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mclarenviolet · 1 year ago

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Sunlight

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Reference to past trauma, just a lovesick vampire sharing his feelings 💘

WC: 400+

A/N: Inspired by @lokasxnna and Sunlight by Hozier, you can find the moodboard here ☀️ I truly could spend eternity writing soft/tender moments for this man 🥺

Astarion's steps fall softly upon the forest floor, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead casting patterns on the ground. You walk beside him in quiet companionship, the two of you navigating the winding paths with ease whilst the others keep pace a few dozen yards ahead. With every step, the tension in his shoulders seems to loosen, as if the gentle embrace of the ancient forest has a soothing effect on him.

After a while, Astarion's voice breaks through the peaceful silence, lacking it's usual sardonic edge. "I've missed this.", his sharp eyes glancing towards the canopy above.

"Missed what?" you inquire with genuine curiousity.

"The sunlight," he admits, a hint of nostalgia threading his words. "I spent two centuries trapped in darkness, unable to bear the sun's touch. It's... odd how something so simple, something mortals often take for granted, could be a luxury I yearned for so desperately."

You nod, allowing him to continue. His words seem to flow like a long-held secret finally being unburdened.

"The memories of honeyed rays, of warmth on my skin, they taunted me endlessly whilst I remained under Cazador's influence," Astarion confesses, his voice carrying a vulnerability rarely heard from the elegant vampire. "But now, thanks to this accursed tadpole, I can finally feel it again. The sensation of sunlight on my face, the way it warms my skin, it feels as if I've been given a second chance."

A soft smile touches your lips as you listen, understanding the weight of his words. The forest around you seems to echo his sentiments, the gentle rustling of leaves like a symphony of empathy.

Astarion glances at you, his expression revealing a depth of emotion he rarely allows himself to show. "I'm glad you're here with me," he admits, his crimson eyes meeting yours. "Being able to share this newfound freedom with you, it's something I never imagined possible."

The two of you walk on, the breeze ruffling your hair and carrying Astarion's words through the air. With every step, the forest seems to come alive, embracing both of you in its tranquility and allowing Astarion to rediscover a part of himself he thought he had lost forever.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm golden hue across the landscape, Astarion's fingers brush against yours, a silent reassurance that he cherishes this moment. He can't help but find himself hoping that one day he'll gather the courage to tell you just how much he cherishes every moment he spends with you. You both find solace in each other's company amidst the whispering leaves and glowing sunset, basking in the light that had eluded Astarion for far too long.

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading! The comments/tags you've left on my other Astarion fics have left me smiling like a fool, appreciate all the love and support 😭💕

#I just want him to be happy 🥺#so I will keep writing soft moments between him and reader/tav until I die 😌#astarion #astarion x gn!reader #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate iii

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dreamlandcreations · 8 months ago

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Imagine that Dune is a virtual reality game...

• Feyd-Rautha masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

Imagine that Dune is a virtual reality game in the future, where you meet Feyd, a player who doesn't know he is a player.

You hacked yourself into a restricted "era" of the game, an earlier concept that was abandoned but for some reason kept running after almost two decades. This was also the last version where you could be someone other than a random character, becoming main characters of the story was not an option anymore.

So when you meet the infamous na-Baron you don't even think that there could be a living player behind the character. Not at first.

You realise he doesn't know this is a game and you look for him in the real world, only to find out that he accidently got lost in it as a very young child. Unfortunately, when they finally found him in the game he was already under the Baron character's influence. They couldn't get him out.

It is your turn to try.

Will he accept your help? The truth? Would he even want to (or be capable to) live in the normal world after all this? Would he let you leave him?

