#vietnamese masks

[masagitusih]

Mask Lady sarynall nguyen

[amethystsoda]

fun morning/afternoon with @giogio-gucci-gangstar 🥰🥰 lunch, coffee, books and very pale instax photos 💖

[aetherotransformer]

firajas your gay ass

[mgllc]

https://images.picxy.com/cache/2020/6/5/eb53a424145ba1b0c075f3f1214da5bc.jpg

Bamboo basket painted masks.

[hellkeepers-if]

DEMO (prologue out) UPDATES

Set in an alternate version of Singapore, you're a fresh university graduate bumbling through life as you desperately look for a job.

...Or that's what your mother thinks. In a world where occult ceremonies are as common as an existential crisis, there's no way you were ever going to be a perfectly average office worker. Just like your twin brother, you work for the International Society Of Exorcists (ISOE) which deals with supernatural occurrences, demonic rituals, and the like.

When a tragic event befalls your older sister, it uproots your entire life and everything you ever knew about the supernatural. With it, comes a forced need to come to terms with a family history straight out of the movies. 

After all, how the hell did it take twenty years to find out that you're descended from the freaking king of the underworld?

"I have a duty to myself, but more importantly, my family."

——————

Inspired by Supernatural, Fullmetal Alchemist, Noragami, and the Percy Jackson series, Hellkeepers is a +18 urban fantasy/paranormal interactive fiction, involving elements of Chinese and Southeast-Asian mythology. In every playthrough, you will...

• Play as a female, male, or non-binary Chinese demigod/ess.

• Determine the relationships between you and your family members. After all, they will play a big part in your story...

• Peel apart the full truth behind you and your siblings' birthright. Your parents can't hide it forever.

• Learn more about Chinese and Southeast Asian mythology as you warp into different dimensions, unlike anything you've seen before.

• Learn more about who you were in your past life.

| Nishimura Kazuo (he/him)

Age: 26

Ethnicity: Japanese

With a penchant for mischief and a charm that woos even the most stubborn of grandmas, Kazu is the wildcard of your organization. You think he's an anarchist, and the only reason he's tied down to the ISOE is so that he has an excuse for whatever havoc he wreaks on the supernatural. 

The A-ranked exorcist is your colleague and your brother's mentor, though you rarely ever see him in his office. But if you ever need him for demon fighting, he'll be there. Most of the time.

"Mind taking that pesky thing out for me while I take a quick nap?"

| Quentin Khanh (Quan) (he/him)

Age: 25

Ethnicity: Vietnamese

Quentin, more affectionately known as Quan, was your childhood friend. After he moved overseas, the weekly texts you sent him fizzled into nothing but a lost friendship.

Since then, he's returned to Singapore as a forensics pathologist and researcher under your organisation. Whether you like it or not, you have to no choice but to work with him for most of your investigations.

"If your bribe doesn't involve a penthouse worth of money, don't talk to me."

| Reyna Aliyah Santos (she/her)

Age: 23

Ethnicity: Mixed (Filipino-Chinese)

You've never quite met someone like Reyna. A halfling with a demon mother and a human father. Being raised in Singapore all her life with little knowledge of her parents, it's natural that Reyna would come to the ISOE for help at the mere instance of a fox tail and white fur.

You've been tasked to help her mask and get comfortable with her supernatural powers, but she won't make it easy for you. After all, foxes do bite. 

"Technically, I'm not stealing anything if they don't notice."

| Song Huayun (she/her)

Age: ????

Ethnicity: "Uhh...from Hell?" Chinese

| You don't know too much about Huayun, except for the fact that she lives in Diyu, the Chinese Underworld. As Diyu's gatekeeper, Huayun has seen countless depravities committed by humans before their deaths. That alone has made it hard for her to like them, and the contempt she shows you is no different than what she shows everyone else.

But with time, maybe she'll finally learn what it is like to feel human…and what a smile is.

"If it isn't the star of tonight's show. Welcome to Diyu."

| The Arbiter of Fate (m/f)

Theyre a stranger, or so you say. But this deity knows everyone...especially you.

[crevicedwelling]

baby face

in contrast to the giant centipedes of the Americas that often start out looking like their parents, many Scolopendra found in Africa and Asia have starkly different color patterns as babies that slowly shift to adult patterns as they grow, known as ontogenetic color change.

