn’t help. He hugged you back, letting your body heat mingle with his. Letting himself close his eyes and pretend—for just a moment—that this was real.

And now, here you were, in the taxi. So close. Too close. Something in him snapped.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch with a small, tired smile, and his stomach twisted painfully. Such a simple gesture, yet so intimate it stole the air from his lungs. He leaned in, just a little, close enough to share the same breath, still giving you space to pull away. But you didn’t. You trusted him. And he would never take advantage of that, so he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to pull back with the last restraint left. But before he could, you reached for him. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, and then your lips crashed onto his. It was electrifying. Addictive.

For a split second, he thought he was dreaming. But then your hand tugged at his hair, and he knew he wasn’t. This was real. And it was better than he had ever imagined. He melted into the kiss, letting you take the lead. Too afraid that if he kissed you the way he wanted to, he might ruin everything. Might scare you off. Your lips were soft but purposeful, tasting like tequila and the faintest trace of strawberry—the lip gloss you had put on before leaving the bar. You tasted like a promise of something he had never dared to dream about.

And then—just as suddenly as it had started—it ended. Your forehead rested against his, your breath slightly shallow. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, something new flickered in your gaze. A depth that wasn’t there before. Then it was gone.

“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously, picking up on the way your expression had shifted. His stomach clenched with dread. Your face paled. Next thing he knew, you were throwing open the window and vomiting onto the street. His eyes widened in horror.

Had he kissed that badly?

Panic surged through him as he scooted closer, rubbing a hand over your back, shouting to the driver to pull over. This was not how he had imagined this moment going. Not at all.

The taxi came to a screeching halt at the curb, and Frankie barely had time to reach into his wallet to pay before he was helping you out of the car. You groaned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “God, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, swaying slightly on your feet.

He steadied you with a firm hand on your waist. “Nothing to apologize for, hermosa,” he said softly. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead briefly to his shoulder like you were gathering the strength to move. Then, with a deep breath, you straightened and started walking. Your place wasn’t far, just a few blocks, but it felt longer with the way you stumbled every few steps. Frankie kept his arm wrapped securely around you, guiding you through the quiet streets. The cool night air bit at his skin, but it did little to cool the heat still lingering in his blood from the kiss.

That damn kiss.

He kept replaying it in his head, trying to convince himself it hadn’t meant anything. That it had been nothing more than a drunken mistake. But the way your lips had moved against his, the way your fingers had tangled in his hair—it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like everything.

By the time they reached your apartment, you were half-asleep against him. He fished your keys from your purse and guided you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, leading you down the hallway to your room.

You collapsed onto the mattress with a content sigh, stretching out like a cat before rolling onto your side to look at him. He bent down, pulling your boots off and setting them neatly beside the bed. Then he reached for the blanket, ready to tuck you in and leave before he did something stupid. But then you spoke.

“Frankie?”

His movements stilled. “Yeah?”

Your voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “Did you ever think about sleeping with me?”

His throat went dry. You were looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, your expression unreadable. And suddenly, the air in the room felt suffocating. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to tell the truth. To admit that he had thought about it more times than he could count. That he had dreamed about you, fantasized about what it would be like to have you beneath him, to feel your nails digging into his skin, to hear his name fall from your lips like it was the only thing that mattered. But he couldn’t tell you that. Because you were drunk. And he was supposed to be your friend.

So he forced a chuckle, shaking his head. “No,” he lied, the word tasting like poison on his tongue. “Never crossed my mind.”

Something flickered in your expression—something like disappointment—but it was gone before he could be sure. You hummed softly, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling.

“Liar,” you murmured, but there was no bite to it. Just quiet acceptance.

Frankie swallowed hard.

“Get some sleep,” he said, pulling the blanket over you and stepping back before he did something reckless. He turned off the light, lingering in the doorway for just a second longer than he should have. And then he left. Because if he stayed any longer, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep lying.

Winter had come and gone, and with it, any mention of that night in October. You never brought it up. And Frankie never dared to. Not the kiss. Not the question you had asked him in the dim light of your bedroom. Not the way your voice had curled around the word liar like you already knew the truth. So he buried it. Shoved it deep into the same corner of his mind where he kept every other impossible feeling he had for you.

Now, the air smelled like spring—fresh rain on warm pavement, flowers blooming.The chill had faded, replaced with sun-kissed skin and longer days. And with it, you were glowing too. Frankie was trying not to notice, but it was to no avail. You sat across from him at the bar, wedged between two of your friends, laughing as you stirred your drink with a cocktail straw. You were in another one of those damn sundresses, bare legs crossed as you leaned forward excitedly.

“She’s talking about him again,” Benny muttered under his breath, taking a swig of his beer. Frankie clenched his jaw. He knew exactly who him was. Some guy you had met at a coffee shop a few weeks ago. Apparently, he’d bumped into you in line, spilled a bit of his overpriced espresso on your sleeve, and instead of being pissed, you had laughed about it. Frankie hated him instantly.

“He’s just—ugh, I don’t know,” you gushed, shaking your head with a dreamy sigh. “There’s something about him.” Frankie rolled his beer bottle between his palms, staring at the table instead of you. Something about him.

Frankie had been something about you for years.

“I mean, it’s still early, obviously,” you continued, oblivious to the way his grip tightened around his drink. “But I don’t know, it just feels easy. Like we just clicked.” He forced a smirk, lifting his bottle to his lips. “Sounds perfect.” Drowning all the bad feelings bubbling up in alcohol. If you picked up on the flatness in his tone, you didn’t say anything. You just shrugged, swirling the ice in your glass before taking another sip. “It’s nice to be excited about someone, you know?”

Frankie hummed in response, taking another long sip of his beer and glancing down at the nearly empty bottle, as if the answers to all his unasked questions were waiting at the bottom. Excited, right.

Of course, he wanted you to be happy. That’s what he told himself every time you brought up some new guy, every time you smiled at a text that wasn’t from him, every time you looked across the bar for someone else. But tonight, something about the way you were talking about this one was different. Frankie could feel it, tightening in his chest like a warning.

And he knew, deep down, that if he kept lying to himself, if he kept pretending he was fine watching you fall for someone else—

One day, he might actually believe it.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Frankie had always been the quieter one in your group, measured and steady. A man of few words but with an unwavering presence. But lately, something had shifted. It was in the way he reacted when you talked about the guy you were seeing. The way his usual teasing remarks had dulled, his responses clipped and distant. The way he smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes anymore. You noticed, of course you did. But you didn’t ask. Maybe because you weren't sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Because if you look too closely, you might have to admit what had always been there—what you had spent years trying to ignore. Frankie had never just been a friend to you. Not really. There had been a time, long before that night in October, when you had wondered. Let your mind drift to the thought of what it would be like to be his.

To be the reason behind his softest smiles, the one he reached for without hesitation.

You had wanted that once. Wanted him, but you buried it. Swallowed it down and forced yourself to forget. Because Frankie was good. Too good. The kind of man who stayed. The kind of man who meant what he said and never made promises he couldn’t keep. And you, you were a wreck. A walking contradiction of bad choices and broken hearts. You loved too easily. Trusted too quickly. And time and time again, it left you standing in the ruins of something you should have never believed in to begin with. You couldn’t do that to him.

So you convinced yourself that friendship was enough. That it had to be enough. Because losing him? That was the one thing you knew you wouldn’t survive. But then came the kiss.

And now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bury it. Couldn’t forget the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he let you kiss him but didn’t pull you closer, didn’t give in the way you thought he would. Like he had wanted to but also didn’t. Like he had been holding back. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That it was nothing. That it was just the alcohol, just the moment, just a mistake. And for a while, you almost believed it.

Then you met him, Luke. Someone new. Someone who checked every box, said all the right things, wanted you without hesitation. It should have been easy, you should have felt relieved, happy even.

But every time you looked at Frankie, you could feel it—the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you. The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. The way he laughed at all the right times but never really looked at you the way he used to. You told yourself you were imagining it,that you were reading into things that weren’t there. But late at night, when you were lying next to Luke, it wasn’t him you thought about.

It was Frankie. And no matter how much you tried to deny it—that changed everything.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived at Will’s house, your fingers laced with your boyfriend’s as you stepped inside. The air was thick with the smell of beer, grilled food, and whatever cologne Benny, Will’s brother, had drowned himself in. Laughter and music spilled from the open back doors where most of your friends had gathered, voices overlapping, drinks in hand, the kind of effortless camaraderie that had always made you feel at home.

But something felt off tonight. Or maybe it was just you.

Because for the first time in years, Frankie wasn’t there to greet you with that familiar, easy smile. He wasn’t hovering nearby, teasing you about being late or making sure you had a drink in hand. No, Frankie was across the room, deep in conversation with Will and Santi, nursing a beer like it was the only thing anchoring him in place. And he hadn’t looked at you once, even though you were sure he knew you had arrived—if not by seeing you, then by Benny’s over-the-top greeting 

You tried not to notice, tried to focus on introducing your boyfriend to everyone, on smiling and laughing in all the right places. But no matter where you were, some part of you was always aware of him, lingering just at the edge of your orbit. How he kept his distance, how he barely spoke to you. How, for the first time since you’d met him, it felt like he was avoiding you. And the worst part? It hurt. You weren’t supposed to care this much. You had a boyfriend now. A good guy. A guy who wanted you, who didn’t hesitate, who didn’t hold back. 

Then why did it feel like something was slipping through your fingers? Like you were losing Frankie—losing something you never dared to name, but had always felt, just beneath the surface? 

It wasn’t until later, when the party had thinned out and the night had settled into something softer, that you finally found him alone. Outside and smoking, something you always did together. But tonight, he hadn’t waited for you. didn’t even ask. Tonight, it was just him, leaning against the railing of Will’s back porch, staring out at nothing, cigarette glowing between his fingers. And for the first time in weeks, you asked the question that had been gnawing at you since this whole thing started.

“What’s going on with you?”

Frankie didn’t look at you right away. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke into the cool night air before finally shifting his gaze toward you. His eyes, usually so warm, were unreadable.

"Nothing," he said, voice low and gruff. You frowned, stepping closer. "Bullshit." That almost got a reaction—almost. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smirk, but it never quite made it there. Instead, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, shaking his head. "You should get back inside," he muttered. "Your boyfriend’s probably looking for you." The words landed like a slap. Of course he was right, but throwing this at you in this moment felt purposefully hurtful.  Your arms crossed over your chest, not from the cold but from the sudden, unfamiliar distance between you. "What the hell is your problem?"

Frankie let out a slow breath, shaking his head again, but this time, it wasn’t dismissive. It was like he was trying to hold something back, something threatening to spill over.

"You’ve been acting weird all night," you pressed, stepping even closer. "Hell, for weeks now. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you, Frankie. I know when something’s wrong." His jaw tensed, and for a second, you thought he might actually tell you. That maybe, finally, he’d say whatever had been weighing on him. But then he just chuckled, low and humorless. "Nothing’s wrong, hermosa. I’m fine."

You know he was lying. You could see it, the way his shoulders stayed tight, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes for too long. And suddenly, the space between you felt impossible to conquer. 

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "You don’t get to do this."

Frankie quirked an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Shut me out," you snapped. "Act like I don’t exist all night and then pretend like I’m the one imagining things." His lips pressed into a thin line, his grip tightening around the cigarette between his fingers. "You have a boyfriend now," he said after a beat, voice quieter. "Things are just… different."

The words stung in a way you didn’t expect.

"Different?" You repeated, barely above a whisper. "You made them different, Frankie. Not me." For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint music drifting from inside, laughter from the party carrying on without you. 

And then, softer, almost hesitant, you asked, "Did I do something?" Your brows furrowed, the hurt evident in your voice, written all over your face. His eyes snapped to yours at that, something unreadable flashing through them. "No," he said quickly—almost too quickly. "You didn’t do anything."

Then why did it feel like you had? Why did it feel like something had changed between you, like a line had been drawn and you hadn’t even realized you crossed it?

Frankie sighed, running a hand over his face before stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. "You should go back inside."

But before you could respond, the door creaked open behind you. A rush of warm air, laughter, and music spilled onto the porch. You turned just in time to see Luke stepping outside, his gaze flickering between you and Frankie. His expression didn’t change much, no obvious anger, no accusation, but something in his eyes told you he’d seen enough. Enough to notice the way you stood too close. Enough to feel the tension crackling between you and Frankie like a live wire.

"Hey," he said, his voice even, unreadable. "Everything okay out here?" You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yeah. Just getting some air."

Frankie had already taken a step back. He nodded once at Luke, then flicked his cigarette into the yard, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I was just heading inside." And just like that, the moment was gone. You watched as Frankie disappeared through the door, slipping seamlessly back into the party, into the noise, into the version of himself that had nothing to hide. But you knew better now. Because whatever this was, whatever had been simmering between you for longer than you wanted to admit, wasn't one-sided. And now, someone else had seen it too.

As you sat in Luke’s car later, the air was thick with something unspoken. The only sound was the hum of the engine, not even music to fill the silence. You felt his eyes flicker toward you more than once, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle. You pretended not to notice, kept your gaze fixed outside, watching the city lights blur past. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope—beautiful, distorted, and just a little unreal.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Is there something going on with you and Frankie?” Your breath caught. It was the question you had been waiting for, the one you had feared. You turned your head, but he kept his eyes on the road, fingers tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. 

“Luke—”

“Just tell me the truth,” he interrupted, his voice steady, but laced with something raw underneath. “I’m not stupid. I saw the way he looked at you tonight. And the way you looked at him.”

Your stomach twisted. You could lie, smooth it over, tell him he was imagining things, that Frankie was just a friend. But the weight in your chest was suffocating, and you were so damn tired of pretending.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Luke exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “You don’t know.”

“I—” Your voice cracked. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He finally looked at you then, and it was worse than if he had been angry. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes told you everything—he already knew. He had known for longer than he let on. Maybe he could even feel it, that you were never quite there, even though he treated you the way you had always wanted to be treated. And you hated it. Hated yourself for feeling this way, for not being able to be happy with what was right in front of you.

“So you love him.” Not a question—a statement. It crashed down on you, effortless and undeniable, giving a name to the feeling you had denied yourself for so long before you were even ready to do it yourself. Tears burned in your eyes as you shook your head, grasping for words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I don’t.. I-It’s not that simple.”

“But it is, isn’t it?” His voice was quiet, but the weight of it settled deep in your bones.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I wanted this to work, Luke. I really did.” A heavy silence stretched between you. Neither of you had anything left to say. Slowly, he pulled the car over to the curb in front of your apartment. The click of the gear shift the only sound between you. You didn’t ask why. You already knew. With shaking hands, you unclipped your seatbelt, wiping at your cheeks as you reached for the door handle. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered one last time but Luke didn’t respond.

And as you stepped out into the cold night air, you knew this was the end of this chapter and the beginning of a new one you weren’t quite sure you were ready for.

Frankie was barely holding it together. Every day felt like a fight against something clawing at his chest, something desperate and ugly that whispered you lost her, you fucking lost her. He tried to drown it out by keeping  himself busy, working longer hours and spending more nights drinking just to feel something other than the ache. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was.

And then, one night, the thought crept in—familiar, insidious. Just one line. Just to take the edge off. He hadn’t really thought about it in years, hadn’t let himself even consider it, but tonight, with his hands shaking and his heart racing like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, it was right there. Too easy. The voice getting louder by the second. 

He might’ve done it, too. Might’ve given in if Santi hadn’t knocked on his door like he knew. Like he always knew. Frankie barely got the door open before Santi was pushing inside, eyes sharp, taking one look at him and shaking his head. “Jesus, Fish,” he muttered, slamming the door behind him. “You look like shit.”

Frankie let out a humorless laugh, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, fingers digging into the tense muscles. “Yeah, well. Feels about right.” Santi didn’t push, didn’t pry, just walked to the kitchen, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and tossed one his way. “Sit your ass down,” he ordered, voice softer than his words hit. “And start talking.”

And somehow, for the first time in weeks, Frankie did.

He let out a shaky breath, fingers still rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the beer in his hand. He hadn’t meant to say anything. Hadn’t meant to let it slip. But once he started talking, it all came out—how he thought he was doing the right thing, how he tried to be happy for you, tried to step back and let you have what you deserved.

How it was fucking killing him.

He told Santi about the party, about the way you looked at him like you knew something had changed but couldn’t figure out what. How he avoided you because being close to you and not having you felt worse than anything he’d ever gone through. Worse than any withdrawal, any loss, any mistake he’d ever made. And then Santi said it. Just threw it out there like it wasn’t about to flip Frankie’s entire world upside down.

“You know she broke up with him, right?”

Frankie’s head snapped up so fast it almost hurt. “What?”

Santi sighed, giving him a look like he couldn’t believe he had to be the one spelling this out. “Luke. She ended it.” He took a sip of his beer, eyes flicking to Frankie’s. “She didn’t tell you?”

Frankie could only shake his head, something tight and desperate clawing its way up his throat. Because suddenly, all those nights of shoving his feelings down, of convincing himself that you were happy, that you were better off didn’t mean anything. Because if it wasn’t Luke anymore, if you chose to leave, then maybe… maybe it wasn’t just him feeling like something between you was never really gone.