• Taglist •

#feyd #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha imagine #my stuff #my fics

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hippolotamus · 7 months ago

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Sentence Sunday ✨

I can show you lies 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks 'Cause I can do it with a broken heart

Beloved mutuals and pocket pals... I honestly don't know what to say for myself. This is a case of 'I listened to a song too much, I had an idea I knew I was never gonna write' turned 'I'll just throw it out as a prompt' --> 'I'll just make a moodboard' --> 'Oh god, I've written over 1k words in place of a summary'. SO. Have... whatever this is, T Swift influenced Buddie actor au. Under the cut to save your dash.

Honestly, if the world still exists in the morning, Eddie Diaz doesn't really give a fuck. His girlfriend left, claiming he's still not over his late wife, and his teenage son, the last thread connecting him to said wife, went to go live with his grandparents. After, of course, blaming Eddie for pushing 'yet another one' away. Christopher wouldn't even look at him before he went.

Then there's Anita Mills, his agent, who is probably a few blood pressure points away from a stroke at this point. Assuming she doesn't fire him first.

Let her, he thinks, grabbing a bottle of Maker's Mark from the cabinet. He has a string of blockbuster films to his name, not to mention a commendable collection of Oscar's and Emmy's. Not that they made his parents proud or kept his wife from leaving him before she died. But they exist as proof that he's had a successful career. Between investments and liquid assets he has more money than he would know what to do with in a hundred lifetimes. So, fuck it.

Eddie breaks the wax seal and twists off the red cap. He doesn't even bother with a glass, not really seeing a need. He's never been a big drinker, but lately his tolerance has grown considerably. Indulging until he passes out seems like an ideal use of his time right now anyway. If he wakes up after? Well, he'll consider that a success.

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

"Hey! What the hell?!" Eddie manages, coughing and trying not to choke on the ice cold water hitting his body. He opens his eyes to see Mills towering over him, glowering and holding an empty vase. He swipes a hand across his face. "Seriously, Anita, what the fuck was that?"

"I don't know, Eddie, you tell me." She disappears for less than a minute, returning with a hand towel she unceremoniously drops on his chest. "Help me out here. What's today?"

He wriggles himself to something resembling sitting and leans back against the coffee table. "What's today?" He parrots back dumbly.

Anita crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. "I asked you first."

Today, today, today. Where was he supposed to be- "Shit! The interview with, uh, fuck." He snaps his fingers and racks his brain trying to remember a name or a face. All he knows is they're important.

"Claudette Collins. Very good, Eddie, you got it part way."

"Give me ten minutes, I'll put myself together and we can go," he says, fighting the violent wave of nausea that hits as he scrambles to stand up.

"Save your poor carpet from getting puked on and sit the hell down."

"What? No, I can-"

"Eddie," Anita interjects, "the interview was five hours ago. The interview with the Claudette Collins. The one that took me months of phone calls, groveling and cashing in favors to get for you."

Fuck. "Anita, I'm so sorry. How-"

"Save it." Anita holds her hand up, effectively silencing him. It takes him back to being seven years old and having to explain why his dad's truck had an enormous dent in it. She rests her hands on her hips, pacing back and forth as she purses her lips. Eventually she sits in the leather armchair situated in the corner. "Eddie, you and I have known each other a long time. A long time. I've been your agent since you walked into my shitty office back in Dallas. Given your impressive display of awards, I'd say we've done pretty well together."

She inhales sharply, rubbing at her temple. Anita doesn't mince words, it's part of why he's always liked her. He never has to question where he stands. She says 'jump' and he knows exactly how high. It's not difficult to guess what's coming next.

"Eddie, I know you're going through a rough patch. What you're dealing with is hard enough without seeing it splashed on every tabloid and trashy website. Not to mention none of those places knows the real story, so it's all a bunch of 'she said he might have said' bullshit. But you've made it through tougher things." Anita doesn't need to clarify that she's talking about Shannon's death and how his parents tried to take Christopher. "I don't know what's happening this time, but I need to take a step back. My wife has made it very clear that all of my attempts at stress management are not working and that if I can't get it under control I shouldn't be surprised when I come home to an empty house. So."

Eddie swallows, waiting for the inevitable and cursing himself for pretending he wouldn't care.