Vietnamese Scolopendra dehaani start out jet-black with orange appendages & head. some show a black mask near the eyes too, which is very cute! as adults, the body and head become a chocolate brown, the legs turn pale yellow with a gradient to orange in the last few pairs (in a less common form all legs are orange), and the antennae become bright red.

mine are growing rapidly and already seem a warmer shade of black than when I first got them two molts ago. I hope they’ll all be big brown dragons in another year or so!

[derfpossessions]

Rented You Out - Part 5

Previously…

Denholm and Markus were on their way to their client when they discovered a bodysuit of a man who disappeared a year ago. They decided to keep the suit and see what happened to the man and how he ended up being a lifeless suit in a box from a strange janitor.

—————

“So, what are we gonna do with him?” Markus said.

“I think I should wear him.” Denholm said.

“What?? But.. that wouldn’t make sense.. A suit cannot wear another one! You might risk yourself getting hurt!”

“But I’m not fully a suit! I want to live this man’s life to give it proper closure!” Denholm argued and grabbed the suit’s legs.

“Well.. here goes nothing.” He starts putting on the suit by opening the back zipper. There, the deflated biceps of the guy became chiseled, the veins in his arms bulged out, and the legs became more bolder. As he puts on the mask, his chest started puffing out, and the perfect jawline appeared out of the face.

Sweating, he pants and turns around to Markus, and Markus was in awe.

“Did it.. did it worked?” Denholm said in a new sexy Vietnamese accent.

“Damn your voice… it’s so baritone and suave!!” Markus’ sex drive was driving him insane.

“Well he is ripped. I’m sure he spent a lot of time building this perfect bod.” Denholm said as he looked at himself in the mirror. His now black hair, brown eyes, piercings and earrings, and tattoos gleamed out.

“Ok then, you do what you gonna do to that body, I’ll just take over your student council duties for today.” Markus said as he left.

“What’s this?” Denholm noticed Markus dropped a bag with panties in it.

“But I thought he was gay…” He added while looking confused.

Denholm scourged through the guy’s memories to see what his past life had looked like. His name was Vince Long, a Vietnamese-American who was born from a wealthy family, and an alumni from the same high school as him. Vince was a top-tier student with straight-As, and to top it off, he had a hot girlfriend. They were the perfect couple, and the happiest one, until Vince suddenly disappeared.

One night after their 2nd year anniversary, Vince and his girlfriend Aurora left the restaurant at night to head home, when suddenly a white van appeared from the dark and took Vince and Aurora in. To her surprise, Aurora was spared by the men and left alone, she was left scarred and in pain to this day.

As for what happened with Vince next, Denholm couldn’t dig into any more memories, as the load must have stopped once he was turned into a full bodysuit.

“Could Aurora been also spared and left as a half-bodysuit like me?”, Denholm questioned as he looked through the pictures in Vince’s home.

It’s been a year since Vince’s disappearance , and his flat has been maintained by his family’s staff in honor of him. Denholm puts down his bag on Vince’s bed and looks in the mirror.

“You know what… maybe I should have a little bit of fun first”, Denholm says as he takes off his shirt and starts squeezing Vince’s hardening cock.

“Oohh… haven’t tried this in a while to be honest..” Denholm whispers as Vince’s sexy deep tones come out of his mouth.

“Ahh yes.. I’m Vince the engineer.. come here baby.. the fuckboy’s gonna unleash all his cum to you..” Denholm was shocked that even the way he speaks resembled very closely to Vince’s. The months long abandoned bedroom of Vince has been blessed not by holy water, but with his fresh loaded cum that hasn’t been released since 2022. Denholm lies down in bed in satisfaction as he tastes Vince’s long-expired cum.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door. Denholm got dressed and answered it, and to his surprise, it was Vince’s parents, Mr and Mrs Long waiting for him. They held tight his son while they burst into tears.

“We’ve looked for you everywhere! We miss you so much!” Mrs Long said as she hugged her son.

The parents took him back to their family mansion where they had a Thanksgiving Prayer with a reading on the Prodigal Son, to celebrate’s Vince’s homecoming.

Then, Denholm filed an official statement regarding Vince’s kidnapping to help solve the people responsible for the his kidnapping and the others as well. A joint investigation took place while Denholm gave the police more details about a “bodysuit factory”.

After the party was over, Denholm went home to Vince’s place, where he saw Aurora.