But still, he hesitated, because doubt was a stubborn thing.  He spent so long convincing himself that he wasn’t what you wanted, what you deserved.  “That doesn’t mean—”

“Fish.” Santi’s voice cut through his thoughts, steady and sure. “You love her. She sure as hell loves you. And if you don’t do something about it now, you’re gonna spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

Frankie swallowed hard, the small flicker of hope battling against the fear still weighing heavy on his chest.

Maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late.

It happened after weeks of avoiding each other. After Luke, after everything, you pulled away, trying to get space, trying to breathe. But Frankie noticed. Of course, he noticed. He always did.

So when he showed up at your apartment in the middle of the night, you weren’t even surprised. You hesitated before opening the door, but when you did, the sight of him nearly took the air from your lungs. He looked like hell. Dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, like he had been running his hands through it in frustration for hours. His jacket hung loose off his shoulders, and there was something wrecked about him—something that made your stomach twist.

"You gonna let me in?" His voice was rough, just a quiet rumble in the stillness of the night.

You should have said no. Should have told him this wasn’t a good idea. But instead, you stepped aside.

He walked in like he didn’t even know what to do with himself, pacing a little before finally stopping in the middle of your living room, hands on his hips. The air was thick, suffocating, before he exhaled sharply and turned to face you.

"Are you leaving me too?"

The words hit like a punch to the ribs.

"Frankie–"

"Because I feel like I’m chasing something that doesn’t even want to be caught," he cut in, his voice tight. "Like I’m standing here, waiting for you to just—just fucking look at me, and you won’t." His jaw clenched. "And I don’t know if it’s because you don’t want to, or because you’re too damn scared to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself, like that would somehow hold you together. "I just… I needed time. To think."

Frankie scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. "Right. And did you figure it out?"

You hated the bitterness in his voice. Hated that you put it there.

"I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Frankie took a step closer, and just like that, the air shifted.

"Then tell me what you want." Your throat tightened. "I can’t."

"Why not?" He was closer now, his voice raw, edged with something desperate. "Because if you say it, it becomes real?"

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Frankie exhaled sharply, shaking his head, stepping back like he needed the distance, like if he stayed too close, he’d do something neither of you could take back. "You know, it’s funny," he said, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "I spent so fucking long convincing myself that I didn’t have a chance. That you’d never see me like that." His jaw tensed. "And then you kissed me. And for one second—for one fucking second—I let myself think I was wrong."

Your breath caught again. "Frankie—"

"But I wasn’t, was I?" His voice was quiet, the hurt in it deafening. "You didn’t want me. You never did."

That broke something in you and you snapped.

"I never let myself want you!" The moment the words were out in the open, you couldn’t take them back.

Frankie froze.

Your hands were shaking, but you pushed forward, because if you stopped now, you’d never say it. "You were safe. You were the one person I could always count on. And I knew if I let myself want more, I’d ruin it, like I ruined everything else. Because that’s just what I’m good at. Being a mess." Your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop. "So I buried it. Every time I looked at you and felt—" You sucked in a breath, blinking back tears. "I convinced myself that friendship was enough. That it had to be enough."

Frankie’s breathing was uneven now, his dark eyes locked onto yours, searching, waiting.

"And now?" he asked, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because you didn’t know how to say it. But then Frankie moved. Closed the space between you in two long strides, until he was so close you could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint mix of cologne and a cigarette he probably had before he came here.

"Tell me to leave," he murmured, his voice low and unsteady. "If you don’t want this—if you don’t want me—tell me to leave."

Your heart pounded so hard it was unignorable. You didn’t answer, you didn’t need to. The way he looked at you, his beautiful brown eyes you had grown to admire so much, looked right through you. Into your soul, seeing what you didn’t even have the words for. Because you didn’t want him to leave. Not now. Not ever. In fact, for the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be—with him. His hand lifted, hesitated—then cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone like he was memorizing the feel of you. In the quiet of your apartment, the energy altered. Heavy. Electric. Inevitable.

His head dipped, and then his lips crashed onto yours with such force it stole the breath from your lungs, made you stumble back a step. Your hands found his face, holding him close as you melted into the kiss. But this time, it was different. He didn’t hold back like he had all those months ago. His fingers dug into your waist as he coaxed your mouth open, his tongue sliding against yours, deep and consuming. He walked you back with purpose, step after step, until your back met the hallway wall with a soft thud. The impact knocked over a few picture frames from the drawer beside you, but neither of you noticed. Because right then, there was only this. Only him.

The moment your back hit the wall, Frankie was on you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, fisting your shirt like he wanted to tear it off but couldn’t decide if he should. His mouth was hot, insistent, his tongue pushing past your lips as he pressed his body against yours, a low groan rumbling from his chest, deep and dangerous in its intensity.

You whimpered into the kiss, fingers threading through his curls, tugging just enough to make him hiss. It only spurred him on. His hands moved lower, gripping your thighs, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him to you as he carried you down the hallway, lips never leaving yours, knocking into the walls like neither of you could think straight enough to care. But when he reached your bedroom, he paused.

Breathing hard, he set you down gently, hands still gripping your hips as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?” His voice was hoarse, uneven. “Tell me now if you’re not, because I swear, I won’t—”

You cut him off, brushing your lips against his, softer this time, your fingers tracing along his jaw. “I’m sure, Frankie.”

His eyes searched yours, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Like he didn’t trust that this wasn’t some cruel trick his mind was playing on him.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over the furrow between his brows. “I want this. I want you.”

Something in him unraveled at your words, tension melting from his shoulders. He exhaled sharply, nodding once before his lips crashed onto yours again, this time with more certainty, more purpose. You gasped when he finally dropped you onto your bed, following you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His hands pushed beneath your shirt, sliding up your stomach, your ribs, your breasts—palming you, squeezing just enough to make your back arch. He cursed under his breath, yanking the fabric over your head, barely giving you time to breathe before his mouth was on you again, kissing, biting, sucking a path down your throat.

“F-Frankie,” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as he sucked a bruise into your collarbone. His hands made quick work of your clothes, tugging them off as he peppered kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, down your stomach. Every touch, every glance was heavy with something deeper, something unspoken. He took his time, learning every inch of you with his lips, his tongue, his hands, until you were trembling beneath him, breathless and aching.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your skin, his breath hot. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you cupped his face, pulling him back up to you, crashing your lips into his.

You barely registered him kicking off his own jeans before his hands were on your thighs, spreading you open, gently tracing along the soft skin of your thighs despite the deep-seated need that was mirrored in his dark pupils. His fingers finally found your heat, sliding through the wetness pooling there.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, hermosa.”

You whimpered in response, hips bucking into his touch. “Frankie, please—”

That was all it took. He groaned, deep and low, as he pushed into you, sinking in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you completely. It was almost too much and at the same time not enough. His jaw clenched, his grip on your hips tightening like he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breath ragged. “You feel—” He shook his head, like he couldn’t even find the words.

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Move, Frankie. Please.”

And then it was desperate. Frankie thrust into you, slow at first, deep and deliberate, watching your face for any sign of hesitation. But when all he saw was pleasure, when all he heard was the way you gasped his name like it was the only thing keeping you tethered, his restraint snapped.

He picked up the pace, fucking you harder now, rougher, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there’d be bruises, but you didn’t care—you wanted them, needed them. A visible reminder of this finally happening.

His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, over and over, breathless, broken. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, his own expression wrecked and raw.

“Look at me,” he panted, rocking into you, the friction sending sparks through your veins. “I need—I need to see you when you come.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Your breath caught. The coil in your stomach tightened, tightened, until finally, it snapped. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Frankie groaned, his hips stuttering before he thrust deep one last time, burying himself inside you as he came with a ragged moan, his whole body trembling against yours. You felt it—the warmth of him spilling deep, the way his cock twitched inside you as he pulsed through the aftershocks. A shiver ran down your spine, the intimacy of it all-consuming, overwhelming in the best way.

His breath came hot and uneven against your neck as he pressed soft, lazy kisses to your skin, grounding himself in you, like he never wanted to leave. His hands, still gripping your hips moments ago, softened, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin. The only sound between you was the heavy rhythm of your breathing, the pounding of your hearts against sweat-dampened skin. Neither of you moved. He didn’t pull away. He just stayed there, forehead resting against yours, hands cradling your face as if you might disappear.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as your fingers trailed gentle patterns up and down his back. After a moment, he brushed a few damp strands of hair from your face, his eyes tired but his smile warm, almost glowing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, searching.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, still tracing lazy circles on his back. "You’re asking me that now?"

Frankie grinned, breathless, his nose brushing against yours. "Just making sure you haven’t changed your mind."

Rolling your eyes, you let your fingers glide over his shoulder. "If I had, you’d be the first to know."

His hands drifted down your sides, slow and reverent, as if still memorizing every inch of you. "Good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

Something tight in your chest loosened, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. "Yeah?"

Frankie leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his fingers playing with your hair, his expression softer than you had ever seen. "Yeah," he said, like a promise, like an unshakable truth. "Not now. Not ever."

A shaky breath escaped you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you pulled him down into another kiss—slower this time, deeper. Less desperate, but just as intense. Eventually, he sighed, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

"So, what now?"

You grinned, threading your fingers through his tousled locks. "Well, I’d say we could clean up the mess we made, but that would require moving, and I’m not sure I’m capable of that yet."

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against yours, warm and solid. "I think I broke a picture frame."

"You did."

"Guess I’ll have to replace it."

Tilting your head, you smirked. "You’re planning on sticking around long enough to redecorate?"

Frankie’s eyes darkened, filled with something you recognized now—something you were no longer afraid to name. His hands tightened around your waist, anchoring you to him. "You gonna let me?" You pretended to consider, but he saw right through you. He always had.

"I guess I can make room for you," you teased, running a fingertip over the patch in his beard, which, from up close almost looked like a heart.

Frankie smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Good. Because I wasn’t asking."

And just like that, the weight of every missed moment, every hesitation, every doubt that had once stood between you disappeared. Because this—him, you, together—was exactly where you were always meant to be.

thanks so much for reading, maybe show some love if you enjoyed it <3

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[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4

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One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

PART 3

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[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[insidekatmind]

Deal-Cho Sang-Woo

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

Cho Sang-Woo didn't feel guilty about ending the lives of most of his teammates. While Gi-Hun, his childhood friend, had shown a sense of compassion and had given up the money he had won to donate it to the families of the dead players., Sang-woo wasn't happy that he gave up the money, causing him to lose too.. The next months were filled with attempts to regain his financial stability, but he failed, as usual. That was until he received a card, the same one that had invited him to the ‘Squid Game’ a year ago.

This card was different. It was black, with golden figures unlike anything he had ever seen. Sang-Woo studied it, wondering whether it was worth reaching out to them again. His desperation pushed him to make the call. What they offered him left him in disbelief: they didn’t want him as a player, but as a guard. The message explained that he had been under secret surveillance by the organizers and that they believed he was suited to participate in the game from the other side, in the highest rank.

Sang-Woo returned to the island, now in a new role:his mask bearing the symbol of a square. Everything had changed. He had access to things he never had before. As the games began, he couldn’t help but notice Player 424:you. Sang-Woo was sure that you were destined to win these games.

It was a night like any other, and you, like everyone else, were condemned to live in constant fear and hope. The games of Squid Game had turned each day into a fight for survival. Yet, that evening something strange was happening. When they were escorting you to the bathroom, one of the guards stopped you and ordered the others to leave you alone.

You had never seen this particular guard before, but his appearance left no doubt: he was one of the highest-ranking, with the square mask indicating his position. His face was emotionless, but you knew he wasn’t there for a simple check-up.

"424," he said, his voice filtered through the mask, as the bathroom door closed behind you. "We need to talk."

His words hit you like a sudden blow. The tone was authoritative, but also curious. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. You felt vulnerable, but also trapped in the situation. You had no choice but to listen.

"You’re not like the others," he continued, his voice now harder. "I’ve been watching your behavior. Your determination. I... I can help you."

He paused for a moment, as though weighing every word he was about to say. You, unsure of what to expect, waited in silence, trying not to show your fear.

"These games aren’t just a test of survival," he finally said. "They’re a test of corruption. And I’m willing to make you win, if you accept my conditions. You just need to follow the rules. Because this time, those inside the game can also control it."

His gaze, hidden behind the mask, seemed even more threatening. You knew this proposal wasn’t free; something was about to change drastically. You had heard stories of alliances, betrayals, and deceptions, but never of someone willing to put everything on the line like this. Your life, as always, depended on a decision.

"Do you accept?" he asked, his voice low and relentless.

It was a difficult choice, but you knew this could be your only way to win. The question hung in the air, and you, aware that time was not on your side, answered in your own way, ready to find out just how far you'd go in the heart of the game.

You look at the guard in surprise. "What do you want in return?" you whisper. The guard's gaze was fixed on your face. Even though you couldn't see his expression through the mask, you could feel his satisfaction with your immediate question.

He moves closer to you, touching your lip with his thumb.“Nothing but your total loyalty.” He replied in a firm but calm voice. "Total obedience." he continues to say as he continues to play with your lip “and you give me pleasure ” he whispers possessively.

Before you has the opportunity to respond, he grabs you by the hips and pushes you against the sink. He was now standing in front and between your legs, bringing his body even closer to yours. You could feel his heat through his clothes, as his gaze remained glued onto your face.Sang-woo leans down and whispers in your ear. "You'll do what I say and I will get you out of this game. Simple enough to understand."

You nod at his words. "To be clear, what do you mean by 'that I have to give you pleasure'?" you whisper. He chuckles at your question, still having your body pinned down against the sink. "I like how your mind works right away." He starts to play with the hem of your shirt, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of your abdomen.

His voice was barely a whisper, but you could feel the heat of his breath against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine."When I say that you have to give me pleasure, I mean every type of pleasure I decide." He runs his nose across your neck, breathing you in.

He lifts his mask.Sang-woo slowly starts placing soft kisses along your jawline, moving his lips to your ear, his touch leaving a trail of hot, tingles on your skin. He takes your earlobe into his mouth, licking and biting lightly before continuing to whisper."You'll give me anything I want. Any type of pleasure I need." He says against your ear, his words both a statement and a demand.He moves backwards, giving you a little space. You could see his eyes staring at you from behind the mask. He reaches up and slowly starts to lift the mask from his face.

You're left speechless for a moment, as you see his face for the first time. He's beautiful, there is no denying it. His features are sharp, yet oddly delicate. He has soft brown eyes that are staring at you with such intensity that you feel frozen in place, his gaze pinning you down more than his body ever had.

Sang woo reaches for your chin, making you look up at him. He slowly presses his thumb against your lip, almost like he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin. "Do we have a deal then?"

He asks slowly, his voice now clearer without the mask.Sang-woo leans his face down even closer, his eyes fixed on yours. He looks almost predatory, but you can also feel a hint of excitement within his gaze.His hand was still holding your chin and he gently caresses your cheek, his touch unexpectedly tender.

“Yes,” you whisper, looking at him, taking in his face. He nods, still looking at you intently. A small sly smirk appears on his lips as he hears your agreement.

"Good," he says, his voice still a low, husky whisper.He runs his hand down your neck, his fingers trailing over your collarbone and down your chest. His touch is light but possessive, as if he was marking you as his property.Sang-woo moves even closer to you, his body pressing against yours.His hand is on your side now, slipping under your shirt and against your skin. You can feel the heat of his touch as he starts to move further up."I'm going to enjoy having you." he whispers, his voice a mix of excitement and satisfaction.His lips brush against your neck again, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

You moan softly and cling to him. He hums against your neck in response, feeling your hands holding onto him. He seems pleased with your reaction and becomes even more bold, his kisses turning into soft, gentle bites along your skin. His hand that was on your torso moves even higher, sliding over your stomach and then back down, his touch leaving a trail of tingles on your skin he explores your body.

His fingers dig into your waist, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you even closer. His body is flush against yours, the heat of his skin mixing with yours.He continues to kiss and bite along your neck and jawline, each touch leaving you even more breathless. He starts moving lower, his mouth tracing a path down from your neck to your collarbone, and then down to your chest.

He pushes your shirt up a bit as his lips find the exposed skin. He pauses to look at you, his eyes now dark with desire. He then moves back to your neck, his teeth gently biting your earlobe before he speaks."My pretty thing..." he whispers, the possessive tone clear in his voice. He pushes a leg between yours, his thigh pressing against you.

You moan again looking at him. He can see the lust in your eyes as he looks back at you, his own gaze equally intense. His leg is still pressed between yours, and he leans in to whisper in your ear again."You like this, don't you? The way I touch you, the way I claim you as mine?" He says, his voice a low, gruff purr against your skin.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat as he presses closer, his body fully against yours. His thigh presses against you even more, and he chuckles softly at your reaction."Good," he whispers, his hand sliding up to your jaw, turning your face towards his. "Because I'm going to take you completely. Every inch of you."

You moan, clinging to him even tighter. He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His hand grips your chin tightly as he kisses you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth. His body presses against you even tighter, his thigh still rubbing against you.

You moan into the kiss, moving your hips for more friction. He feels your movement, and he growls against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. Sang-woo moves his hand down towards your hip, gripping you possessively and guiding your movements. He wants you desperate and needy against him.

His kiss becomes rougher, his tongue teasing yours, as he pushes you more firmly against the sink. With every movement of your hips, he increases the pressure between your legs, his own arousal growing. He breaks the kiss, panting against your mouth."You're mine," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "All mine."