"I've talked to a few friends in the business and found someone willing to take you on."

What?

"What? You're not firing me?"

Anita's features soften. "Technically, yes. I am very much dropping you like a scorpion I found in my boots. However, like I said, I found someone willing to work with you. The name is Bobby Nash. He runs a smallish agency but don't let that throw you. He's cobbled together some pretty impressive talent. I assume you've heard of Evan Buckley?"

Eddie scoffs. "Of course I have. Who hasn't? Christ, he's everywhere you look. I can't pass a damn bus stop without seeing his face." A few details begin to click into place within Eddie's muddled brain. "Bobby Nash is his agent?"

"Sure is. And we all know the stories about Evan's past aren't the type you trot out at parties. My advice is that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, go with Nash and do whatever he tells you to do. He even has a role in mind for you, costarring with Buckley. What do you say?"

What else was there to say? If Eddie didn't want to get blacklisted or wind up as some washed up tragic Hollywood story, being gossiped about where everyone - including his son - could see what a failure he was...

"I guess I say- when can I meet him?"

"Good answer." Anita clasps her hands together and gives him her signature smirk that tells him she approves. "Just leave everything to me."

Up to this point, Eddie has trusted Anita implicitly with all the messy business that comes with having him for a client. Why stop now?

tagged by @loveyouanyway @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @tizniz

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @a-noble-dragon @mountedeverest @fortheloveofbuddie

@weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6 @ramonaflow

@taketheplanspinitsideways @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley @stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz

@daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

@thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rainbow-nerdss

@steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes

@shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress

@bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05

@lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus

@thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

#hippo writes #buddie wip #actors au #not what i saw myself doing today #but when is that ever true #fic: lights camera bitch smile #seven sentence sunday #sentence sunday #sunday sentences #do i know what i'm doing?#not a clue

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mentally-gone002 · 5 months ago

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is it too early to love you? - part 6

(moodboard made by moi)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

summary: readers mom is told about her breakup with james by spencer. he made the mistake of thinking she already knew, but it ended in reader getting annoyed, and later angrier than she was before.

warnings: our babies kinda fight so angsttttt

a/n: HEHEHAHFIDBIDBEKFBEID i needed to prolong it because this was originally gonna be the last part but the voices were like “NO WE DONT WANT IT TO END” so here we areeee😋😋😋 ily guys sm btw thanks for all the support on this series!!!! ENJOY GANG!!!

————————————————————————

i’ve been confused.

ever since spencer told me the reason for the kiss in his hotel room i’ve been reflecting. mostly on my feelings, which sounds like a load of bullshit but it has to be done.

‘is it too early to love you?’

i didn’t know the answer to the question i’d asked until i found out that it was my best friend the whole time instead of the guy i was with for three years. and that shocked me.

i don’t know what to do about that.

i wasn’t about to let it influence my ability to work.

“thanks penelope.” i reached for the door handle of her lair after asking her to research something for a case i was finishing the paperwork for.

she spun in her chair, smiling brightly. “of course! i love your visits mon ami.”

i smiled back to her and quickly walked the hall back to the bullpen.

upon my quick arrival through the large glass doors i was surprised to see my mom talking with spencer at my desk. i was expecting her to come by but not until five.

my eyes went to the clock and i read that it was ten after five. i must’ve spent more time with penelope than i’d thought.