“Babe… babe is that you?!?” Aurora started tearing up and ran up to him.

“I missed you so much…” ‘Vince’ said in shock while he hugged his girlfriend.

The two shared a romantic kiss and embraced each other with the reunion. For Denholm it felt like he gave Vince the closure he needed, but he cannot live as Vince forever.

Aurora made the next move. She dragged Vince up the stairs and the two started undressing.

Excited, Aurora undresses herself and undresses Vince’s long sleeve, and his tank top.

He revealed his white Calvin Klein boxers while his cock barks back at her as he starts to get very horny.

“This is… wrong.” Denholm whispered as he started grabbing the sheets. “Babe.. what do you mean? I missed you so much!!” Aurora was biting her lips.

“Your breath… your armpit hairs… your leg hairs… your Amazon rainforest in your cock… every single inch of you I am craving right now.” Aurora was starting up the engine.

“Oh I miss doing this.” Aurora said while she touches Vince’s abs. “Babe.. maybe we should slow down.” Vince tried resisting. “Oh fuck this. give me that!” Aurora ripped his boxers wide and revealed the arching cock that she’s been craving for.

Aurora then starts teasing his manhood until it did a standing ovation. They then started kissing mouth to mouth and rolled on the bed, knocking over the bed sheets.

Vince’s mouth started watering as he grabbed Aurora’s breasts to drink her milkshake. He gave her clitties a blessful kiss, and he started inserting it in. The hole kept declining though, like a debit card refusing to be read by an ATM.

She then licked his ass, with the expired butt hairs electrifying out like that one Nair video.

“Why not repair my ass? Civil engineering? Fuck that.. engineer this pussy.” She started cracking up.

“What the fuck is this woman on?” Vince started to get so scared. She then resisted him pulling away and she bited his pecs. He screamed faintly like a little girl but felt delighted and rubbed her back again.

“You know what…? Let me fold you like a fucking pretzel.” Vince grinned. She screamed out loud as he bent her back and put the funnel into the bottle opening. She screamed and screamed and screamed. They were both suffocating in each other’s saliva, cum and seemingly piss. They were banging the walls and even squeezed themselves in the closet. She was freaking out as he chased him down the halls, both naked.

They Netflix and chilled, he pulled her many times to kiss her, and she rubbed his pubic hairs like petting their Shih Tzu Tracy. It was a very immaculate and blessed moment.

They did various poses! Doggy, cowboy, missionary, and our favorite, 69. They did it and did it until they got sweaty and started panting.

Aurora slurps out Vince’s loaded manhood like she’s slurping out a big bowl of ramen. She giggles as his load explodes out of her face, and she kneels down as he starts inserting his rubbery dick into her rubbery pussy. (Hold on… rubbery pussy..?, We’ll get there later on.)

Vince was making sure the zipper at the back of his neck wasn’t opening out as he exerts extra pressure against Aurora in bed. They both giggle as Aurora licks Vince’s smooth sweaty abs and she starts biting them. Vince screamed out but it didn’t hurt as much as he expected, it felt like he got bit by a dog while wearing a silicone rubber pants.

“Let’s do it again.” Aurora said while running out of breath. They initiated their sacred rituals again and again throughout the whole night. Fuck me ‘til up daylight indeed.

As Vince and Aurora finally covered themselves under the sheets, they both rest and as they cuddle each other, not knowing something behind there was opening up. Let me turn it into a saying, Don’t leave the fridge open at night.

Both drenched in sweat, Vince goes to the bathroom to get toilet paper to clean up the exploded fluids in his room. But something was wrong. The zipper opened a little bit, and was stuck.

Aurora then discovered this and just stood there as if she knew this whole time that he was a bodysuit.

“Babe.. it’s not what it looks like.. I promise.” Vince was in shock and started shaking.

“I- um.. I no… no..” Aurora was also nervous. she turned around to look away, but then it was another jaw-dropping moment: her zipper was also opened, she thought it wouldn’t get exposed but the bra she had just put on wasn’t enough to conceal it.

“What…?? WHAT?!?” Vince tried grabbing Aurora’s arm but she ran as fast as she could and fled the scene.

Denholm chased her down to the garage, but the bodysuit was starting to melt as the zipper had been exposed. He tried unzipping himself a few more tries, and managed to get out of Vince’s body.