"Yours, all yours" you murmur near his lips and then kiss him again. He kisses you back hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand moves up your thigh. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively, as he presses you even harder against the sink.

"That's right," he growls against your lips. "You're mine, and I'm going to take you every way I want." He starts to push your shirt up, wanting to feel more of your skin against his. His hand skims over your hip and then moves to your stomach, his touch light but confident. He continues to kiss you, his mouth moving down to your neck, and then your shoulders as he starts to undress you even more.

He finally pulls away, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in every inch as if he was claiming it as his own. His breathing is heavy, his eyes still filled with desire."You're beautiful," he whispers, his hands tracing over your body, his touch possessive and firm. "So soft, so mine."

He pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks."I'm going to own every part of you," he growls, his voice low and rough. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He pulls down your sweatpants and panties and then pulls down his sweatpants and boxers and then enters you and grunts seeing how tight you were. He pauses for a moment, feeling how tight you were. He gently grabbed your ribs with his strong waist and strong touch. He pressed hard against your body and his breathing became heavier. His lips left your ears and moved to your neck and shoulders. He moved away from your neck and rested his head on your cheek. you can feel it.

Sang-woo whispers "Mine" and his hand squeezes tighter around your ribs. "All mine" he mumbles again and he starts kissing your neck while continuing to move with you. You moan, scratching his back from the pleasure you were feeling. "So good".

“Mmm,” he hums softly at the feeling of your nails scratching his back. He lifts his head from your neck, wanting to look at your face.His eyes dark and lustful as he stares at you, taking in the expression on your face as he continues to move rough with you."You're so good to me," he whispers. "So perfect."

You moan softly and look up at him before capturing your lips with his. He deepens the kiss, his hand sliding up to your face as he kisses you back hungrily. He pushes closer to you, pinning you against the wall as he continues to move with you. His body feels hot and strong against yours, and his grip is tight and possessive.

Sang-woo pulls away slightly, his lips hovering near your ear. His breathing is heavy, and he can't help but let out a soft moan, his enjoyment obvious."You're so good," he whispers. "So sweet."His hand slides from your face down to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he continues to move.

“I’m coming” you whisper looking at him. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, and his grip on you tightens.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice a low, rough growl against your ear. "Let me feel how good you are." He starts to move a more faster, his body pressing against yours."That's it," he whispers. "You're doing so well for me."

You moan and he comes, clinging to him more. Sango woo pushed himself two more times and came inside you. He let out a low moan as he finally let go, his body trembling against yours.Sang-woo held you close, his face burying in your neck. His breathing was ragged, and he leaned into you, his grip on you still tight.“You’re amazing,” he murmured against your skin. “Absolutely perfect.”

You give a lazy smile resting your head on his chest. "May I know your name?" You murmur softly. He hums softly, his hand slowly moving up and down your back.

"It's Cho Sang-woo," he says softly, a slight smile on his lips. "But you can call me Sangwoo." He gently lifts your head up so that you're looking at him.

"And what's your name, darling?" he asks, his voice now softer and a bit more tender. “Y/N” you reply softly.

"Y/N," he repeats softly, as if testing it on his lips. "That's a pretty name."

He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear."I want to hear you say my name, Y/N," he whispers, his eyes dark and intense as they locked with yours. "Can you do that for me, darling?" he continues, his voice low and seductive. "Say my name, just like I'm yours."

You nod softly looking at him. “Sang-woo,” you whisper. He hums, a satisfied smile playing on his lips."That's it." he murmurs, his fingers tracing lightly along your jawline. "Good girl. I like the way my name sounds on your lips."

[asunflowerana]

will you go to prom with me?

summary: prom is near, and your sweet, popular friend will do anything to have you as his date.

with: Gojo Satoru.

warnings: yandere behavior, blackmailing (not from satoru), slight blood mentions.

words: 1448.

a/n: i'm just gonna sit back and pretend this didn't give me chills. thinking of turning this into a series, but i'll hold myself from now haha

"Go to prom with me." It's not what you'd expect to hear on a Tuesday morning, right after a wearing History class. Even more so coming from the mouth of no other than Gojo Satoru, the coolest, most desired boy in school.

Yes, you've been friends with him for almost a year. And yes, you get on very well together, crack some side-jokes at classes, sometimes go out to grab some food, do homework at the library, and even stay up at night until sunrise on the phone, freaking out while studying for a math exam that none of you knew about it — or not paying attention, to be more honest. 

So yeah, you're friends. But it's Gojo Satoru we're talking about. And Gojo Satoru is just way out of anyone's league.

You're simply dumbfounded.

"I—" You swallow hard, feeling like you just lost your memory and no longer know how to complete sentences. You're feeling a lot of things, honestly, the guy you've had so many daydreams with saying he wants to have you as his partner, and there you are, a pile of nerves trying to hide the hard, loud way your heart beats inside.

And it's not that you don't want to accept it. Heck, you want to say yes so badly, how many times did you catch yourself watching those sappy rom coms and wondering if you and the white-haired boy would make a fine couple like that. He's the whole package, and if those gorgeous blue eyes and jaw-dropping looks weren't enough, he's also so kind to you, that you can't help but develop a crush.

But as expected, he didn't catch only your attention, but the whole school as well. Kaya Nami, one of the troublemaker cheerleaders, is in the line and does everything she can to make sure nothing gets in her way.

"If I were you, I'd stay away from Satoru Gojo. You won't like having me as an enemy, believe me." She threatened you last Friday, right during PE class. Confused wasn't enough to describe how you felt, but you didn't say anything back to not cause drama, only nodding and watching her head off like nothing happened.

"...I'm sorry, Satoru, but I can't." And unfortunately, that warning was enough to hinder you from making the choice you wanted.

It goes without saying how astounded Gojo was by your answer, that probably being his first time ever being rejected. "What do you mean 'you can't'?" And then his tone dropped an octave, changing to something more seething. "Did someone ask you? You said yesterday to me that you didn't get invited."

"And you're right, I didn't get it." You try to reason, not liking the way he's bothered by your rejection. " it's just... I didn't think you wanted to go with me!" And you didn't lie, even though you said it more as an excuse.

"Well, now you know." He gets closer, almost making you hit your back at the locker behind you. His eyes say he didn't buy any of your excuses. "So, why can't you go? I mean, I know how overwhelming my beauty can be, but you're just as pretty, sweetheart."

His mood suddenly changes to the usual Gojo Satoru, the cheeky guy who enjoys flustering you for fun. Grazing your chin between his index and thumb, he looks deep at you. "I'll give you the best time you ever had. Just be my date."

It takes everything on you to not jump in his arms and let yourself get swept off your feet. Why does he have to make this so difficult? Taking a deep breath, you remember the headache you're gonna get if you don't make the right choice. "Satoru, I'd love to be your date, really. It's just, I think there's someone else that would make a better date than me."

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. You don't know if he got angrier or had enough of your pitiful answers, but you wish you could be able to read only a fraction of Satoru's mind, cause he's staring for too long at you, and you don't know what else to say other than stare back at him.

Finally, he steps back, diverting his gaze to a random spot for a moment before moving to look at you again. Sliding his hands inside his pants pockets, he seems to accept the situation, but you're still not sure of what you see. "I guess you're not changing your mind, huh? Then tell me, who's this 'perfect match'  that you think would be better for me?" He questions with a hint of disdain, but he tries to hide it with a small side smile.

The girl appears in the scene before you can mention her name as if she was waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and make her move on him. By the way your shoulders slump and your eyes lower to the ground, he quickly assumes that she's the person you were talking about earlier and that for some reason, she's making you very uncomfortable. Not you nor Nami noticed the way Gojo glares at a blank spot. Thinking, he mindlessly accepts the blond girl's invitation to lunch, giving you a brief hug before going away. "If that's what you want." He whispers unexpectedly in your ear, offering you a final smile before letting himself be guided to the cafeteria.

You spend the rest of the day wanting to beat yourself for wasting the chance you had to go out with Satoru. You don't talk to him as much during the week, since Nami was making sure to grab every second of his free time at break. It didn't take too long to figure out that both of them would go to prom together, and even though you were the one who made that happen, it still stings to imagine them having a good time.

Prom day arrives, and in the end, no one invites you. It wasn't something completely unexpected, but to be honest, you were hoping that at least one of your friends would be kind enough to want you as a company just so you could all enjoy the "night to remember". Honestly, you didn't want to miss such an important event, and even though there was a chance that you'd make a fool of yourself, it's still your prom, and you have the right to make the most of it, with or without someone.

Kicking away the self-pity, you dressed up and got ready for the special night, wearing that beautiful gown that you remember once showing on Pinterest to Satoru, months before the event. Checking your purse one more time, you catch your phone to ask for a cab, when you hear three familiar knocks on your front door.

Opening your house, you come face to face with someone you never would've imagined seeing at that moment. There stood Gojo Satoru, with a black tuxedo that perfectly accentuates his body, a bouquet of pink camellias in his left hand, glasses off, and a beautiful lopsided smile.

"...Wow." The combo of his honest compliment, his lingering, fond gaze in your direction, and the fact that you made him momentarily speechless, makes your whole self overwhelmed with endearing sensations, especially your warm cheeks.

But that passes too quickly since you don't understand the sudden visit.

"S-Satoru? What are you doing here?" You didn't want this to be the first thing to say to him, but you're so confused, that you don't know what else to say. "I thought you were going out with Nami. Where is she?"

Awakening from the brief trance you provoked in him, the white-haired boy only increases his smile in a rather strange way. " Didn't you know? Mina got in an accident yesterday, she fell from the stairs and ended up breaking her leg."

One more time, you were taken by surprise. As for your friend, he doesn't sound as worried as you imagined he would be after giving this message, but he still makes a respectful pause after saying it.

Satoru also notices your reaction, observing the way you empathetic self got sad for that girl's situation. Little did you know that she got exactly what deserved. And if you looked more closely at your gift, instead of worrying yourself, you'd notice the blood stains around the wrapping paper, the remains of what your future partner did to prove his love.

To his luck, you're just too pure to realize what you don't need to. And for that, Satoru smiles, gazing at you with sparks again.

"So now, will you go to prom with me?"

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated 🦋

© asunflowerana 2024

[thewordswewrite]

Be My Guest

Pairing | Kate Carter x Tyler Owens

Summary | One time Tyler stays in Kate’s guest room and one time she stays in his

Warnings | discussions of trauma/injury associated with storm chasing, SMUT 18+

W/C | 6.6k

A/N | We wanted to hop into the Twisters fandom before it took ao3 by storm and this is *so far* what we've come up with. So...if you feel it... -smoe <33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link 

Hers

She came home for safety, familiarity, to find her way forward but instead, she found herself more lost than when she’d arrived. 

It was only supposed to be a week. Sure, Kate thought it would be difficult to be back in the field but she hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t anticipated him. It shouldn’t matter. She had a job in New York, a life, a stable, safe job, her own apartment–everything she needed. But was it everything she wanted? 

What Tyler had said crossed a line but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. It was just something she probably already knew, deep down, and hadn’t wanted to accept. She was running away from the storm but she should know better than most that it would always catch up.

With an aggravated sweep of her arm, all of her past research was on the floor, pages floating around her before finding a place to land. She almost immediately regretted the mess but it had felt good. For the last five years, she’s avoided risk but now it almost feels hypocritical to say that she misses it.

Kate bent to gather the papers but only grabbed a few before stopping at her Cloud Physics notebook which had fallen open to a familiar page. She sat down in front of it and traced the impressions of her writing on the pages. It was too much to retrace her steps, to consider what had gone wrong. She needed to get out of her head and she couldn’t do that without getting out of this damn barn.

She knocked lightly on the kitchen door so as not to startle her mom. Being an adult, Kate felt an aversion to putting these things on her mom. Her mother had always been supportive, even when knowing her daughter’s passion was actively putting her in danger. Maybe she just didn’t want her mom to repeat the same sentiments as Tyler but she also knew she wasn’t about to come to any decision without some guidance. Just like seeing her middle school science project again, she felt like a child standing in the kitchen.

“Kate?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.” She sighed and pulled out the chair at the dining table that had always belonged to her. The smell of whatever her mother was stirring made her stomach grumble. “Where’s Tyler?”

“Oh, he drove pretty far so he’s getting cleaned up.” Kate could tell her mom was trying to sound uninterested, maybe for her sake but still she asked, “What’s his story anyway?”

“He’s just some internet star from Arkansas,” She explained, picking at a stain on the table. For a moment she thought about leaving it at that but the fire he had lit in the barn was still burning inside her. Sardonically, she added, “He’s made a living as a so-called ‘Tornado Wrangler’ but so far he’s only shot some fireworks into a cyclone and nearly killed the reporter signed on to cover him and his team.”

Her mom chuckled and replied, “Sounds like a man looking for a thrill to me.”

Again, she felt like a child relaying the latest gossip from the schoolyard but she couldn’t help but continue.

“And his whole team is this ragtag group of people who’ve never been to school for this either!”

“I see.”

“I mean sure he’s studied meteorology but they could get seriously hurt.” Kate had busied herself by fiddling with a napkin she’d pulled from the homemade holder. The shreds of it were getting smaller and smaller.  “They’re no professionals.”

Her mom hummed, acknowledging her annoyance but countered with, “Well he doesn’t seem too bad to me, he did drive all the way here.” Although her mother graciously spared her the ‘for you’ that they both knew completed that thought, she felt its weight. It was easier to make him seem unlikeable than tell her mom that it was her that was in the wrong.

“You’d believe me if you saw the shirts he sells, his face all sprawled across them.” Kate laughed, thinking of the cheesy slogans. It wasn’t lost on her that she had assumed the worst of him. She thought back to what Lily had said and felt ashamed. “Though,” She conceded, “the money does pay for food for the aftermath survivors. They were handing it  out at the last town we were in after the tornado hit.”

“Not all bad then?” Her mother turned fully to face her and Kate knew her teasing expression said all she needed to know.

“I guess not.”

_ _ _

Dinner had been passable, if not enjoyable. Kate had figured it would be awkward, that the dynamic between her and her mom would be offset by Tyler’s presence but it had flowed easily. The only gripe she had was that her mother had gone over her head to invite him to stay the night. In her ideal world, she would’ve ushered him out right after dinner saying a quick thanks for his concern but sending him on his way knowing that she’d never have an obligation to speak to him again. 

Tyler had, of course, helped her mom with the dishes, leaving her to watch awkwardly so as not to take up unnecessary space in the small kitchen. She’d shot him a tight smile as he’d excused himself to his room for the night. 

“Well,” Her mom said from the doorway, “I’m off to bed. Shut the lights, will you?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she made her way past the living room to her bedroom. 

Kate tapped her fingers sporadically against the table, the sound echoing in the quiet house. She hadn’t been fully present for dinner. Every time she looked at Tyler she could only think about what she was doing wrong, what she was missing. As much as she resented the fact, there was no way she could make peace with the past couple of days if she didn’t get in another word with him.

She flipped the last of the switches off and made her way up the stairs, avoiding the ones she knew were extra creaky. At the landing, Kate considered just going to her bedroom but her feet kept their integrity and trudged her towards the guest room.

Her hand was poised to knock when the door opened.

“Kate?” The sound of his voice combined with the unexpected image made her jump. Whatever she had been prepared to say had left with her surprise but Tyler was already speaking again.  “Listen, what I said in the barn was out of line I shouldn’t have–”

“No you shouldn’t have…but you weren’t wrong either.”

Stepping back, he opened the door a bit more and though it wasn’t quite an invitation. It was a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross with his apology and her admittance the gist of what she’d hoped for. She promised herself that if he didn’t try to say anything else, she’d just turn around and walk away. He bit his lip, seeming to wrestle with something the same way she was.

“What’s the story behind you and Javi?” The question surprised her and she felt a vague excitement about his interest or rather the fact that he was interested at all. But the story itself was not something she was sure she could share.

“We met in college, he was friends with my…my boyfriend at the time.”

Tyler’s eyebrow raised in a silent question before he said, “And your boyfriend he was…”

She couldn’t stand in the hallway any longer where she was fully open to his scrutiny whether the story inspired pity or something else. Kate stepped past him into the room and started to explain,

“He was in the accident, along with two of my best friends.” She folded her arms across her chest, in a way trying to shield herself from the memories. “We were testing the polymer on what we thought was an EF1 but–”

“It was an EF5.” She nodded and his lips shifted into a sympathetic frown. Kate sat on the edge of the bed so that she didn’t have to face him head on.

She continued with, “So, I quit school and packed up to New York. Javi went back to Miami but because of the outbreak he thought he could use a second pair of eyes and invited me on.” From her peripheral, she could see the way he nodded along as she spoke, the genuine compassion still written in his features. She shrugged, unwilling to allow herself to feel the extent of the situation and the memories in front of him, “None of it matters though, I’ll be back in the city by the end of the week anyway.”

“You mean you’re giving up?” Tyler asked like it was somehow a personal affront to him or some greater injustice. Kate wasn’t sure what he cared. They’d only just met and he didn’t know her, not really. 

“I’m not giving up. I can’t live like this again, risking my life every day.”

“Because of the accident?” The way he said it, like it was only a passing moment and not something that monumentally changed not only her life but her, made her response sharp. 

“Yes, because of the accident.” 