“hi, mom.” i walked to my desk and set down the file in my hands. my eyes went to spencer’s briefly before i hugged her. “sorry i kept you waiting. i had to get some information on something.” i apologized.

she patted my back. “it’s alright, your work is important.” she said in understanding. i pulled away and smiled at her. “why didn’t you tell me you broke up with james?”

i looked at spencer, with wide eyes. “uhm,” i looked back at my mom. “can we talk about this later?” i asked, reaching blindly into my bag for my car keys. she nodded and pursed her lips. “i’ll meet you in the lobby, i need to give something to my boss.” i told her.

she nodded. “okay. i’ll see you down there.”

i watched her leave the bullpen, waiting for the glass doors to close all the way before i was looking up at spencer. “why did you tell her james and i broke up?”

he looked shocked. “i- she asked about you two because she hadn’t heard about him in a while and was wondering why.” he replied. “i’m sorry.”

i shook my head and gathered my things and started walking. i spun around to look back at spencer. “don’t go around telling people things that isn’t any of your business.” with that i turned and kept walking, faster now because of the annoyance bubbling under my skin.

why would he do that?

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

“why did you break up with james?” my mom asked over dinner.

i knew it was coming, i just didn’t realize she would ask as i’m in the middle of swallowing my drink. i coughed slightly and looked away, humming like i had to think about it. “he’s the one who broke up with me.” i told her.

she frowned. “why? what happened?”

i shrugged. “he just… got tired of me. he said he couldn’t deal with my job, or me as a whole.” i sifted my fork through the food on my plate. “we broke up like two months ago.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” my mom reached a hand across the small table to touch my hand.

i gave her a look. “because i knew you’d call him and tell him to change his mind.” she bit the inside of her cheek. “he wouldn’t have anyway.” my eyes rolled slightly.

she made a sad humming sound. “are you doing okay?”

i nodded. “yeah, i mean he was kind of a dick because he broke almost all of my dishes, ripped up a bunch of my books and stole my tv after he’d broken up with me, but other than that, i’ve been doing good.” i gave her a tight lipped smile. “i got everything replaced so don’t worry.” i added before she got that sad look back on her face.

“how come spencer knew about this before i did?”

i dropped my fork and pressed my fingers into my eyes. “because he confronted me and then correctly guessed what was going on.” my lie was believable because he’d done this type of thing before, and i’ve told her about how strange it was that he could figure me out so fast.

my mom took a sip of wine. “and then you just forgot to tell me?”

“what? no. i just… kept putting it off. i just didn’t- i don’t want to think about it.” my fingers scratched at the spot in front of my ear. “can we talk about something else, please?”

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

after i’d gotten home from dinner i was calling spencer. he picked up as i was locking my deadbolt and i didn’t give him a chance to greet me before i was saying, “i just sat through the most uncomfortable dinner that i’ve ever had with my mom because of you.”

spencer sputtered over the line. “because of me?”

“yes, because of you. you and your big mouth that told my mom my business.” i paced back and forth behind my couch, one arm wrapped around my middle.

“this wouldn’t have happened if you would’ve just told her sooner.” spencer retorted.

i scoffed. “oh, so this is my fault now? what a mature way to handle this.”

“this is all immature, not mature.”

“i was being sarcastic.” i rolled my eyes in annoyance.

“we’re both being immature.” he said.

i shook my head while staring at the floor. “i just wish you wouldn’t have told her.”

“i thought she already knew.”

i looked up and walked back to my room. “yeah well, she didn’t.” i put the phone on speaker as i started to get undressed.

spencer hummed. “no kidding.” he scoffed and i could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “i already apologized for this anyway, why are you calling me?”

i pulled a tank top over my head. “i don’t know, honestly.” i picked up my phone again and pressed it to my ear.

“how do you not know?”

“i just don’t, okay?” i raised my voice. “sorry.” i sighed, sitting down heavily on my bed. “i just needed to hear you voice.”

“and the best way to hear my voice was to start arguing with me?” he wondered.

i nodded. “i just needed to vent, i didn’t want it to turn into an argument.” my eyes watched as my feet slid over the carpet. “i’m sorry.”

spencer was quiet for a moment. “it’s okay.” he replied. “how’d your mom react to everything?”

i scoffed a bit. “oh, you mean what did she say about him vandalizing my place?”

“yes, that.” spencer laughed.

i smiled at the sound of his voice. i didn’t like to fight with him. that was our first argument and i hated it. “she… didn’t say anything, believe it or not.” i laid on my back. “she did ask me why you were the first one to know.”

he hummed. “what did you tell her?”