Denholm now ran to the garage door but Aurora had locked it. Denholm tried breaking in, using everything he had on the house to reach the inside.

Denholm figured out that he could simply open the front garage doors and catch her in the act, so he pushed the button and the front garage lifted upward and he rushed inside, but it wasn’t what he was expecting, never at all expected what it was.

He took a step closer but to his surprise, Markus was there, seemingly apprehending the now-empty Aurora suit.

“Markus what the fuck are you doing here?!??” Denholm freaked out.

“I.. I don’t know! I just found this body snatcher somewhere and I followed her to this home! I didn’t know this was your bodysuit’s home!” Markus said.

“Dang it. FUCKKKKK!!!!!” Denholm let out a very loud scream as he started kicking the nearby objects. He was angry. He was FURIOUS.

“I think this suit is also like you, Denholm. I think she was also spared because she’s not hollow right now, she has a pulse.” Markus said.

“Well we better drive her home safely then. I’ll also take home Vince and keep it in our property.” Denholm said as he started the car to head home.

As he headed out, a nervous grin and a blush came out of Markus.

“I wonder if he’ll ever know…”

(17 Hours earlier…)

Aurora: “Yes, yes that would be 45.99 for the jeans.”

Customer: “Ok, I’m paying by credit. I really love your local boutique!”

Aurora: “Thank for you shopping here! This boutique means a lot to me as me and my late boyfriend invested a lot on it!”

Markus then walks in while wearing a face mask and sunglasses.

Aurora: Hi welcome to Beautiful Botanica Boutique— AHHHHHH!!!

Aurora let out a loud scream and passed out.

Markus: Welcome.. and goodbye bitch.

Markus laughed maniacally as he lifted Aurora and unzipped her back, which transformed her into a bodysuit.

He then started sliding his legs into her more smaller ones, causing a huge stretch on the suit. Her body also expanded wide as Markus’ masculine torso squished in to fill in the void. Soon once Markus put on the mask, the suit realigned and formed itself: The legs started to shrink into a more feminine physique, and the waist significantly decreased and compressed Markus’ body. It was uncomfortable for him but it was all worth it. His new breasts also grew out to his desire. Markus looks into the store’s mirror.

“Hi welcome to Beautiful Botanica Boutique!” He said in a new feminine high-pitched voice.

“Hey Vince.. hey baby… hey… Denholm.”

She said while she seductively stares into her reflection, and giggled. She packed up her stuff and left to go to Vince’s place.

— TO BE CONTINUED —

[shuxiii]

Love at first web— Hanni Pham x reader

synopsis: Hanni desperate for a hit news was ready to do anything to have a brief interview with the one and only friendly neighborhood spider-man. Yet it didn't seem like an easy task when you're swinging out of reach of her, so she does the ordeal.

Note: is my obsession getting obvious for the Australian-Vietnamese girl now because i think its getting chronic each day

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

''Hanni, you can't just do whatever you want without facing the repercussions,'' Minji, my long-time best friend and my boss.

''I can make it up to, i can—''

''Hanni, you've caused too much problem and it's causing harm to our resources; why don't you focus on less challenging news?'' Minji says ''well like um,, oh! like that protest against—''

I was too driven by my thoughts to even care to listen to her rantings, I couldn't bear to be held back I've dedicated my life to journalism, just a few rough patches won't stop me.

I need to think, i need something big. something that will give me back Minji's trust in my work, I look at the little spider on the wall hanging on its web quietly weaving its spider web, and it hits me.

''so like i was saying han—''

''I can talk to Spider-girl'' I say.

Minji takes a pause and stares at me perplexed.

''What?''

''i can get an interview with spider-girl themselves,'' I suggest hesitantly. and that didn't go unnoticed by Minji.

''really? how exactly?'' she asked.

crap. think of something.

''well, i have contacts that will get me through spider-girl myself,'' I lie ''so if you just let me do this, just once I'll make it up for those mistakes.''

''Hanni—'' I gaze at Minji's conflicted thoughts, she knows me well. she knows i don't just give up. and eventually, she sighs.

''fine, but if i don't get any progress by the end of the week, you're halted with any bigger works.''

I jumped in triumph, hugging Minji tightly.

''okay don't get ahead of yourself, you still owe me an interview with a superhero'' she giggles.

i rejoiced too soon, now i was in a cornered wall.

lying was easy, but making it real was difficult

Let's be real how exactly will I get a hold of a human swinging from buildings to buildings like it's a normal Monday morning.