He was unshaken by her hostility and placed a hand lightly on top of hers where it sat between them on the bed.

“Kate, I’ve seen people get hurt too, I’ve–” She couldn’t listen to this, couldn’t have him reduce her experience by comparison. If he thought this was the way to change her mind, he was sorely mistaken.

“Yeah, Tyler, well I got hurt. I watched people die, and I’ll bear those scars for the rest of my life.” Her body filled with tension of the memory as her breath began to quicken. She let the anger take over, the simplicity of it easier than the complicated truth. “I don't know why I even–”

 “Hold on–Kate!”

Kate could feel the air his failed reach created as he tried to grab her wrist to stop her. She was fast though, spurred on by the singular goal of getting the hell away from him. When she made it to the threshold of her room, she moved to shut the door. It almost slammed fully closed but groaned as the wood crashed into the foot he’d managed to snake in.

“Go to bed,” She demanded.

“So what, you’re going to help Javi line the pockets of Riggs for the rest of the week? The real estate shark that's directly profiting off the suffering of these people?” It seemed he couldn’t help, was adept at, pushing her buttons. If she were any bolder, she’d have already struck the self-righteous expression off his face.

“I didn’t know about that, I would have never–these are my people but this isn’t the way, the polymer didn’t work and people died because of it.”

“More will too, but only if you don’t do anything.” He tried to reach for her again but she shrugged away, “It could work. Together we could do this.” Tyler’s expression was pleading, his eyes urging her to make the right decision.

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

His

The flight was thankfully uneventful and much easier than her last flight to Oklahoma when she’d been dreading the very idea of her return. There were still memories that haunted the place she called home but now she could rest assured that they weren’t losses for nothing and that she may very well be able to save someone, hopefully many someones, from the same suffering she had endured for years.

Kate dragged her suitcases through the airport and the bustle of people coming and going made her feel oddly comforted. New York was easy to get lost in and for the time, it was exactly what she needed. But it had only ever been a place she ran away to and after a while she was running too fast to ever see it for what it was. Here, in Oklahoma, she was home.

She made her way out to the pickup lanes and was met with a calm blue sky, one that she knew–or maybe even hoped–wouldn’t last. At the five-minute mark, Kate was unbothered. By ten, she considered concern. By twenty, she was on the phone. It took three calls getting sent to voicemail before her mother picked up on the fourth.

“Hey, are you alright?” She tried not to sound too concerned but it wasn’t like her mother to forget an obligation or to not pick up the phone. 

“Oh, sunshine, I’m fine. It’s my truck that’s acting up,” Her mom replied. “I was on the road already when it decided to quit on me. I’m not sure how long repairs are going to take. You want me to call someone for you?” Kate sighed, more relieved by her mother’s well-being than bothered by the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” She answered, “As much as you don’t like it, I am a big girl. I can take care of it.”

“I know you can, baby. Don’t worry about making it here tonight, just take care of yourself.”

They exchanged ‘I love you’s before it sunk in that actually did have to take care of it. She found herself a spot on a nearby bench and tucked her luggage in beside her. Scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovered over Javi before something urged her to keep going. Kate wasn’t sure if this was a bad idea but lately, she could handle a little risk.

“Hello?” She bit her lip, knowing this was her last chance to turn back. Still, he might not even be around or available to get her.

“Hey, Tyler?”

“Uh, yeah?” His voice was in performance mode, his uncertainty no match to his inherent charisma. Kate found herself filled with an urgent hope.

“It's Kate, Kate Carter.”

“Kate!” She could hear the smile in his voice. It was the first time she’d called him since he gave her his number and she was just beginning to regret not using it sooner. “What uh…what's going on?”

Her stomach flipped at the realization that she had to explain herself, that she wasn’t just calling him. Oh god, was this a mistake? Kate had thought there was something there when they were saying goodbye but maybe this was pushing it.  

“Are you in Oklahoma by any chance?”

“I am actually,” Tyler replied before he, with a hopeful tone, asked, “Are you here?”

“Do you think you could pick me up from the airport?” She fought the urge to cross her fingers like a little girl. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she had to call Javi but she couldn’t help but want to see where this path led.

“Of course!” Her chest tightened, a mix between excitement and worry. “Is everything alright with your mom?” Kate’s cheeks flushed, touched by his concern. 

“Yeah–truck just wasn’t starting, don’t worry,” She said, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

“Alright then, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” In the background, Kate could hear his keys jingling already and she smiled to herself.

“Thanks so much. Bye.”

_ _ _

Kate had been inside, sitting at a cafe when her phone buzzed in her pocket, Tyler letting her know that he’d made it. She tossed out her empty coffee cup before regathering her things and taking a deep breath. If she was being honest with herself, she was excited to see him but she didn’t want to endure the inevitable teasing she’d be subject to should she seem too eager to be in his presence.

The sliding doors opened and it took her a minute to spot the familiar red truck. Her eyes followed the path to where Tyler was busy basking in the attention of an adoring fan. What more could she expect?

“And did you want this signed cause I could definitely sign this for you.”

He didn’t notice as she siddled up, even with the rumble of her suitcases on the concrete. She shook her head at the display of his ‘Tornado Wrangler’ persona and thought better than to let him off the hook.

With the exaggerated voice of a dedicated fan, she implored, “Oh my goodness! Is that Tyler Owens? I am your biggest fan!”

“That’s me darlin’, what can I do for–Kate.” He cleared his throat and straightened out his posture, putting on the real Tyler at the sight of her. Kate bit her lip, sparing him the laugh that threatened to escape her.

“Tyler,” She said, “You look good.”

“Well, I feel good.” Tyler stood with his hands on his hips, the two of them alone now and it seemed neither of them knew just what to say. She laughed at his remark and began to heave her luggage into the bed. Before she could lift the larger of the two bags, Tyler was stopping her with a hand on her wrist. Kate looked up at him, confused. 

“Don’t make me make you get in the truck.” She glared at him, gauging whether or not he was serious. He only matched her expression. “Get in the truck,” Tyler repeated.

Kate rolled her eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. She couldn’t help but lean over toward the shift, running her fingers across the buttons. Her pointer finger landed on the tape labeled, ‘Kate’s Barrels’ and traced over his writing. When the driver's door opened, she jumped at the movement and tore her hand away. 

“Headed to your mom’s?” Tyler asked, fingers tapping a rhythm onto the wheel.

“Uh, no actually just any motel close would be good. Home’s a bit far and the flight was long. I just want to go to bed.” She reminded herself that that was the only reason.

“I’m close,” He told her. Since when was he close? “I mean you could stay in my guest room and I could take you back to Sapulpa in the morning?” The idea sounded as equally dangerous as it was appealing. With a motel, she was in control of the situation but his place? There was no knowing.

Clearing her throat she answered, “That…sounds fine.”

Tyler tipped his hat toward her and then he was making his way out of the parking spot. For a little while, they sat in comfortable silence, the radio filling the empty space between them. Once they were outside the city, it was comforting to watch as farmland made up her view. The word rattled in her head again. Home.

“So, how did it end up going with the investors?” He asked. “Good, I assume since you’re back in Oklahoma.” Kate couldn’t help but smile knowing well enough already how happy he’d be to hear. Not to mention how happy she was to achieve something she’d been chasing since the possibility entered her mind.

“Yeah, it went very well actually. We uh–we got a lot of people interested and the offers were so good…I quit my job and sold the apartment. I’m back, back.”

Tyler’s smile grew to a million watts as he exclaimed, “Kate! That’s amazing!”

“Thank you, we’re really excited.” She thought she saw his grin falter a bit but she couldn’t pin down why. Still, after a moment he let out a whoop, honking the horn at the expense of the car in front of them. Kate laughed, placing her hand over his to keep him from doing it again.

“So, where you planning on living? With Javi?”

“Actually I’m not sure yet. Javi has this new girlfriend from back in Miami and they’re pretty wrapped up in each other.” His eyebrows raised and she continued, “My mom's kind of out of the way too. Plus, she’s thinking of selling since seed prices just keep going up. Says she’s sick of the weather.”

Tyler’s jaw went slack, exaggerating his shock. “Sick of the–Sick of the weather?”

“What can I say, she doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the storm.” Kate sighed theatrically. Her hand went to her forehead in a ‘woe is me’ gesture. He chuckled, punching her playfully in the arm.

“On the topic of prices though, she is right.” Tyler sighed as he turned onto a new street.  “That’s why I bought land and started from the ground up.”

“Land?” She repeated. It hadn’t been that long that she’d been gone. When and more so why had he decided to put down roots and outside of Arkansas for that matter.

“Yes, ma’am.” His mouth quirked up in a prideful smirk.

“And here I thought I’d be sharing some shitty motel room.”

They pulled into a long dirt driveway, the grass surrounding it still young. While the house was clearly new, the style had a nostalgic feel to it. It was painted a fresh shade of cream and the white wrap-around porch just screamed summer nights. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was going to visit some sweet old lady.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

Tyler opened her door for her like a proper gentleman and she stepped out into pleasant fresh air. The whole thing was picturesque. Kate supposed she shouldn’t really be surprised considering she didn’t really know his tastes but the whole thing surprised her nonetheless. 

She followed Tyler through the front door as he carried her bags inside. The interior was just as sweet as the exterior had been but Kate could see the signs that were uniquely him. There were various piles and pieces of gear strewn about that she recognized from having filled her mother’s house with. Even with the classic style, the appliances and layout were tastefully modern. She was impressed.

Kate stepped into the kitchen which seemed to be the most lived-in room. There were pictures of the Wranglers and what she assumed was his family stuck to the fridge. Her eyes drifted to a bulletin board hung up next to it and tacked up in the center of it was a page ripped out of their article from Ben, one with a picture of her. She could feel her cheeks flush even with him still in the other room. Though she wanted to, Kate knew she wouldn’t mention it.

“You hungry?” She jumped at the sound of Tyler’s voice.

“No, I couldn’t–” The same look that urged her to ‘get in the truck’ painted his face and she reconsidered her answer. “Starved.”

Tyler seemed satisfied. He pulled out a seat at the kitchen island where she could have a clear view of him whipping something together. The whole thing felt unnervingly domestic but she enjoyed it all the same.

“This place is really nice, Tyler,” Kate said. Gesturing toward his tricked-out home office–that was maybe a little too nice for a YouTube star–she pointed out, “Got a nice setup too.”

“Yeah, the team has pretty much paired off and they live here and there but we come back for a warm meal more often than not.”

“Not you though?” It had crossed her mind that maybe the sudden home ownership had been a response to some sort of serious relationship. She tried to sound casual since it wasn’t really any of her business.

Tyler smiled and shrugged. “Nah, a fearless leader has to hold down the fort.” Kate rolled her eyes and laughed at his cockiness. It was better knowing that it didn’t run deep. She thought better than to push it but still, she wanted to know what this whole thing was for.

“No, but seriously, why a house?”

“Oklahoma is the past, present and future of tornadoes. That’s no secret,” He replied like it was some well-known slogan. Yeah, the outbreak they experienced had put Oklahoma back on the map but Tornado Alley spanned a wide area, including Arkansas. 

“How do you figure?”

“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” Her stomach sank, trying to decipher the meaning behind what he said. His focus was trained on the pot in front of him like what he’d said was no big deal. What was she supposed to say to that?

Without an answer, Tyler clarified, “You’ve got better instinct than anyone I’ve ever met, better than any Doppler too.”

He’d turned to her and winked in her continued silence. Kate nodded with a smile like it was casual to her too. She shifted under his intense gaze and thought it was an apt time to break the tension with something she’d been tossing around in her mind. He laid a plate of spaghetti in front of her before sitting down himself. She cleared her throat.

“I was going to wait to bring this up but…I was wondering if you would consider being partners.”

“Really?” The excitement on his face was genuine and Kate could see the surprise too. It made her feel secure in her decision. 

“Javi and I both have stakes in it but he’s avoiding the field as much as he can right now. He’s got the business side under control but, like I said, he’s got someone at home who’d prefer he didn’t get blown away.”

Tyler stayed practically frozen in place. Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds after all. She could tell herself all she wanted that she wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t want to partner with her but that didn’t make it the truth. 

“What do you say, me and you?” Kate asked, bracing for his answer.

“You and me,” Tyler replied genuinely and with what she hoped was a hint of awe.

They ate silently, half from hunger and half in consideration of their future. As much as Kate didn’t want to admit it, there were other questions lingering between them. When her plate was cleared, he insisted on taking care of the simple cleanup himself leaving Kate to sit idly at the kitchen table, unable to get anywhere else without his direction anyway.

With the dishes washed, Tyler turned his attention back to her but it seemed he had just as much of an idea of how to proceed as she did.

“So, uh…” She began, uncertain where she was going.

“I bet you probably want to get cleaned up. There’s an en suite in the guest room.”

“Yeah, great.” As much as she wanted to bolt, Kate got up from the table slowly as if she were as calm as could be. Still, she didn’t wait for any instructions as to where to go. She didn’t turn back to look at him as she climbed the stairs, internally cursing herself for adding to the awkward atmosphere.

“First door on the right!” Tyler called after her because, of course, she hadn’t asked.

_ _ _

The warm water had been just what she needed, especially paired with the time away from Tyler to think. As much as there had been a sense of tension between them, her feelings had settled on contentment and maybe even excitement. They were partners now and they had plenty of time to figure everything and anything else out. They’d been through hell already and he would help her through it again.

She stepped out of the shower, her feet hitting the plush bath mat, and reached for a towel. Her hand grabbed only air. Upon further inspection, the towel rack was completely unoccupied. Shit.

“Um, Tyler?” Kate called. She waited a few minutes for his response and when it didn’t come she yelled louder. “Tyler!” She let out a breath when she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Yeah?” 

“There are no towels in here!”

“Shit. My bad, no one has used that bedroom yet,” Tyler explained. His feet were already causing the wood floor to creak when he assured, “I’ll grab you one, be right back.”

Kate couldn’t believe this was happening. There was a good chance that she’d expose herself in the exchange. She’d even left her clothes on the bed, choosing to strip before going to the bathroom.

A few minutes later there was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Here, I brought you a few. I don’t know what you prefer,” Tyler said.

She had to assume that he was smart enough not to look. He’d been nothing but polite after all. When she opened the door, his eyes were covered by the palm of his hand, and his other arm was extended out to her. Kate tried not to laugh at the look of him.

“Thanks.” 

Kate wrapped the largest towel around herself and used another to dry the excess moisture from her hair. She pulled the door back open, assuming he was gone but she was met with his figure, eyes still shielded. Nearly bumping right into him, she let out an involuntary sound something between a squeak and a groan. Tyler echoed the sound and quickly flipped his hand so he could see her. She had to assume that his subsequent turning around was motivated by her state of undress.

She didn’t know what else to do besides starting to dress. It seemed he wasn’t done talking to her just yet. After a moment, he spoke.

“Uh, Kate…I, uh, realized I didn’t say thank you just then for considering me.”

“Who else could I possibly consider?” She winced at her own words. By no means did Kate want to sound like she was unhappy, she just didn’t want to make it a big deal between them.

“Well, right, I guess there’s not many storm chasers to begin with and especially not ones who’ve studied meteorology.” Kate could hear the slight hurt in his voice even as he tried to tease and she couldn’t blame him. She’d said the wrong thing. She quickly finished pulling on her pajama pants so she could focus on the conversation before she said something else she regretted.

“Tyler,” She said softly. He still had his back considerately turned to her. Like a kid trying to pass notes in class, Kate tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Tyler smiled as he faced her and it gave her the boost she needed to say what she wanted.  “You’re the reason I’m doing this in the first place. You believed in me even when I didn’t. We’re going to be helping people and that’s because of you.”

He was shaking his head before she’d even finished.

“You can’t believe that, it's your polymer, your idea–”

She took a confident step forward, the action effectively shutting him up. The closer Kate got the more she angled up at him, his height towering over her. Her hand found its way to his jaw, cupping it gently, her thumb brushing over the stubble of his skin. Before she had the chance to close the distance, Tyler took his chance to capture her lips with his own.

It started slow, hesitant to the possibility of too much too fast but quickly gained momentum as they threw caution to the wind. It had been years since Kate had done this, never quite feeling able to move on from Jeb and the accident but now with a sense of closure and Tyler’s guiding hand she felt ready.

His mouth was eager as their kiss deepened, Tyler’s tongue painting the inside of her mouth, almost as if he was committing it to memory. Their heavy breaths filled the air and neither of them seemed willing to break the kiss as the minutes went on. It wasn’t until her fingers played at the hem of his shirt that he broke off, looking down at her through hooded eyes, his mouth swollen and flushed.

“Kate…”

The sight was too much and she couldn’t help but bring her lips back to his skin. They found purchase at his pulse point, kisses littering his neck as she made her intentions known to him with every touch.

Taking a step back, Tyler’s hands cradled her face and he searched her eyes, looking for what she wasn’t sure but when he seemed to find it a smile broke across his face. It was the same smile he sported every time the wind picked up and the radar lit up red: a man ready to face a challenge.

“You still wanna stay in my guest room?” He asked, though his joking town was limited by his heavy breathing. Kate knew he was teasing but he was just as eager as she was.

“If you keep up with that attitude I just might,” She replied, smiling ruefully.

“Honey,” Tyler beamed, “all I’ve got is attitude.”