“i told her you just figured it out on your own.” i answered. “she believed me.”

“good. now she won’t have to cope with the fact that you love me more than her.”

i laughed softly. “know your place reid, i love my mom. you’re second on that list.” i bit my lip, waiting for him to reply.

“what about your sister?” he quizzed.

i sighed. “you’re a close second.”

“just a close second?” he inquired cheekily.

i smiled to myself. “fine, you can share the podium.” i bargained.

“i can work with that.” he agreed after taking a few seconds to reply. i could hear the smile on his lips and the way it infected his words.

i smiled. he was contagious. perfectly contagious. “i’m… i’m gonna go.” i said it hesitantly. i didn’t want to go but i had things to do. not sure what they are yet but i’d find something.

“okay.” spencer’s voice was softer now. a little quiet and disappointed. “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“tomorrows saturday.” i reminded him.

“right.” spencer murmured. “i’ll see you monday then.”

i hummed in agreement. “see you monday.”

“okay. bye.”

“bye, spencer.”

when the line beeped to signal the end of the call i sighed with my eyes closed. why did it have to be saturday?

i called spencer again.

“it hasn’t even been thirty seconds-“

“do you wanna do something tomorrow? like… play chess in the park or something?”

spencer stumbled over a reply. “y- yeah. i’d like that.” i smiled widely and sat up. “what time?”

“maybe noon? we could get coffee and then go to the park.”

“that sounds perfect.” he was breathy but loud enough so that i could hear him.

“okay.” i bit my lip. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yeah, see you tomorrow.”

“okay. bye… for real this time.”

spencer laughed. “for real this time.”

i smiled at his repetition and hung up.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid scenario #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #angst #is it too early to love you series

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angels-archival-office · 10 months ago

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✧ — c!tommy moodboard ; with themes of pastries and baked goods

[for: a headmate in our sys!]

#i am under the influence of swag ✧ request accepted #mood board #moodboard #tommyinnit fictive #tommyinnit introject #mcyt fictive #mcyt introject #✧ mod melody 🎧

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justletitgoandlivelife · 2 years ago

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||: baileyillustration :||

"Bring it over to my place…And you be like 'Baby, who cares?' But I know you care."

~ Under The Influence - Chris Brown ~

#moodboard #aesthetic #love #thique #peachy #under the influence #chris brown #song lyrics

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renaiswriting · 1 year ago

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Tainted Hearts (part 1)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu/Reader

Summary:

Working in a bar hadn't been your plan A; for God's sake, it hadn't even been part of your plan D.

But it hadn't been falling for them either.

Warnings: mentions of guns, mentions of alcohol, mentions of driving under the influence of alcohol. I think that's all.

Word count: +2.9k

Tainted Hearts Masterlist | Next

If you wanna be tagged, please fill out the tag list form.

Taglist: @phoebe0 @sahhmochi @meowmeowminnie @everyw0nu @kawaiicupcakedetective @lexix001 @darkdayelixer @arteme

Masterlist

Tainted Hearts moodboard

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

When your professors told you at the beginning of your university studies that it was more than likely that each and every one of their students would end up working at anything instead of what they had been studying for all those years, you thought it was just a joke. Something to break the ice the first time you met.

You remember how you even let out a loud laugh.

But, two years and seven months later, you found yourself cleaning glasses again to be filled with whiskey for the third time that night.

Working in a bar had never been part of your plan A; for God's sake, it wasn't even part of plan D, but there were bills to pay and a stomach to feed, so every night you prepared to stand for about ten hours.

The bar already had your usual customers, even though it was relatively new (compared to how long the others had been in that part of town), and it was already known that at eight o'clock you would have the three known alcoholics in town waiting at the door.

With so many hours of work at night, your sleep cycle had completely turned around, so you would get home around seven in the morning and spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon resting the hours you had not been able to sleep previously.