It was deemed so impossible but what do I have to lose? Yeah, my job. Exactly.

If I don't get this interview, then I’ll question myself if I was ever suited for journalism, I don't care if it takes a train to stop me, I'm getting that spider.

I knew exactly how to get their attention. It's simple put myself in to trouble.

🕸️ 🕸️ 🕸️ 🕸️ 🕸️

And as smart yet stupid as i was, i decided to get mugged in an alleyway.

It was easy, carry an expensive-looking bag while appearing naive and vulnerable. You’ll have all the eyes of every burglar you get in Manhattan.

I go down a dark alleyway, hearing faint and slow footsteps behind me, and as I reach the end of the street, I glance back to see two buff males wearing balaclava masks approaching me.

And, like every comedian's punch line, they speak their six legendary lines.

“Give us all you have, miss”

And of course I try to stall.

“I don't have anything with me,” I say.

I heard a scoff at the other guy much more shorter than the other one.

“Then what's in your bag?” He says “Nothing?” He laughs.

I take a step back and with every step they inch closer. Yet no signs of that famous red suit spider.

The consequences of my impulsive choices has started to bite back at me, and the fear has started to set in.

“C’mon miss, you don't want to make this harder than it already is” the taller one says.

He grips on my wrist, tight enough to make me wince.

“Let go of me!” I try to push away his hand but he was twice as big as me, and it didn't budge at all.

raspy laughs echoed through the dark alleyway, and he grips me tighter.

“This one's a fighter eh?” He smiles, putting his face closer to mine, smelling the horrible stench of cigarettes and alcohol.

“My, I couldn't take a good look at you but aren't you a little too pretty to be here? He says “We definitely hit the jackpot.”

I look back at him in disgust. And even though I tried to hide my dread, I felt confined and terrified more than I ever had before.

“Why don't you entertain us huh?” He grins with a gleam of darkness in his eyes.

I felt tears drop against my cheeks as i imagine the worst to come.

I close my eyes in fear.

“Hey jerry help me here” he says.

Yet the silence was only heard.

“Jerry!” He yells louder “ are you fucking deaf?”

“What the fuck!”

I open my eyes to see the shorter guy webbed against the wall, muffling.

"Hey now, that's not very chivalrous of you," the one and only says as the guy collides with the wall in the blink of an eye.

A loud thud was heard, as the burglar falls inside the steel wheelie bin.

And just like that the two burglars were webbed and knocked out.

I stood there in both fear and relief.

Suddenly she went up to me placing both her hands against my cheeks,

“Hanni? Are you okay?!” She says with quaver in her voice, like she was scared.

“Are you hurt, did he hurt you?” She gently brushes the part of my wrist the guy gripped.

“Yeah—I’m okay,” I say yet the shake in my voice said otherwise.

She looks at me and suddenly her lenses became bigger, like she just registered what she said.

And I gaze back at her, my benevolent savior, perhaps momentarily questioning the disparities between her identities.

“Wait…Hanni?” i say.

We stare at each other in awkward silence.

“Wait—how do you know my name?” I ask.

“What—I mean no—uh” she stutters “I’ve seen you in new reports! You’re quite a renowned reporter…hahaha”

“Anyway,” she coughs “What are you doing here? Don't you know it's not safe being out so late?”

Yeah what was I doing here? Right. Getting myself in trouble to get an interview from you.

“I was going home but these guys followed me and led me to an alleyway” I lie.

“Uh huh,” she pauses, slightly unconvinced “Well um I better get going”

As she was about to swing out my sight, i grab hold of her wrist.

“Wait!” I shriek.

She looks back at me before looking at my hands holding her wrist.

I quickly let go.

“Um—I was wondering if I could get an interview from you?” I ask, hopeful.

“Uh,” she says “Look, I’m a little busy with my fans at the moment aka my enemies you know? I don't think—“

“It won't take a minute” I pleaded.

“I'm not sure…” she scratches her nape.

“If you don't, well I’ll have to keep putting myself in trouble” i blurt out.

“Keep putting yourself in trouble?” She ask “did you—did you put yourself in trouble, to talk to me?” Did

I seriously don't know when to keep my mouth shut, do I?

“Don't you know how utterly dangerous that is?” She inches closer to me “You could hurt yourself or—or even worst!”

i felt like a kid again scolded by their parents except it was a superhero giving me an earing lecture.