A chuckle escaped her lips and his face turned from cocky to sincere before he leaned in to steal a kiss once more. His hands moved from her face to grasping her own as he led her to what she assumed was his room.

Kate struggled to keep up as he held his hands behind him for her to grasp. She held them awkwardly as the unusual position did not grant her a good grip. The playful air gave her butterflies but also made her feel a sense of safety, knowing that things didn’t have to be heavy between them.

Tyler turned, pulling their hands over his head so that Kate twirled around with him. He used the momentum to guide her backward into his room with his hands on her hips, attempting a cheesily seductive smolder. She used her heel to kick the door shut behind them.

Kate walked ahead of him to go sit on the edge of his bed. She could tell he was watching her closely to consider his next move but she enjoyed the idea of playing coy with him. Ignoring him, she took in the space which was surprisingly sparse especially compared to the ground floor.

“Wow, real homey in here,” Kate joked, feigning awe at the blank walls

“Oh, hush,” Tyler chided, “It hasn’t been that long since we finished construction.”

She put up her hands in surrender and replied, “Sure, sure.” He rolled his eyes at her and then his expression became soft again. Tyler walked forward, kneeing her legs open and standing between them. With just a tilt of her head they were kissing again and this time when she grabbed his shirt, he let her take it off of him. Kate paused a moment to take him in, the image one she intended to commit to memory before pulling her own shirt over her head.

The rest of their clothes came quickly but when it was time for her to remove her jeans she hesitated.

“We don’t have to do this.” Tyler reassured her, misreading her reluctance. Kate shook her head.

“It's not that it’s–” She huffed in frustration and rather than continue to overthink, pulled her pants down in one swift motion, hoping he’d move past the interruption rather than linger on the issue.

Instead, his eyes moved immediately to her lower half and zeroed in on her leg…her scar. Kate’s stomach began to churn. She knew that he knew the story but she hated that it had to be part of this moment between them. He had been part of making it possible for her to redeem herself, to make sure the losses were not worth nothing. Still, the memories and the physical signs would never leave her. It made her insecure but if he had a problem with it, this wasn’t worth continuing.

“Is this from…”

“Yes,” Kate replied flatly. She didn’t have anything to prove and she wanted more than anything to move on from this as soon as possible. Tyler looked up from the marred skin on her leg and cupped her face with one of his hands. His eyes were filled with pure admiration.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Tyler’s lips were on hers again as he leaned her back into the bed, his body sculpting to hers. She felt a hand trail down her body, over her ass, before he hoisted her leg over his shoulder, his face turning towards her thigh and kissing over her scar as he lined himself up with her entrance. He looked at her until she realized he was waiting for her cue. She grabbed onto his upper arms and nodded, making it clear she was ready.

He was slow with her, caressing in all the right spots and making sure she was comfortable until he was finally fully inside her and they moaned in unison at the feeling. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time and when he took a moment to brush the hair from her face it made it all that much sweeter so much so that she laughed. Tyler looked at her, concerned but when she kissed him, he smiled into it catching her drift.

As he began to grind into her, he coaxed mewls from her lips, her hips meeting his instinctually at the pleasure. The way he watched her carefully for her reactions made her heart soar. He made it evident that they were in this together, that he cared about making her feel good. One of Tyler's hands still held her leg while the other found her clit, circling it while keeping pace and she couldn’t help the words spilling from her mouth.

“Tyler,” Kate pleaded, “Don’t stop.” He listened to her demand but she could see how it made him falter. His expression was that of awe as if he couldn’t believe that he was here with her, that she was enjoying what he was doing for them. She curled an arm around his neck and played with the hair there in a way that caused him to flush.

“I gotcha,” Tyler promised, somehow pressing them closer together, “I gotcha.”

She could’ve been embarrassed at how fast she came but Tyler didn’t give her a chance, instead riding her out through her climax and continuing to thrust even after. It was almost too much as tears of pleasure pricked her eyes and her moans filled the room. Her hands gripped the sheets, his arms, his hair, anything that she could reach to keep hold of her senses as they were overwhelmed. All she could think or comprehend was Tyler.

“I–I’m close,” He stammered, the tremble in his voice radiating throughout his body, “Kate, I–”

Her vision went white when she came again, though she could hear Tyler moan her name like a mantra, his head buried in her neck. One hand reached into his hair while the other traced absent circles on his back. It took him a minute but eventually, he came back to her.

“Hey,” He said, letting out a breathy laugh. 

“Hi.”

Tyler pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, clearly savoring the moment. Kate didn’t want it to end either but she was confident that it was only beginning. They both let out their own versions of a disappointed noise as he pulled out.

When he disappeared into the ensuite, she pulled his comforter up around her, the scent of him enveloping her as well. He came back with a damp towel and once helped her clean up, he flopped into bed beside her, pulling her into his side.

Kate placed a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm. Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She wanted to bask in the moment a bit longer but before she knew it she was beginning to yawn. 

The last thing she remembered before she fell into a peaceful sleep was the sweet kiss they shared and the soft rumble of his voice.

“Goodnight, Kate.”

[chrissssssmut]

yandere idol sisters (yes, like sisters in blood) Sumin and J x male reader feat. yandere STAYC?

Our Manager, Ours alone

Yandere STAYC Sumin & J x Male Reader

AN: Yipee!! I am still writing as i post this XD. Enjoy this one!

You weren’t sure why the last manager quit.

It was odd—someone in charge of the most successful idol duo in the world wouldn’t just leave without a good reason. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was burnout. Or maybe, just maybe, it was something else.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was that you were their new manager.

Sumin and J.

Siblings, stars, goddesses in the eyes of their fans. They had the entire world at their feet. Sold-out world tours, constant chart-topping hits, luxury brand deals. They weren’t just popular. They were a phenomenon.

And you, just some guy with a decent resume, were now the one in charge of keeping them in line.

At first, it wasn’t hard. The two sisters were professional—always on time, always working hard, always treating you with a surprising amount of respect. They even went out of their way to make you comfortable. You expected them to be difficult divas, but they weren’t.

If anything, they were too perfect.

Too obedient. Too kind. Too invested in your comfort.

It was flattering at first.

Then it got unsettling.

The first time you felt something was off, you were at their practice room late at night.

"Manager-nim," Sumin called out in her soft yet commanding voice. "You’ve been working too hard. Sit down for a bit, okay?"

You were about to refuse, but then J grabbed your wrist. Her touch was light, but firm enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don’t be stubborn," she pouted. "You take care of us, so we should take care of you too, right?"

The way she said it—like it was a fact, like it was a rule—made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Still, you sat down.

They both smiled.

You should have paid more attention to that smile.

It started small.

Sumin would linger behind after practice, chatting with you even when she was clearly exhausted. J would always be close, sitting next to you even when there were plenty of other seats available.

Then it got worse.

Your phone started blowing up with messages from them at odd hours.

Sumin: "Manager-nim, I miss you already."

J: "Come over. We’re bored."

One time, you casually mentioned you liked a specific cologne. The next day, both girls smelled exactly like it.

When you asked about it, they just giggled.

"What? We just want to smell nice for you," Sumin teased, eyes shining with something unreadable.

J tilted her head, watching your reaction closely.

"Do you like it?"

Something about the way she asked made your skin prickle.

You laughed it off.

You shouldn’t have.

One night, after a grueling schedule, you were finally heading home. You were drained. The only thing on your mind was sleep.

Then your phone buzzed.

J: "Manager-nim, can you come to our dorm? It’s important."

Your stomach twisted. Something felt wrong.

But saying no wasn’t an option.

So you went.

Their dorm was quiet when you entered. Too quiet.

"Sumin? J?" you called out.

The door shut behind you. The lock clicked.

Sumin stepped out of her room, wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie—your hoodie, the one you thought you lost weeks ago.

J was right behind her, barefoot, her long hair slightly damp like she just got out of the shower.

"You came," Sumin whispered, smiling.

"You always do," J added.

Your heart pounded.

Something was seriously wrong.

"You said it was important," you said carefully.

"It is," Sumin said, stepping closer. "It’s about us. About you."

J circled behind you, her fingers brushing your arm, your back, your shoulders.

"We don’t want another manager," J murmured.

"We only want you," Sumin whispered.

The way they spoke—gentle, sweet, and completely unhinged—made your stomach drop.

You took a step back. They stepped forward.

"Don’t be scared," Sumin cooed, tilting her head. "We won’t hurt you. We love you too much for that."

"Too much," J echoed. "You’re the only one who understands us. The only one who stays."

You reached for your phone.

Sumin snatched it away.

Your breath hitched.

"Don’t do that," she scolded, shaking her head. "You don’t need anyone else. We take care of you, right?"

J giggled. "So why do you keep trying to run away?"

Run away? You weren’t trying to—

…Were you?

You swallowed hard.

"Girls," you started carefully, "I think you’re just tired. Maybe we should—"

Sumin placed a finger over your lips.

"Hush," she whispered. "Just stay."

J hugged you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

"You belong to us, Manager-nim," she breathed. "And we don’t let go of what’s ours."

You wanted to believe it was a dream.

That the night before was just some exhaustion-fueled hallucination, that Sumin and J weren’t watching you like a pair of caged tigers ready to pounce.

But the warmth on your wrist was real.

Sumin’s grip was tight, her fingers curled around you in a way that was both delicate and inescapable.

J was still sitting on the floor, her head resting against the mattress, watching.

She smiled when she saw your eyes open.

"Good morning, Manager-nim," she said softly.

Her voice was light, gentle—like nothing was wrong, like you hadn’t woken up in a trap of silk and shadows.

Sumin stirred beside you, blinking the sleep from her eyes before tightening her hold.

"You didn’t run," she murmured, her voice pleased.

"I— I didn’t—"

"You didn’t try," J corrected, tilting her head. "That’s good. That means you’re starting to understand."

"Understand what?" you asked, forcing your voice to stay calm.

J’s smile widened.

"That you’re ours."

They wouldn’t let you leave.

Not yet.

"Just for today," Sumin had said sweetly, still clinging to your arm. "We barely get time with you outside of work. It’s not fair."

J sat beside her, her eyes sharp despite her pout.

"You don’t want to make us sad, right?" she whispered.

There was something dark beneath those words. A weight. A warning.

And so, for the next few hours, you were theirs.

They never left your side.

If you tried to stand, one of them would grab your wrist. If you reached for your phone, they’d take it away with a soft giggle and a "Not yet, Manager-nim."

They made you breakfast.

Fed you, even.

J held out a spoonful of food, her dark eyes watching your every move.

"Eat," she murmured.

You hesitated.

Sumin leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear.

"Be good for us."

Your hands clenched under the table.

You could feel it now—the invisible chains wrapping tighter and tighter.

They let you go. Eventually.

But not before Sumin pulled you into a hug.

"You won’t ignore us, right?" she whispered.

You froze.

"I—"

J was suddenly behind you, her fingers brushing your shoulders.

"Right?" she echoed.

You exhaled slowly. "…Of course not."

Sumin smiled.

J giggled.

"Good boy."

To everyone else, nothing had changed.

Sumin and J were still the bright, perfect idols they had always been.

And you were still their loyal, dedicated manager.

No one saw the way their hands would linger too long when they touched you.

No one heard the way their voices would dip into something darker when they spoke to you.

No one noticed the way they watched you, like they were waiting for something.

No one noticed how trapped you were.

Not even you.

Not yet.

But you would.

Oh, you would.

You thought you were careful.

You thought no one had noticed.

But someone did.

Her name was Minji, a senior staff member at the company, someone who had been around long enough to recognize when something was off.

And when she looked at you—when she saw the way Sumin and J clung to you, the way their eyes followed you like a predator watching prey—she knew.

"You’re not okay, are you?" Minji asked one evening after the girls had left for rehearsal.

You forced a smile. "What do you mean?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Don’t play dumb."

You swallowed hard.

She sighed, leaning against the door. "Look, I’ve been in this industry for years. I’ve seen obsessive fans, controlling managers, and toxic relationships. But this? This is different."

You didn’t say anything.

"You’re scared of them."

Your breath hitched.

Minji’s gaze softened. "I can help you," she whispered. "We can get you out of this."

Hope flickered in your chest.

A plan was made.

Tonight.

After the girls finished their live broadcast, Minji would create a distraction while you slipped out. A car would be waiting near the back entrance. You just had to make it there.

It was simple.

It was perfect.

And it was doomed from the start.

The broadcast ended. The girls returned to their dorm, exhausted and distracted—just as planned.

Minji gave you the signal.

You moved.

The hallway was empty. The exit was close. Just a few more steps—

A soft giggle froze you in place.

Sumin.

She was standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes half-lidded, her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

"Where are you going, Manager-nim?"

Your blood ran cold.

Minji appeared beside you, her face tight with fear.

"Sumin, go back to your room," she ordered, trying to keep her voice steady. "This isn’t your business."

Sumin tilted her head.

"Not my business?" she echoed.

Then she moved.

It was fast—too fast.

Before Minji could react, Sumin was on her, knocking her to the ground.

A sharp gasp filled the hallway.

Minji’s eyes widened in horror.

Sumin’s hand was over her mouth.

And in the other—

A knife.

The blade sank into Minji’s stomach, a sickening squelch breaking the silence.

Minji thrashed, muffled screams escaping between Sumin’s fingers.

"Shh," Sumin cooed, pressing a finger to her lips. "You’re being too loud."

Minji’s body jerked. Blood pooled beneath her.

Her screams faded into wet gurgles.

You stumbled backward.

Run.

You had to run.

You turned and bolted down the hallway, heart hammering against your ribs.

A door burst open.

J stepped out, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Manager-nim," she purred. "Are we playing hide and seek?"

Panic surged through you.

You ducked into the nearest room, pressing yourself against the wall.

Footsteps.

Slow. Taunting.

J was searching for you.

"Come out, come out," she sang softly. "I don’t like it when you hide from me."

You held your breath.

Then—

Pain.

A sharp, burning agony in your leg.

You collapsed with a strangled cry.

J was crouched beside you, her knife dripping with fresh blood.

"You always try to run," she murmured, tilting her head. "It’s cute."

You crawled away, panting.

A shadow loomed over you.

Sumin.

Her hands were covered in blood.

She was holding Minji’s ID card, twirling it between her fingers like a trophy.

"You betrayed us," she said softly.

You shook your head frantically. "I—I’m sorry—"

"Sorry isn’t enough," J whispered.

Sumin knelt down, cupping your face with bloody fingers.

"You need to be punished."

Darkness swallowed you whole.

You woke up bound to a chair, your wrists tied so tightly that the rope burned your skin.

The room was dim, lit only by soft, flickering candlelight.

Sumin sat on the bed, watching you with a serene smile.

J was beside her, holding something in her hands.

A scalpel.

You trembled.

"Sumin, J," you croaked, voice hoarse. "Please—"

Sumin traced a finger along your cheek.

"You’re ours, Manager-nim."

J pressed the scalpel against your arm, the cold metal making you shudder.

"You won’t leave us again," she whispered.

Then she dragged the blade down.

Pain bloomed.

You screamed.

They giggled.

The torture continued.

Cuts. Burns. Gentle whispers of love mixed with the sharp sting of punishment.

And then, when you were broken and trembling, when your mind could barely process anything but pain—

Sumin kissed your forehead.

J cradled your face.

"Now," Sumin murmured, stroking your hair. "You’ll never think of leaving again."

J smiled, pressing a bloodstained kiss against your lips.

Tears blurred your vision. Your body trembled, the raw sting of fresh wounds sending waves of agony through your nerves. You couldn’t move—not with the ropes digging into your skin, not with the weight of their eyes pressing down on you.

"Please…" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Please… forgive me…"

Sumin tilted her head, a slow smile curling on her lips. "Forgive you?"

J giggled, twirling the scalpel between her fingers. "That’s funny, Manager-nim. Really funny."

You sniffled, your breath coming out in broken sobs. "I—I won’t try again, I swear. Just… please…"

Sumin sighed dramatically, standing up from the bed. "J, do you think we should forgive him?"

J hummed, tapping the blade against her chin. "Mmm, I don’t know. He did try to leave us. And we can’t have that, can we?"

Your stomach twisted.

Sumin turned to you, a gleam in her eyes. "You need to understand something, Manager-nim. We are your world. You don’t need anyone else."

She took a step back, reaching for something on the nearby dresser. The dim candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room.

Music started playing.

A soft, slow melody.

And then, to your horror, Sumin and J started to dance.

It was hypnotic, the way their bodies moved in sync, the way they swayed to the rhythm with eerie grace. But it wasn’t just a dance.

It was a performance.

For you.

Their eyes never left you, their smiles never faltered.

"You’re so lucky, Manager-nim," Sumin purred, twirling effortlessly. "You get to see us like this. Just for you."

J giggled, flipping her hair as she moved closer. "Imagine what we could do if you tried to escape again."

Sumin’s voice was honeyed, dripping with something dark. "We could break your legs this time. Then you really wouldn’t be able to run."

"Or maybe we could take one of your fingers," J mused, stopping right in front of you. She trailed the scalpel along your shoulder, not deep enough to cut, but enough to make you shiver. "Wouldn’t that be fun?"

Tears slid down your cheeks.

J leaned in, her lips ghosting over your ear. "We could cut your vocal cords, too. That way, you wouldn’t be able to call for help."