Your schedule often clashed with other people's schedules, so you were grateful that you had begun to form a friendship with your co-worker. It could feel quite isolating when your life was mostly nocturnal and you were surrounded by friends with jobs that went from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon.

Your eyes wandered around the tables that were being occupied; everyone seemed to have some glass in their hand, and none of the others that were empty seemed to need to be cleaned so they could be occupied again.

"Only an hour left." Your coworker, Evelyn, cheered you on, gathering several shots on the same tray to carry everything to the table occupied by a group of ten rather noisy college students. A few shouts of happiness could be heard as Evelyn approached them.

They were not your favorites; usually their tips were pretty low, and they made too many nasty comments trying to impress their friends.

So, with Evelyn, you took turns serving them, although you'd be lying if you said that on more than one occasion you hadn't made her think it was her turn when it was really your turn, but you'd make it up to her by giving her some of your own tips.

"Just one more hour," you repeated to yourself.

That night, luckily, wasn't too busy, so you allowed yourself two seconds to sit down.

Your legs, although they were used to not resting for long periods of time, were already starting.

You cursed the moment you agreed to go for a run that evening with one of your friends.

"No time to rest," your boss scolded you when he saw you sitting down. The gentleman was already in his late fifties, bordering on sixty.

His face was plump and his cheeks were a constant pinkish, almost reddish hue, which you doubted if it was from the constant alcohol in his system or if it was from the clear difficulty the gentleman had in breathing and speaking at the same time.

"Go and clean the toilets; someone vomited all over the floor."

The gentleman ignored your clearly disgusted expression, taking one of the cigars that were on your side of the bar, which were supposedly for those wealthier customers.

Evelyn sent you a look of almost pity for what was about to be in store for you.

But it quickly vanished when the annoying group of college students whistled for her attention.

The bathroom was probably small for a place that was expected to sustain long nights full of people drinking alcohol-like water. It was so small that you were even surprised that it had been approved in the first place.

And just as you expected, the place was filthy.

The mere smell of vomit was triggering your own nausea; you felt the gagging in the back of your throat.

Holding your breath, you tried to clean up as quickly as possible, feeling your eyes start to water from the disgust you were feeling.

You had to remind yourself again that you had no choice but to work and put up with such things.

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, no place would return your calls after you left them your curriculum.

It didn't matter how desperate they claimed to be in the recruitment ads.

You emerged from the small space with such a huge gag that, for a few moments, you feared the worst.

Luckily, as you walked away from the bathroom, the feeling of nausea was leaving your body.

You still felt disgusted; you feared that the ghost of vomit smell was permeating your hair and clothes, but Evelyn made no mention of it as you walked past her and stood on your side behind the bar, so you quickly told yourself to stop thinking about such things.

"God, I hate him." Evelyn muttered, looking for a few seconds too long in the direction of her boss, who was sitting with some gentlemen who clearly had money.

He loved kissing the asses of those who smelled like money from miles away.

The cigarette he had pulled out in front of you was still in his mouth, unlit.

It was forbidden due to the poorly ventilated system.

You laughed, although there was not much humor behind such a laugh. Your liking for the man was the same as your coworker's.

But neither had any choice but to bow their heads and accept the orders they were given without much to say.

The few times they had made their opinions clear and refused to do certain things, their paycheck had been greatly reduced.

So they often ended up working unpaid hours or doing the work of five people each.

"I wish he'd fall down and choke on that damn cigar." Evelyn sighed in annoyance.

"And be out of a job?" you replied with a smile.

"I'd buy this place." She replied with a look that screamed confidence. Her eyebrows were bushy, making her eyes stand out. She was a very pretty young woman. "I suppose I could hire you." She shrugged. "Your toilet cleaning skills are out of this world; It's truly a natural talent." She joked.

Evelyn's eyes shot straight to the front door as something caught her attention, the corners of her lips automatically lifting in a smile that hid a certain mischievousness.