Your breath hitched.

Sumin clapped her hands together, a bright smile lighting up her face. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

She skipped over to the dresser, pulling open a drawer. A moment later, she turned back around, holding something in her hands.

A stack of ID cards.

Your heart stopped.

Sumin walked toward you, humming softly. "Do you remember all those people who tried to ‘help’ you?"

She held up the first ID.

Your blood ran cold.

It was Minji.

She flipped to another.

One of the company’s security guards.

Another.

A fellow manager you used to see around the building.

Another.

Your friend, Hyunwoo.

Your stomach twisted violently.

No.

No, no, no.

"You always asked why you didn’t see them anymore, right?" Sumin giggled, dropping the IDs onto your lap. "Well, now you know!"

J clapped her hands excitedly. "They all wanted to take you away from us. We couldn’t let that happen, could we?"

You choked on a sob.

"Don’t cry, Manager-nim," Sumin cooed, wiping a tear from your cheek with her bloody fingers. "They were just obstacles. And now, they’re gone."

J smiled, pressing her forehead against yours. "And you? You’re still here. With us."

You wanted to scream. You wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

But you couldn’t.

Because this was real.

And it was only going to get worse.

Sumin sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "I think it’s time for more fun, don’t you?"

J grinned, gripping your chin between her fingers. "Yes. Let’s make sure Manager-nim never thinks of leaving us again."

The pain started again.

And this time, they didn’t stop until you couldn’t even dream of escaping.

[mrspiastri]

✩ mehendi lagake rakhna 🪷

pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader

cw: pure fluff, slightly suggestive at parts but nothing tooo crazy lol

wc: 1.8k words

an: my first fic :D

“Oscar, don’t tell me you haven’t practiced your steps! The sangeet is tonight!” Y/N’s cousins were simply frustrated with her dear boyfriend, who could not seem to dance to save his life and had also forgotten to practice the night before.

“I didn’t think it’d be so difficult! These steps are way too hard,” he protested, looking around for his girlfriend, who was seated among some ladies while she got her mehendi done. Apparently, being a bridesmaid at her cousin’s wedding included entertaining the many aunties and listening in on all their gossip

“Baby, are you aware of how mean your cousins are?” he huffed as he sat next to her.

“I told you to practice last night, but someone was too busy sampling the different kulfi flavors at the buffet.”

The man made a sound of indignation, then looked at Y/N’s palms, which were being adorned with a beautiful design.

“How does it look? Nice, na?” she asked while admiring her own hands.

Oscar agreed with a nod and a soft smile. She turned to look at him.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a game for you! Your name’s written on my palm—it’s designed into my mehendi! You need to find it!” She giggled, and even the artist smiled at him.

“Really? Well, it should be rather easy. My name’s not very long.”

She winked at him. “That’s what you think. Just you wait!”

“He has another thing to worry about, Y/N!” her mum called out, coming to place her palm on Oscar’s back. They both laughed, with Y/N letting out a “Amma, don’t tease him!”

“Why do I need to worry about that?” he asked as the women laughed.

“Well, there’s this old saying: the darker a woman’s mehendi comes out, the more her husband loves her, so you better hope it’s dark, or else…” Y/N threatened him as her mother quietly laughed.

“But we aren’t married, darling. How’s that fair?”

Hearing this, her mother let out a huff. “You two are basically married. The specifics don’t matter.”

He let out a groan of faux annoyance. “You find the most wonderful ways to get me in trouble, don’t you?” He rolled his eyes while peering into her mehendi, trying to spot his name before she elbowed him away.

“You can only find it after it’s dried. Now go and practice your steps—you’re in the first line with me during Kajra Re.”

“What’s that now?”

“Just go and practice, you idiot.” She laughed at him as he ran away, fearing how much he would be yelled at for being a bad dancer.

🪷🪷🪷

“There we go, nice and easy. Now let’s get the next one.”

Y/N’s brother had been at work moving up and down the venue, helping out with small jobs like moving tables, carrying in suitcases, and asking the guests if they had eaten or not. Somehow, he managed to rope Oscar into helping, and help he did, eager to get away from the evil dancing bridesmaids.

After many attempts at trying to move a table, her brother said, “Mate, you need to help me lift this. It won’t budge.”

But before Oscar could do anything, he heard Y/N’s voice calling out to him from across the open ground where the mehendi function was happening.

“You better go. She doesn’t like to wait,” her brother said, chuckling.

“Don’t I know it? Coming, babe!”

“There you are. Look, I need your help. The bride’s uncle and his family are coming in from the airport. She sent someone to pick them up, and I need to call them and check if they’re on their way.”

“Okay, so do it,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

She rolled her eyes. “Osc, I’ve got to let the mehendi dry—I can’t really touch anything. Be a darling and reach into my pocket and take it out for me, please.”

She turned her hip slightly to the side, to where her pocket was, her hands in the air, carefully held up to make sure she didn’t smudge her henna.

“Yeah, of course,” he said as he reached around her waist, reaching for her phone.

It was only then he realized just how close she was standing to him. Her beige lehenga and blouse, showing off her midriff, with her hair cascading beautifully down her shoulders. She smelled heavenly, like she always did, with hints of vanilla and cocoa butter.

He then made the mistake of looking down at her, his face tinted with a shade of pink similar to hers. Y/N’s eyes were focused on him, and in that moment, it dawned on her that she hadn’t really noticed how handsome Oscar looked that day. Wearing a simple cream kurta with his sleeves rolled up and his token slightly messy hair, he looked effortlessly perfect.

It took a lot of self-control for her not to kiss him in that moment. They stared at each other for a while, neither moving, until eventually the sound of someone calling out his name was heard.

“Oscar! Need you to help with the tables, mate.”

Her brother, as usual, coming in clutch to be the cockblocker.

Y/N grit her teeth in annoyance, and Oscar finally remembered he had to take her phone out. He fumbled with it for a second before dialing and dealing with the contact she asked him to.

He held the phone to her ear till she finished speaking, and then put the phone back in her pocket.

“Thanks, babe. Now run along before someone else yells out for you.”

🪷🪷🪷

It’s the evening of the sangeet, and Oscar’s long hours of practice (read: 1 hour and 13 minutes) were finally going to be tested.

The guests were all seated, and Oscar felt a pang of nervousness, similar to the kind he felt waiting for the lights to go out at a Grand Prix. Y/N felt his anxiety and reached for his hand, gently squeezing it to alleviate his stress. He smiled and squeezed it back, and before he knew it, the opening tunes to the song Ainvayi Ainvayi began to play.

He managed to remember the steps, almost missing one before he got back on track. They danced to a few more songs before coming to the final one—and the most important—Kajra Re.

The two of them were placed front and center, with everyone able to see them. He saw her parents and grandparents in the crowd, along with her cousins, who whistled as they took their places on the stage.

The nervousness seeped in again, with the worry of having to impress her family. But Y/N leaned in, whispering to him, “You’re going to kill it, hon. Trust me.”

“What if I don’t?” he whispered back.

“Well, then I’ll mess my steps too. Then we can look dumb together.”

“That’s difficult to believe—you’re a good dancer,” he quipped.

“Leave it to me. I’ll fumble so bad we’ll have to hide out in our hotel room.”

They laughed, just as the music started. And believe it or not, Oscar killed it.

It turned out Y/N’s relatives were so excited to see the Australian dance to the Bollywood songs that they didn’t seem to mind if he messed up a few steps. They hooted and cheered, with their volume increasing at the final step, where Oscar pulled Y/N toward him and dipped her back dramatically.

The audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance, but for Oscar, everything else was drowned out. The only thing he focused on was his girlfriend, looking up at him with admiration and all the love she could conjure in a single look.

She mouthed, “Told you!” a triumphant smile on her face. He laughed, unable to argue with her words.

🪷🪷🪷

“That was some performance, you two!” Y/N’s dad complimented the couple as they ate—or rather, as Y/N ate while Oscar fed her.

It turns out being a bridesmaid doesn’t just mean you get to take cute photos and plan a bachelorette party; it also means you have a lot of work to do to make the bride’s life easier. She’d been running around post-performance, and Oscar had finally managed to catch a hold of her and sit her down.

“You’ve gotta eat something. The last thing you ate was a tea sandwich at 5:30,” he said firmly.

“I’m too busy to eat, Osc. I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make to the vendors for tomorrow’s haldi ceremony,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help out with it. For now, just sit down and let me get some food into your body,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

And that’s how they got here, with him feeding her a spoonful of biryani as she leaned back in her chair.

“Well, thankfully I had a good group of teachers,” Oscar said, motioning toward the other bridesmaids, who laughed at his compliment.

“Y/N, why are you forcing the poor boy to feed you?” her father asked, using the affectionate tone he always used for his daughter.

“I’m too tired to eat, Appa. He’s forcing me to,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the rice still in her mouth.

“Well, at least we know you’re in good hands. Isn’t she?” her father said, nudging his wife.

“Oh yes, the very best. You’ve got your work cut out for you, kanna,” her mother added, making the entire table laugh.

Oscar leaned in and whispered into Y/N’s ear, “What did she call me now?”

Y/N smiled and replied, “She called you kanna. It’s like a term of endearment. She doesn’t even use it for my brother, so you should feel special.”

Oscar’s face lit up at the explanation, glad to feel so accepted and welcomed by her family. He grinned at her and fed her another spoonful of rice.

🪷🪷🪷

“By the way, I found my name,” Oscar said suddenly, making Y/N look up at him in confusion, only to notice him staring at her palms.

“Did you now? Where is it, then?” she challenged, her brow raised playfully.

He pointed to her left hand’s ring finger, where a small but clearly visible “Oscar” was designed into her mehendi.

“You’re good at this,” she said, impressed. “I asked her to make it super hard to find.”

They both laughed, and then he added, “I’ve got something for you to see, although mine isn’t as difficult to spot.”

He pulled out his palm and faced it upward, revealing the mehendi he had secretly gotten done. The design was simple but heartfelt. On his palm, Y/N’s name was written boldly and clearly, surrounded by small hearts.

She gasped at the sight, catching the attention of the rest of the table. Realizing what the matter was, everyone cheered, thoroughly enjoying how enthusiastically Oscar was partaking in their culture.

“You’re so adorable. I can’t believe you got this done—I didn’t even notice!”

“Well, you’d be surprised at how sneaky I am, darling.”

“Is that so?” she teased, grinning.

“Why yes, yes it is. Now, how about we go get some kulfi? I’ve been craving it since last night.”

She laughed, standing up and taking his hand as they walked away from the table, their laughter echoing through the festive evening.

this was my first attempt at writing smth lol, lmk your thoughts, and if you’d like me to continue with this. xoxo 🩷 (also yes i made the reader tamilian in this bc i like to shamelessly self insert haha)

[amongemeraldclouds]

starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits. 

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold. 

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky. 

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

[t-a-a-1]

More Than Meets The Eye

TFA Optimus! X F!Reader

6k

Summary: Being a rising journalist is difficult. Especially when you have to live a secret criminal life. Things get worst when you start to fall in love with your enemy, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and hero of Detroit City.

You believe the feelings can't be mutual. Yet, he slowly starts to notice that you are more than meets the eye.

A/N: Lots of yearning. Jealously. Enemies to lovers?? You are a journalist who is also a criminal. Idk. Takes place between Season 1 and 2 of TFA.

Chapter 1: Ride or Die

....

Detroit City could be ugly, nasty, unhygienic, gentrified and many other things.

But never boring.

Especially with robotic aliens patrolling the streets.

    Bots that you didn't trust fully nor liked very much.

Even more, that Optimus Prime that everyone seemed to like so much.

With his red and blue colors, his helm that looks like he is always wearing a cap and straight posture that was too authoritative for your liking.

    While everyone was excited, taking pictures of the Autobots, you were there to ask the real questions. Your job as a reporter was to tell the truth and that's what you plan to do by exposing the leader of the Autobots.

"Mr. Prime, I have a question for you."

    You raised your hand, not really sure if that matters but you wanted to keep being respectful.

"Oh, yes, how can I help you, ma'am?"

    Optimus sees you walk through the crowd of people and paparazzi. Press conferences weren't unknown to him. The citizens, the reporters, the speechless mayor and his assistant that probably did everything for him.

"I've done some research and Detroit's oil supply has plummeted since your arrival to Earth. This has created a tax increase for all of Detroit's citizens. How do you respond to this?"

"Well, we do need to eat to keep helping the city," Optimus bends down to be able to speak on the mic. "But we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused."

"If you were sorry you and your team would have already found all  the fragments of the AllSpark and departed Earth."

"How do you know about–?"

    You didn't let him finish his question as you striked with another statement.

"But no, you and the Autobots are too focused on wasting Earth's resources and playing heroes to even think of recovering your world's most powerful energy source."

"What? No, we–"

    He keeps getting interrupted by you. Although he tries to keep his cool, he wasn't in the best of moods either. Each statement you were making was ticking off his clock.

"Without mentioning that you have been spotted entering nearby natural reservation islands without the proper permissions or documentation."

"Well, yes but I thought it was fine–"

"Why would it be fine?" You look up at him. Even when you weren't very fond of the alien robots, you had to admit that they were a spectacle to look at. But you quickly shook the thought away.  "Just because you are big and dangerous you think you are entitled to cross human law?"

"Look missy, I don't know what's your problem but–"

"My problem is that you are not answering my questions."

    There's a bit of laughter coming from behind Optimus. If he had been smart enough, he could've said something along the lines of 'you aren't asking any questions, you are just saying statements.' Instead, he lashes out on you, giving you the exact reaction you wanted.

"If only you gave me time, I would respond to them!" Seeing his mistake, Optimus stands away from the pod, clearly frustrated at the situation.  "You know what, we don't have the time for this."

    Smiling Autobots was the first thing he saw as soon as he turned to look at them. He ex-vents, not wanting to deal with it.

"Autobots, transform and roll out."

.

.

.

    The abandoned building had become their home. It was big enough to have rooms for everyone. Each catering for every bot's needs. But not even the vastness of the building could sparse the leader's rising annoyance. Walking from side to side of the hangar, looking down and with a servo on his chin, he questioned the previous interaction.

    He doesn't remember seeing you before. Either that or your existence wasn't important enough for his processor to remember.

"How did that lady know about the AllSpark?" Optimus keeps walking as Bumblebee and Sari play video games on the sofa. "We haven't told anyone about the fragments."

    Hearing something being dropped, Optimus quickly turns to look at the little girl who has taken long-term residence at their base.

"Sari?" Optimus questions, getting closer to her. "Is there anything you want to say?"

"Sorry, I thought yall were going to release that information to the public soon," she plays with her thumbs, moving them in a circle in between her hands. "So, I thought, why not sell the information to a reporter? Save you guys the time!"

"Why would you do that?"

    Bumblebee questions her, he didn't know about her actions either.

"Because I need the money! If I don't have money, I can't afford food. If I don't eat, I'll die!" Sari feels threatened, especially when she sees the rest of the bots gathering around her. "And all my credit cards have been frozen ever since my dad disappeared."

    It was as if everyone had a spoken agreement. Her explanation was a very good one. Feeling shy and maybe like a burden to them, she did what any little girl would. As best as she could with the current circumstances. No one was angry at her, just worried for what this could bring to the team.

"What else have you told her?"

    Prowl asks this time, sounding as calm as ever.

"Nothing, I promise!" Sari exclaimed. "Actually, ever since I told her about my situation, she never fails to send me some money in the mail."

"Probably to gain your trust so you could later tell her more information about us," Ratchet always assumed the worst of people. A trait that no one could blame. Being a war-veteran, distrusting others was the best for survival.

"I don't think so, she just sends money. No notes, no letters, nothing."

"Whatever the situation is, we can't have her spreading misinformation about us," Bulkhead is the last to speak his mind.

"She wasn't lying, bulkhead," Optimus remembers your statements. Each of them had truth in them. "She was right. We did everything she said we did."

    As much as he wanted to reprimand the little girl, he couldn't do it. Instead he takes a few seconds to think.

"But we can't have her writing negative articles about us," he says as he takes a moment to look at his very little friend. "Especially if we plan to ask for some monetary compensation for Sari."

    He really didn't want to ask for any kind of payment from the humans. Everything he did, he did in the name of goodness and to further improve Cybertronian-Human diplomatic relationships. But Sari was part of the team and his duty as leader was to take care of everyone. And she was a helpless little girl. He needs to take care of her properly and for that he needs human currency. Not much, just whatever is needed for a human to survive. Food, maybe clothes? Water. Oxygen? Medication ... Education? Did she need that? He is not sure but maybe Sari could make him a list later.

For now, there is a reporter he needs to find.

.

.

.

    You weren't new to doing undercover work. You enjoyed it, pretending to be someone else, getting the information you needed, then going home as if you had lived another life.

    Tonight, it was one of those nights. Where you wore heels, a skirt and a revealing top. Loose hair and lip gloss and a wing to cover your real hair color.

    During the day you were a reporter. Tonight you were a car enthusiast.

"So, would you take me?"

"A beautiful car needs a beautiful woman,"

    You had been talking with a man for fifteen minutes. It's stupid how easy it was to get a man. Just listening to them talk for ten minutes straight without talking usually does the trick.

"And you know, racing is not the only thing I am good at."

    Smiling, not because of his suggestive comment but because you were about to get what you wanted, you were about to make your way inside the car.

    Until bright lights pointing at you ruined the moment.

"What does that freak want?"

    There is a loud sound of engine coming from the large truck. Although the light was bright, you could see a few shades of blue and red.

"This is the police, stand down."

"Shit."

    The man who you were talking to didn't hesitate to turn on his car and speed up. Letting off a train of fumes and leaving you behind.

    Great, now you had to explain that you weren't a hooker but an undercover reporter to the officer.

    Except that this wasn't a cop. It wasn't even a person. But a driverless car. A bot you tragically knew too well.

"So you have come for your revenge after today's press conference?" you ask sarcastically as you begin to walk away. You raised your hand and waved from side to side."Well, you got it. Now leave me alone."

    You can hear the little 'click and clack' of your heels as they impact against the concrete ground. But close by you can still hear the roaring engines. Headlights were still pretty bright and you wondered if he understood human cues. Because this just looks like some guy harassing a woman.

"Not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that guy?" Optimus follows as he drives next to you. "I thought you would be more educated."

"Well, I didn't ask you to save me," you wanted to take bigger steps but you've been walking for so long with your heels that you can't do it anymore. "Is butting into other people's business an Autobot costume?"

"Look I am not going to fall into your tactics," he says. "I just came to say that I think we started off with the wrong pede."

"Oh? Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, for starters, I think you have the wrong ideas about us," Optimus takes a closer look at you. Wearing a different style than what you wore this morning. "Yes you are right, sometimes we don't do the right thing. But we are new here and we don't know any better."

"So you should be excused for all actions just because of your ignorance?" you feel like you are being observed. Not in a desirable manner but rather a curious one. Optimus didn't have 'eyes' but optics. His vision is probably more enhanced, being a bot and all.  "Is that what you are saying?"

"No, I am saying that maybe you could try and understand us and be more ... lenient whenever you write about us."

"And why would I do that?" you began to feel self conscious. Miniskirts weren't your thing, you liked them but Optimus heavy optics on you wasn't the most comfortable. Maybe it was all your imagination. Besides, you doubted that Optimus could feel attraction towards a human. "Are you going to hurt me if I don't?"

"What? No!"

    You stop walking and suddenly turn to look at him.

"Then I won't change anything."

    He doesn't want to think about it too much but he feels his something inside him short-circuit. Now, he realized he had been staring at you for too long. Particularly interested in your skin. As far as he knows metal and skin don't react the same way to cold. Your material being more sensitive to climate change. He was studying you and all he concluded is that you were cold.

"Why do you care so much about what we do and don't? How does it even affect you?" his engines roar louder.  "We help the humans with crime, cleaning the streets, repairing buildings and other humiliating things without any type of compensation but I don't see you writing about that stuff!"

"Do you know what happens when you and your crew destroy a building?"

"The city repairs it."

"Yes, they do," you walk towards him, aggressively placing your hands on his door. His truck form was too large for you to reach his window. It's not like you were planning to punch him but rather make your point. "But who's money do they use to repair those damages?"

    He stays quiet and you proceed.

"The people's money," using your index finger, you keep poking at him each time you make a statement. "Ever since you and your Autobots got here, things have become way more expensive. Food, gas, bills. There are families who will be homeless because they can't afford to pay rent. All because the city is raising taxes to pay for all the damages you cause."

    His headlights blink every time you keep touching him, with every word that escapes your lips.

"It's already hard enough being a journalist in Detroit and now I have to focus on surviving too. I need to contribute good stories to the newsroom or I won't even have money to buy cigarettes."

    Then, you point off into the distance, the road is clear but dark. Only the city lights illuminated the path but everything had an eerie feel to it .

"And that guy you just scared off? He was my ticket to have a warm meal tonight and you ruined it for me."

    You take your hands off him. His headlights stop blinking.

"So, I am sorry. I am sorry I won't write about how the Autobots are Detroit's heroes and how good they are because they pick up some cans."

    You walk away. Now thinking of whether to spend your last $20 bucks on food or a taxi to take you home.

    At least you can't hear the roaring engine anymore.

As he sees you struggle to keep walking, Optimus notices your shivering. How you tried to cover your backside with your bag and how ever so often your stomach would quietly growl. Although he wasn't an expert on human biology, he knew that meant you were hungry.

    He remembers your words and then Sari's. Although you were struggling to survive, you still somehow managed to help out Sari. A job he is supposed to be doing but failing miserably.

"I– " he drives up to you again. For a second, he doesn't have anything to say. Apologizing won't help you in any way. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Well, unless you can transform into a racing car and take me to do some illegal car racing, I don't think so."

    Behind you, you hear metal shifting. Driving next to you is blue and red ... Corvette? Camaro? Ferrari? You didn't know a single thing about cars but the only thing you knew is that it was a nice looking car. Dynamic, elegant and shiny. Hot and sexy. And a beautiful car needs a beautiful girl.

"Anything else?"

.

.

.

    It was 3 a.m.

A dark and isolated road on the outskirts of Detroit will be witness to your first car racing. You didn't know a single thing about cars and much less racing. But thankfully for you, your racer is a car. He should know better ... right?

    As a reporter you are supposed to blend in with the crow but with Optimus, you knew that was impossible. All eyes were on you as soon as you drove by the starting line. Wondering who had just joined the car racing scene.

"Everyone is here ... Can't we just arrest them?"

"No, I am not the police.  I am just here to report on things. To inform people this is happening."

You look around the vehicle, there was technology that Earth didn't have. There wasn't a single thing you could understand. Getting nervous, you tried to get some fresh air. Clicking a few random buttons, you hear Optimus make a few displeased growls.

"Would you stop that? You know you are touching my body, right?"

    You quickly stop, not knowing how to feel about being inside a mechanic alien.

"Can you lower the windows then? I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic."

    Optimus does as you told him and now you get a clearer view of your sides. To your right there is a white Camaro with black racing stripes. To your left, a red and white car. The fancy type which brand you didn't know nor care.

"Hey beautiful, when I win let's make out in the back of my car!"

    Hearing that comment, you tell Optimus to roll up the windows again. He quickly didn't hesitate to ask questions.

"What is make out?"

    You see another woman stand in front of the car. Holding a red handkerchief. Extremely beautiful and thin, she made walking in heels look easy. The cars start their engines and you start regretting this.

"If we win this, I'll show you."

"What do we get if we win anyway?"

    Looking at the steering wheel, you think about holding it but then again Optimus seems very decided for you not to touch him. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you shake the thought off your head.

"I get a good story and three thousand dollars."

"Can I have some of that money? For Sari, of course."

"Absolutely but," you look around the car, trying to look for the seatbelt. The race was about to start and you couldn't find it. "Where is the seat-"

    But the race had started, Optimus didn't listen as he sped though the road. You abruptly lay back on the seat. Making mental notes about the situation. The racers, the rules, the cars, the place.

You wished you could enjoy the excitement of the race ... if it only wasn't that your life was held by a threat.

As Optimus makes an abrupt turn, you move from one seat to the other. Almost doing a complete 360.    

"Would you care to drive more carefully?!"

    You rub your head. Feeling like a small bump on the back, you are thankful the windows are tinted dark. No one can see your humiliating falling and bumping into Optimus windows and door.

"Don't you want to win, missy?"

"I can only win if I get to the finishing line ALIVE!"

    As if he wasn't hearing you, he makes another aggressive movement. This time you end up side down, with your head on the feet rest and your legs on the passenger seat.

"THAT'S IT! I AM DRIVING!"

    You straighten up and quickly put your hands on the steering wheel, taking control of the alien mech.

"Hey, missy! Hands off the steering wheel!!"

"I'll do that when you learn how to drive!"

    You fought against his strength, as he moved himself to the opposite side. It wasn't often that you fought against an alien but if your life wasn't in danger you wouldn't do so. Watching all the cars passing by was also alarming, you weren't only going to die but also lose.

"I'll have you know my driving skills have been renowned by the Elite Guard!"

"I don't give a f–"

    He lost control, as you did. The screeching tires against the pavement could be heard as the rubber of them burned. You couldn't react as Optimus crashes against a pine tree. Hitting your head against the steering wheel, you thought you might get a concussion. However, you get enough strength to get out of the car and walk a few meters away from him. It wasn't until all the racing cars had passed you that Optimus transformed back to his robot form.

"I just got a new paint job and a polish!"

    He says as he sees some scratches on his body.

"And you almost killed me!" you put a hand on your head, it hurts as if your whole brain was pulsating. Your sight is dizzy and your body is weak. "I knew it, I knew this wouldn't work out and I still trusted you."

"We wouldn't be here if you had only kept your hands to yourself."

"No, we wouldn't be here if only you had a goddamn seatbelt?!"

    Optimus was also frustrated with the situation. Now he is too far behind to win the race and he needed the money to buy food for Sari. Not only that but after tonight he is going to have to give explanations to the rest of his team. He is probably gonna be made fun of for not having a 'leader-behavior' and they were right. Because why was he here? At first, he just wanted to help you. But it seems you don't want to nor appreciate his effort.

"And why would I? I don't let humans inside me," he points at you, unaware of your delicate state.  "Besides it's not my fault your body is so weak."

"Well, for someone who is supposed to protect life, you certainly do a great," there is clear sarcasm in your voice. You probably shouldn't be fighting against a giant robot but if he were to squish you right now, he would be doing you a favor.

"I don't even know why you are on Earth if you don't even like humans."

"Oh, I like humans, I just don't like you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual."

    You take off your heels and start walking back on the cold pavement. Feeling cold everywhere, you wonder what is going to kill you first. Hypothermia or brain damage.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"We are on the outskirts of the city, you'll get home by the next solar cycle if you walk."

    As much as Optimus dislikes you, he wouldn't let a lady walk alone at night.

"Let me take you home."

"No," now it hurts to breathe. You probably got a few injuries but you tried to hide the pain. The last thing you wanted was to confirm Prime's idea that you were weak. You were, but he didn't have to know. "Just leave me alone."

"Does your pride have no end?" Optimus' words weren't helping either. "Just come inside–"

    He was going to keep talking until he noticed that you had stopped walking. He sees you put a hand on your head and the other on your stomach.

    Suddenly, you lose balance and he quickly reaches a servo out to catch you. He had assumed that most humans should be warm. The coldness of your body was not common. Analyzing you, he sees that you are still breathing but unconscious. You are small on his servo and he feels as though he needs to cover you.

Maybe, you were right ... he should have let you drive.

.

.

.

    There were many questions in Ratchet's processor. But seeing Optimus' worried face restrained his voice box from instigating the Prime.

"I am not an expert in human biology but my analysis says that she is dehydrated and malnourished. She probably hasn't eaten in days."

    Ratchet sees you in the medical berth. In a deep sleep and weakend, he doesn't know when you will wake up.

"Don't you think it would have been better to take her to a human medical center?"

"I thought about it but while I was driving, she woke up momentarily and asked me not to take her there."

    Optimus had assumed that the reason you didn't want to go to a 'hospital' was due that maybe you didn't have a means to pay for it. The thought alone made him spark ache, he didn't understand why humans would charge for a basic right.

"Well then, make yourself useful and bring her some warm human fuel," Ratchet says. "And maybe some human clothes with more fabric or a blanket."

    Optimus nods, but there is hesitancy. He doesn't move and Ratchet catches on this. His optics are on you as if studying you. Most obvious, there is guilt and worry. He takes a closer look at him. Some part of his paint was ripped off and his metal was scratched.

"Did anything of importance happen?"

"I tried to help her with something but things didn't occur as I planned them."

    There was something he was keeping to himself.

"Did anything else happen?"

"It's just ...," he pauses and the longer he looks at you, the more Ratchet wonders. He has known the boy for some time now. He has seen him at his best and at his worst but this is different. It's like he wants to say or do  something but he can't. Either because he is too timid or because he can't find the right words. But Optimus' eloquence was known through all of Cybertron.

"It's nothing."

.

.

.

    The smell of chicken noodle soup wakes up. It is an unknown place but you feel warm. Much more than your cold, small apartment. It was a bright room, and underneath was a red, giant medical bed. A white blanket covers your body and the face of a little girl stares right at you.

"Hi!"

    You slowly stand up, your head still hurting but at least you were alive.

"Hey, kid."

    You take a better look at the place around you. At least it wasn't a hospital and for that you were thankful.

"I am Sari! And you must be (Y/N)? We exchanged Autobot information before?"

    The girl was smiling, excited to see you. By hearing her name, you immediately knew what she was referring to. A few weeks ago, you had received a letter from someone, you assumed that it was a kid due to the wacky handwriting and simple vocabulary. Nonetheless, this kid was selling Autobot information to you, some things valuable, others not so much. After learning the truth behind the kid, you decided to help her as much as you could.

"I am guessing this is the secret base of the Autobots?"

    You ask the obvious. You didn't find any other logical explanation as to why there would be such big beds and medical equipment.

"Yeah ... Please, don't tell anyone," Sari says. "Or Optimus is gonna have to threaten you."

"Well, I would like to see him try," you give the little girl a head pat. "But I promise I won't say a word, just because you ask me to."

    This would have been valuable information if it wasn't due that it didn't matter anymore. You were supposed to have a story by today and the only thing you have is a headache. Another day, another non-existent payment. You are gonna have to get used to eating air at this point.

"You should eat," Sari puts the bowl of soup closer to you. "Optimus made it for you and I helped, of course."

    After hearing his name, you quickly turn to look at the little girl. You could tell she was telling the truth but she also had a mischievous smile.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"   

    You weren't about to make a meal go to waste. Picking up the spoon, you start to dig in. It wasn't bad and you wonder if Optimus actually helped at all because you can't imagine someone who is unable to taste human food, being able to make something this good.

"Well, I was wondering ... Will you be staying with us from now on?"

"No," you simply say, too concentrated in eating to think properly. "Why are you asking that?"

"Well, do you want to?"

"Thanks for the offer but I don't think the Autobots would like me here."

"But I can get so lonely sometimes!" Sari puts puppy eyes on her face and you have to admit that it was slowly working. "I need a friend."

"You can still write to me if you would like."

"That's not enough ..."

    Suddenly, you heard loud and big steps approaching from behind you. You didn't want to think about it. If you don't see it, it's not real. But then you hear mechanics moving and you are sure that if you were to turn around, you'll find a very unpleasant faceplate.

"Sari, do not overwhelm our guests," Optimus says. "She's still recovering."

"Don't mind me, I was just leaving."

    Like an animal, you drink the last of your soup and put it next to you.

"Hey um ... About last night, I ..." He pauses and struggles with his words. "I wanted to apologize–"

"No need."

    You stand up and let the white blanket covering you slip off your body. It gets cold immediately and you are tempted to ask if you can stay with the blanket.

"Wait! If you really need to, you can stay here,"

"And become your charity project? No, thank you."

    His faceplate was still very close to yours. Now you can take a closer look at his optics.  You didn't want to admit it but they were quite beautiful. A type of blue not found on Earth. Maybe not even in the entire universe. It was unique to him and you were a bit jealous of his own individuality.

"I am just trying to help."

"I think you have helped enough," you weren't about to fall for his kindness. It was his own stubbornness that put you in this situation. That and that you haven't taken care of yourself properly but he doesn't have to know that. "If I let you help me again, then I'll for sure die."

"If only you would put your pride away, we could help each other–"

"You want to help me? Why? Because you like me? Or to subside your guilt?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do?"  You can't stand his righteousness. Pretending to be this all-good creature when you know that can't be. How good can he be when he is the cause of your misfortunes? Not only yours but to a lot of more people. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't seem to want to do anything about it. "Why don't you start by leaving my planet first then?"

    Optimus stares at you and you look back at him. It was a few seconds but to you it lasted minutes.

    He doesn't say anything but slowly moves apart from you and walks away.

You turn to look at Sari who was still sitting close by.

"Sorry you had to see that kid."

"It's alright, but can I tell you something?"

    You didn't want to be here. The sun was probably about to rise and you just wanted to go home. But you couldn't say no to the girl, she seemed too sweet and her situation was still lamentable. You nod, confirming for Sari to continue.

"I've known Optimus for a time now and I can tell you that he is not very well-versed with the ladies," she says.  "He rescued a woman once and she asked for his phone number."

    Tilting you heard, a lot of things crossed your mind. You have so many questions, especially about the kind of woman who would want a machine as something more than a friend.

"And what happened?"

"He gave it to her and she texted him," she raised a small hand, pointing up. "The text said 'Do you think I am pretty?"

"And Optimus texted back saying 'I think you look soft and squeezable. And she never texted back."

    You stopped yourself from laughing. Although a small smile left your lips. You look away for a second and then look back at the young girl.

"Optimus is good at hiding his feelings but you can tell he was sad she never texted him back."

"Why are you telling me this?"

    You finally ask, curious about the story but mostly about Sari's intentions.

"Just so you know that he can be an idiot sometimes but he has a good heart ... Well, spark," Sari's voice becomes more gentle and this caught your attention. This wasn't supposed to be a funny story and now you feel a bit shameful for laughing.

"And I think he just doesn't know how to tell you that."

.

.

.

The sun was starting to come out.

You took off your heels for a little bit until the cold pavement was too much to handle for your skin.

    You weren't expecting for things to go this way. Wanting to start a new life, away from everything. It was all going smoothly until they arrived. Now you find yourself on a bench, cold and hungry. Waiting for the first bus to take you home.