"Oh my, oh my! Hottie one and Hottie two just walked in. Oh," she sighed melodramatically, "what I wouldn't give to attend them instead of..." Her voice gradually dropped as her eyes moved to the group that still hadn't moved from the table they had been occupying for quite some time. One of them had passed out on one of the tables, his face completely slumped on the red plastic.

None of his friends seemed very concerned, each more drunk than the other.

Your eyes followed the movements of the two men who had just entered; it was almost impossible to take your attention away from them even if you tried.

They were tall and quite muscular; they stood out even if they weren't trying.

Evelyn had been fantasizing and talking about them from the moment it was your turn to attend to them.

They didn't come to the bar often enough to be known to Evelyn or yourself, but she hadn't stopped talking about them since the moment the two of you had started to become so close that it seemed as if celebrities were visiting the place rather than just customers.

They both made their way to one of the tables farthest away from the rest, the one they usually use.

You still didn't know how, but Evelyn had managed to discover one of their names, Mingyu.

Evelyn had sworn to you that she had searched every social network there was, with no success whatsoever.

And when the frustration took the best of her, she resigned herself to asking her boss, under the excuse that she wanted to know more about a possible client with a lot of money to spend at the bar.

The answer she got was to stay away from him and any of the friends he brought to the bar. To just do what she was being paid to do—serve drinks—because anything to do with them meant trouble.

This clearly only made Evelyn's desire to find out more about them grow even more; it was as if all the words that had come out of her boss's mouth had gone in one ear and out the other.

So much had this been the case that your boss had ended up forbidding her to attend to them, leaving you alone to carry out such a task.

For your part, unlike Evelyn, the words of your boss had had their effect, so you limited yourself to saying just what was necessary before disappearing behind the bar to bring them their drinks.

Mingyu was always the one doing the talking; his companion, whose name you had no idea, always remained silent, his eyes studying the surroundings of the bar.

Your feet automatically went to where the two of them were sitting, discussing something heatedly.

Mingyu's arm was leaning on the table, his torso completely turned in the direction of his friend, his ear close to the other man's face, trying to hear what he was saying to him over the background music and the shouts of the college students.

The other man's cold eyes connected with yours, and his lips stopped moving, following your movements with an expressionless face.

You couldn't stand the eye contact for more than two seconds, forcing you to avert your gaze to the floor until you had no choice but to raise it to address them when you were already in front of their table.

Mingyu gave you a cheeky smile. His eyes were big and round. And if it weren't for your boss's warning, you would have taken them as warm and inviting.

They were in stark contrast to the other man's monolids.

"Gentlemen, will you be alone tonight or will you be accompanied by someone else?"

"Just us tonight." Mingyu replied, "I hope you won't be disappointed."

"What can I do for you tonight, then?" You asked directly to Mingyu, since he was always the one who spoke to you. None of his friends seemed interested in you, not even the one who was sitting next to him and the second most familiar face in the whole bar after Mingyu.

"The usual." Mingyu shrugged, his smile intact on his face. "Or anything, I don't much care." His eyes moved to his friend's. "And neither does he."

You wanted to praise your mind for memorizing their orders to perfection, down to the most insignificant detail, since it helped you avoid having to spend more time writing them down in front of them.

Mingyu's honey-like skin seemed to be glowing under the lights far away from the bar; the corner was so far away from them that their skin was only barely kissed by such harsh light.

You allowed yourself to look at them once you were safely behind the bar.

Mingyu's slightly long hair was tugged behind his right ear, some of it starting to move to his face, hiding it from your view as he had returned to his position towards his friend.

You had been surprised to see only them that night, as the last few times they had attended in large groups of more than five people.

They always sat as far away from the rest of the people as possible, and as the discussions began, you would find them looking over their shoulders to make sure no one was nearby.

You were sure you had once seen one of them leave a gun on the table.