How much longer did you have to endure?

    You cover your face, ashamed of yourself. Of every decision you have made in your life. This is your reality now. About to be kicked out of your apartment, without a stable job and nowhere to go. No one to talk to.

Your cellphone rings.

    Not recognizing the phone number on the screen, you were hesitant to answer but lastly, you picked it up, things can't get worse anyways.

"It was harder to get a hold of you than I thought."

You recognized that voice.

"But I am glad you are doing fine. How's the city life treating you?"

"How did you find me?"

    You ask as you look around you. No one was out yet. Just a few cars passed by and the tweets of birds could be heard.

"That doesn't matter. I called thinking you may be interested in a job."

"I am not. No matter what you say, I won't go back there."

"Are you sure? I can send you over the first half of the payment right now."

You were in desperate need. He knows that and is taking advantage of that. Your instincts  were begging you to say yes. To just do one more job, to get enough food to survive for a little while until you can get back on your feet. But ...

"I appreciate the offer. But I have to decline."

    There is a long pause.

"We'll keep in touch."

.

.

.

"Still thinking about that woman?"

    When Ratchet says things like that, it's difficult not to notice the subtle hits in his voice box.

"Perhaps."

    Ratchet can tell many things from the Prime's actions. He wasn't drinking his fuel and in deep thought. At least he wasn't denying the question.

"I am sure you'll see her again," Ratchet says as he pat's Optimus' shoulder plate. "Next time ask for her number."

"It's not like that."

    His cheeks have a slight blue. Very minimal but Ratchet knows better than that.

It was a lively evening in the Autobot's base. With Bumblebee and Sari playing video games while Prowl and Bulkhead stand next to them. Optimus and Ratchet usually watch from the sidelines, never participating but just treasuring the tranquility of the moment.

"If it's not that then what is it?"

"I just ..."

    Optimus hesitates not because he didn't want to tell Ratchet but because he couldn't understand his own feelings. Was it guilt? Curiosity? It's strange and yet both emotions are something he wishes to not feel. He should be worrying about the things he can fix, people he can help.

He shouldn't think about you.

About yesterday night. About the drive back to the base. You laid on his seat, unconscious. Yet you mustered the strength to say three simple words.

"Don't leave me."

And just like that. His spark ached.

Damn you.

    He doesn't have time for this. For all he cares, he hopes to never see you again.

Because how dare you play with his feelings like that?

"I'm going for a drive."

    There was nothing else to do but ride or die.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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A/N: Here is a new story I am working on. It was really fun to write this. Thank you for all the support you have given me this far! I'll continue to write. For any ideas, comments, concerns, comments you can always message me/or inbox me here. Thank you. Also sorry for any mistakes I made. I don't proof read. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and I'll be answering comments soon!

See you in the next story!

Next:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/772695486936301568/more-than-meets-the-eye?source=share

[pixie-felix]

word count: 1.7k genre: fluff and (hopefully) comfort. content warning: big hugs. everywhere. (you said Chan's big hugs calm you, so I decided to make gifs... I may have gone a tad overboard...) request: Hi. I've never actually made a request before, do I feel a bit anxious, sorry. I had an idea, nothing crazy, but... how would each of the members comfort you and make you forget all the bad stuff that gets stuck in your mind? What would they do to get you out of your head and lost to the world instead? Sorry again, it's been a really difficult day, and I had a comforting dream where Felix gave me a hug and said it would all be okay, and I got the idea? It okay if you don't feel like writing it. You are fabulous and appreciated! Have a good day! <3

a/n: This is for the lovely @kittenchaos2024, who is an absolute delight of a human. Or perhaps three very sweet raccoonsin a long coat and fancy hat. Either way, I love them lots and I hope the world brings them something good soon.  I tried to write these on the blurry line* between platonic and romantic so you can interpret them as you wish… let me know how I did? *Except Felix. Felix is supposed to be romace-y-ish.

S L O W D O W N, J E L L Y B E A N

Chan The first thing Chan is going to do, is give you a Big Hug™.

He’s going to notice before anyone else, not just because he’s a single father of seven kids, but because he cares about you so much. Maybe you’ve been more withdrawn than usual, spacing out when usually you’d be giggling at Han’s jokes and Changbin’s aegyo.

He'll quietly keep an eye on you, subtly trying to comfort you without directly saying anything. Things like bringing you a glass of water (he was getting one for himself anyway, and he has two hands) or resting his hand on your arm for a moment longer than usual.

If it's clear you're really not okay, if you look at him with eyes that say anything close to "help", everything else is going on the back burner until you're okay again.

He won't make a scene. He knows you don't want the stress of everyone's attention. He’ll probably wait until you’re alone, before looking at you with his worried half smile and tentatively holding his arms out. “Big hug?”

He’ll hug you for as long as you’d like, and if you have a breakdown and cry he will just hug you tighter (if you’re cool with that. Making sure he’s not pushing your boundaries is important to him.) Oh, and if you apologise for ruining his shirt he's going to give you his best Dad Eyes™, before pulling you closer and resting his chin on the top of your head.

If you’re really struggling, he’ll let you sleep in his bed, or he’ll  come and sit next to yours and sing you lullabies until you go to sleep. And he'll still be there in the morning, working on his laptop with his headphones on and a gentle smile for you when you wake up.  

Lino. Obviously Lino could make you soup. 

But you know what’s better than soup, especially when you’re all stuck in your head? Kittens. 

He is absolutely sneaking at least one of Soonie, Doongie, and/or Dori into your apartment. In one of those cute little backpacks that look like a spaceship. 

If you’re allergic to cats, instead of bringing into contact with a real feline he will prepare a slide show of his cats, making sure to include their silliest antics. He’ll even put silly music over the top, and add in a couple of ridiculously cute/stupid selfies to cheer you up.

If you can’t have animals in your apartment, or you just need to go outside for a bit… He’ll take you to a cat cafe (yes there is a theme here and the theme is cats). 

He’ll make it into the most thoughtful date you’ve ever been on (platonic or otherwise, depending on your feelings). You’re not paying for anything, you don’t even have to talk to anyone you don’t want. You can just sit there and let Lino coax some kitties over, while you munch on the cat-shaped cookies he got Felix to bake for you.

(He will also make you soup.)

Changbin. I hope you’re prepared for aegyo. Like, an egregious amount of aegyo.

He’ll even skip the gym for you, claiming he’s too sore to work out today. (You’ve literally seen him go to the gym with a sprained elbow, he just did legs for a whole week.)

Then he’s going to barge into your room with snacks and chick flicks, making you close your eyes while he builds you a pillow fort (complete with fairy lights). He’s not taking no for an answer, the two of you are going to have a girly day even if he has to put you in a headlock for it.

He will also throw pillows at anyone who dares interrupt. Spare ones he brought specifically for this purpose, he’s not damaging the integrity of your pillow fort. This is your Binnie time, and the others can wait their turn.

He will be re-enacting the confession scenes from all your favourite rom coms. With added aegyo, of course.

Hyunjin. It’s a good thing Hyunjin’s not dramatic. Because then he’d probably do something completely over the top. 

Oh, wait.

He knows you’re probably too stressed to go outside, so instead he plies you with snacks and loads up your comfort show on his laptop (he’s not even mad that it’s not SKZ code), and then makes you pinky promise not to leave your room until he comes back.

He is gone for a suspiciously long time.

When he finally comes to get you, he’s all glowy and excited. But as he leads you into the living room, he almost looks… nervous? 

What you see when you get there takes your breath away.

He’s made you a whole art gallery. It’s a mix of your favourite pictures and sculptures, including some you’ve never seen before that remind him of you, complete with a little hand drawn map and guidebook. He gets really shy about it as you look around, feeling a bit self conscious when you get to the paintings he painted just for you.

He lights up like the adorable idiot he is when he sees you like it.

Han. More than anyone else, Han understands what it’s like to get stuck in your head.

Are you overthinking again? He’s here to talk you through it. He’ll be gentle with it, and he’ll never press you on anything. He’ll just sit there, cuddling you if you want it, and wait/

You need to cry? Great, Han needs to cry too.

You’re panicking? He’s right there, talking you through how to breathe again, as he rubs your back and holds your hand. 

And while he’s doing these thoughtful things, he’s going to say dumb, sweet nonsense to try and make you laugh. Like “slow down, jellybean.” That one makes you laugh, and from that day forward Han always has a stash of emergency jellybeans for times when you’re feeling sad. 

He won’t say anything, he’ll just slip them into your hand when no one else is looking, or leave them on your pillow while you’re out at work.

Felix. We all know Felix loves physical affection. Really, he’s basically a koala.

Even when you’re not feeling down, Felix jumps at any chance to cuddle you. You’re making breakfast? He’s hugging you from behind. Watching TV? He’s pulling you into his arms, or resting his head on your lap. You try to go to bed without giving him his fifteen minute goodnight cuddle? I hope you’re prepared to be pouted at in the morning. 

And that’s just normal, every day Felix. If you look even the slightest bit sad? Man’s turning it up to eleven. 

The thing that worries him the most is that he can’t always be physically there for you when you get sad. Sometimes his schedule is so busy he barely gets to see you, leaving so early in the morning the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and not coming home until the clock is almost in single digits again.

In times like those, best he’s sneaking into your bed every night. Not even in a sexual way, he just needs to be close to you. (Though there are definitely some sneaky kisses pressed to your shoulders while he thinks you’re still asleep.

What’s been worrying him is, how he’s going to cheer you up when you’re alone? Tour starts soon, and you can’t exactly come with him.

And then it hits him. Epiphany. His best idea yet (even better than flashing his abs at Lolla). The most brilliant solutions in the history of solutions: 

Emotional Support Koala. For you to cuddle when times get tough.

He has the biggest sunshine smile when he gives you the plushie, excitedly telling you how Emergence Support Koala is microwave safe, so you can warm him up and have cozy cuddles! And Emergency Support Koala came in a pair, so Felix has his gf to take on tour with him. Who doesn’t love matching plushies? (Yeah, If Felix hasn’t confessed to you yet, he’s going to do it soon. Probably with some kind of Koala plushie puppet show.)

However, his brilliant plan is going to backfire slightly. Felix didn’t realise it was possible to be jealous of a plushie. But when he’s on tour and you guys video call, and you’re in your pajamas cuddling Emergency Support Koala, he can’t help but pout a little.

Guess you’ll just have to give him extra attention when he comes home. Oh, how awful.

Seungmin. Seungmin is in the building, and he’s determined to get you outside.

You don’t have to go far, and he’ll hold your hand the whole time, but he’s taking you outside whether you like it or not. You’re getting that sunlight serotonin boost.

You might be nervous at first, but the warm pressure of Seungmin’s hand in yours and the way he wraps you up in his jacket (he brought a spare with him, knowing you’d forget) help calm you down.

You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, you can just walk. He’s got an idea of where you’re going anyway. The bag of birdseed should be a hint.

You can’t be sad while you’re feeding the ducks, right?

I.N. Innie might not say much, but he’ll come and cuddle you. 

Despite his recent slightly slutty, ab flashing behaviour on stage (the side effects of living with Christopher), he’s still a little shy around you. He is still a baby bread, after all.

But you haven’t come out of your room all day, and he’s worried about you. He wants to come and check in on you, but he doesn’t want to invade your personal space. He’ll probably have to psych himself up a few times, sitting on the living room couch, planning what he’s going to say to you.

Of course his carefully prepared words promptly evaporate when you come out and sit next to him on the couch. But that’s okay, because now he doesn’t have to say anything when you lean against him

The hyungs always want to hug him, so it must cheer you up too right? He’ll even let you squish his cheeks if you want.

Okay, so that's my best attempt at fluffy silly stuff. Just in case it sucked, here is a cute video of Felix:

You can get your own Emergency Support Koala here. I know that sounds like an ad, but it's not. I just found them while I was looking for inspiration and I thought they were super cute.

taglist (sorry it's not smut, lemme know if you just want the smuts): @ghostof2024 @sthaay @bluesungology @chrizzztopherbang @avnche @kemkem33 @mikaelless @lvrgrl-xo @eevenus @furioussheepluminary @sheerfreesia007 @aasthamoon @amazinglystay @delulustardust @galaxy4489 @lil-bear08 @abby-loves-aphrodite taglist is open, but I mostly write smut so don't follow if you just want cute sfw things 🫶

m.list

[roanofarcc]

TO THE POINT

pairing: trevor lefkowtiz x ghost!reader (requested)

summary:  you were an unexpected change of events, not interested in playing a game of cat and mouse with trevor, but rather being forward with him. you completely threw off his game, and he loved it.

warnings: gen!reader, confident!reader. trevor is a flirt but also a bit of a loser (affectionate)

word count. 900 | masterlist

You were a breath of fresh air in Woodstone for a myriad of reasons. For Trevor, you were an exciting, new endeavor. It had been quite some time since he had someone to flirt with, and who could possibly return his affections. Of course, he didn’t expect you to do that right away; he had a system, a step-by-step plan to woo whoever caught his eye. 

This plan was slow, dropping subtle hints and compliments. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the time to slowly get you to find the same kind of affection in him. 

As you sauntered into the living room, Trevor readied to set his plan in motion. He straightened his suit jacket and ran a hand through his hair before he approached you with a smile. “Good morning,” he greeted. 

You regarded him with a smile as well. “Good morning.” 

Trevor was about to ask you what your plans for the day were, so he could find a way to weave himself into them, which wouldn’t be too difficult considering you both were stuck on the Woodstone property together. But before he could, you eyed him with a certain glint in your eyes that he couldn’t pinpoint. You often carried yourself with a confidence that Trevor found ridiculously attractive. You were never one to back down from a hard conversation or to say what was on your mind, but with a certain grace that didn’t cross any lines or make overs overly uncomfortable. You were kind, caring, and very straightforward. 

“What are you doing today?” you asked him, throwing off his plan to ask you. He stumbled a little before clearing his throat and shrugging his shoulders as casually as he could muster. 

“Besides the usual lingering and haunting, not much,” he joked, but it was wrapped in realness. There weren’t too many options for them to do in the afterlife besides follow around any livings inside the house or bother each other. 

You cracked a smile, and Trevor tried to hide the giddiness he felt. Making you smile made him feel triumphant, even if it wasn’t too difficult a feat. He felt like some lovesick high schooler, completely wrapped up in his admiration of you. Which was why he wanted to be careful about how he approached you, leaving breadcrumbs of his desire to be more than friends with you because he couldn’t stand the thought of scaring you off or ruining his chances with you. Of course, if you weren’t interested, he’d figure that out and put his energy towards being your friend. He just didn’t want to make things weird and lose you. 

Sass told him he was overthinking it, majorly. He said Trevor should match your energy, be straightforward and to the point, but Trevor wasn’t the best at dealing with rejection. He had experienced his fair share of it, and it majorly deflated his ego. It didn’t make him angry, just bummed and like he’d never find himself in a more serious relationship. And if he was rejected by you outright, it would be like losing his chance and someone he cared a lot about. 

So yeah, Trevor was probably overthinking it, but it was because he cared a lot, like, a lot. 

You hummed in response, your body language unwavering. You hardly ever seemed nervous, the opposite of Trevor. Sure, he could hide it better than most, but his insides felt twisted in knots when he got that way, especially when he was around you. 

“Well, I’m not doing anything either, after watching Jay cook breakfast, obviously.” 

Trevor laughed lightly. “Obviously. It’s pancake Friday.” While they couldn’t eat, the ghosts never missed hanging out in the kitchen while Jay whipped up some of the best-smelling food. 

“What if we take a walk later?” you suggested. 

That wasn’t an unheard of thing for one of you to suggest. You’d both gone on walks before. Still, nerves twisted in Trevor’s stomach, but the good kind of nerves. Butterflies maybe were a better word for it. 

“Sure,” he said, faking casualness in his tone. 

You offered him a nod before saying, “Cool. It’s a date then.” 

Trevor’s brain short-circuited as you started to walk away. He blinked and shook his head before his feet moved without much aid from his brain. “W-Wait. A date?” 

You stopped walking, tossing him a funny look over your shoulder. “Yeah. A date.” 

“But like a date-date or just, uh, a date?” 

Your face scrunched up in mild confusion and amusement. “Are those not the same thing?” 

“No, I just mean…like…because a date would be-” Trevor stumbled over his words, mentally cursing at his sudden inability to form a coherent thought. He was supposed to be smoother than that, but you threw him off balance. 

You turned around and took a couple of steps closer to him. “I want to go on a date-date with you,” you said so clearly, an earnestness in your eyes. “You don’t have to say yes if you want to.” 

Maybe he was dreaming because if he wasn’t, you had completely run over his plan and skipped right to Trevor’s endgame. He couldn’t fully wrap his head around it; you wanted to go on a date with him? Why was it so easy for you to just ask? It was mesmerizing. You were so sure of yourself. 

“So…” you trailed off, and he realized he’d been silent for an awkwardly long amount of time. Quickly, he shook himself out of his daze. 

“I do! I mean, sure. Yeah. Totally.” 

You laughed lightly as Trevor hung his head in utter embarrassment. 

“Good,” you said. “Then it’s a date.” 

Despite his embarrassment, Trevor couldn’t help but beam at your words. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. To hell with his plan. 

“It’s a date.”