That was the time your stomach sank and you practically ran to the back of the bar, so shaky and pale that Evelyn forced you to go home early to rest, fearing you would pass out right there.

You contemplated whether to tell your boss or not, since there was no other sort of security working there, but before you could even attempt to walk near him, they all left the bar with a huge tip for you on the table.

It had been more than what you had made that whole week.

So, while it was scary, in some way, you continued to attend them without complaining to your boss.

You needed the money, and they never failed to give it to you.

You were terrified of someday making a stupid mistake and pissing them off, but, other than that, you thought you were... Okay.

"I don't understand why they're coming to a bar if they're going to drive next." Evelyn muttered, her chin resting on her palm as she stared at them unabashedly, sighing with each passing second, neither of them making any attempt to look in her direction.

"And you're going to tell them they can't drink because they're going to drive?" You asked sarcastically, your knees bumping against the cold floor as you desperately searched for a bottle of gin.

"Obviously not." Evelyn replied, rolling her eyes. She had slurred the last word so much that it had been lost in the background noise. "But they shouldn't be doing it."

"I agree, but who knows, maybe later they'll be picked up by one of their friends, or they'll call a cab." You shrugged; you didn't want to think the worst of them, but the thought of letting them drive off drunk left a bitter taste in your mouth.

"I'd hurry up if I were you; the boss is already sending us looks that are anything but discreet."

You stood up so quickly that, for a few moments, you lost your balance, having to hold on tightly to the wood of the bar.

"Wow, are you okay?" Evelyn asked, rushing to grab you by the arm to help you stand.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine." You assured her, and still somewhat wobbly, you very carefully approached the place where Mingyu and his friend were.

They both stopped their conversation again when they saw your approach; this time Mingyu had been the first to notice your presence, sending a big flirtatious smile in your direction.

"Need help with that?" he offered, both of his hands stretched out in your direction, taking part of the tray you had rested the drinks on with his large palms.

His fingers brushed against yours, and you'd swear his skin was a few degrees above normal. "I think you have a fever."

As soon as the words left your mouth, your eyes widened as you realized you had broken your number one rule: never interact with them more than strictly necessary.

Mingyu's friend frowned, quickly moving forward and taking Mingyu's hands away from yours, taking a few seconds to compare Mingyu's temperature with his own.

"It's not going to help; your hands are always freezing." Mingyu spoke, answering some sort of mental question his friend had apparently asked him. The eyes of the man whose name you didn't know yet moved to Mingyu's, looking at him seriously. "It's normal."

Mingyu shrugged, breaking free of his friend's grip to grab his drink. His eyes rested on your figure, and one of his eyebrows was raised as if telling you, See, I'm fine.

The glass was completely empty within seconds, and he let out a sigh once his lungs were filled with air again.

"I'll need one more of this, if you don't mind." He said, his voice sounding more like a tease than serious.

"Sure thing." You replied.

The other man's eyes connected with yours for a brief second, and it was enough to send some shivers down your spine.

"Should I— uh?" You stumbled with your own words, not quite knowing how to continue under the other man's intense gaze.

Mingyu gently bumped his shoulder into his, causing him to finally look away from you to focus on Mingyu.

"What?" The man asked. His voice was low and mesmerizing. His face still remained quite emotionless, but there was something in his voice that made you realize he wasn't truly upset with Mingyu.

"You're driving tonight?"

The man nodded. "Brick cannot make it tonight."

It was as if your ears pricked up every time the silent man opened his mouth, your whole body trying to catch every little sound it could.

He slowly slid the glass until the crystal clinked against Mingyu's wrist, who, smiling at his friend, carefully lifted it to his mouth, his eyes moving to Mingyu's Adam's apple.

"Water."

You jumped to the voice speaking directly at you. The man's eyes were on you, almost as if he was expecting that to be enough for you to understand what he wanted.

"I'm sorry?"

"Water. I want water."

"Of course." You excused yourself, flying out of their sight in embarrassment.

God, that was going to be such a long hour.

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