“There are so many ways but you decide the most reckless one?” She continues “what if I’m not here when you get hurt?

She was meters away from me and one push was all it needed, maybe if the mask was removed it would have been.

She awkwardly blinks and freezes, noticing the gap between us.

She stiffly backs away from me. Shes one awkward hero.

“Sorry totally forgot personal space existed” she stutters.

“You’re just like someone I know” I say, giggling.

“What?” She asks, taken aback.

“You’re just like someone I know, her names Yn.” I tell her “She’s always nagging about these kinds of stuff.”

I smile at the thought.

“Really, are they cute? She ask “I m-mean like are they hot, or pretty maybe cute, maybe all of the above?”

I look at her, laughing.

“What—did I say something wrong?”

“No”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Its just a little odd for a superhero to ask such question,” I say.

“Oh, Im sorry—“

“Yeah, they’re cute.”

“What.”

“I said they’re cute.”

“Oh wow—uh so um,” she says “so do you like them?”

I hesitate and smiled at her.

“Yeah, I like her.”

"Like—like them?" She glances back at me, and even with the mask covering her eyes, I can tell she was looking at me intently.

Something about her gaze that hid behind that mask felt so recognizable, almost as if it was a recurring gaze I would see, but I couldn't place my finger on it.

"Why does it seem like you're the one interviewing here?" I ask, smiling back. "How about if you let me interview you, I'll answer all your questions."

She pauses for a moment, considering the deal. And I give her the best beseeching eyes, something I would never do but if it takes a cute girl to allure a man, then I’ll do everything it takes to get a sweet yes.

But this is a hero, a person who has gone through many things I don’t think being seductive would work but it won't hurt to tease, won't it?

“Do you want me to kiss you?” I say, teasingly “Does a kiss seal the deal?”

“W-What?!” She stammers “did the guy hit your head ?”

“Haha very funny one, no he didn’t,” I say, “ it’s just taking you so long to answer, and you aren't denying the kiss, I won't mind either, you have my consent.”

She stays quiet, and i took a few step closer to her.

Her lenses widen as she puts her hands in defense.

“Okay, I-I agree you don't need to do that!” She sputters.

I squeal in excitement, hugging her. I'm not sure whether I'm hallucinating, but the way her body fits in my hold, it had this familiarity to it. it felt like I've hugged her before like I was grown to it, it felt like I was in the arms of someone I love.

“That kiss was just a joke if you didn't get the memo” I chuckle as I let go of the embrace, but the feeling stayed against my skin.

“Y-Yeah i knew it was a joke” she crosses her arms between her chest.

“Well then, how about we meet on the rooftop of the Daily Bugle? Tomorrow, sounds great?”

“Um yeah sure sure, grool” she says.

Grool? Who says that these days.

“Alright” i laugh.

She timidly shoots me a quick wave as she backs away from me still looking back at me.

“Y-Yeah,” she says “see you later”

''Wait! Look ou—'' I winced as she stumbled backward after hitting her head against the steel pole.

“Are you okay?”

“I did that intentionally,” she says “ and it didn't hurt at all”

''right.''

Before she decides to leave completely, she says something that makes my heart feel soft to this day.

“And Han, please don’t do this again,” she says “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

A nickname only I knew who would always call me and suddenly the same familiarity started to dwell on me again, and the questions that lingered in my head started to be answered.

It all became clear.

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 3

TW for the chapter: self-harm, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, masturbation, problematic mom-daughter relationship

After spending forty minutes on the tube and another twenty squeezed onto a bus with sweaty, boundary-ignorant strangers, you finally got home from your coffee date with the devil. 

In that time, you had more or less come to terms with the fact that you had truly lost it.

This left you with three options: First, you could go to a psychiatrist (how do you find a psychiatrist?) and tell the truth. Your laptop is talking to you, a devil is stalking you with the clear intention of fucking you and taking your soul, in no particular order. They'd chalk it up to psychosexual mania, Freudian theories of repressed desires and frustrations. Prescriptions for anti-psychotics and anti-hallucinogens would follow while they dug into your very much fatherless past.

The second thing a person haunted by the devil might do is go to a priest. The last time you set foot in a church was when your mother could make you go, so it would be as much a surprise for the priest to see you there as it would be for you to do so again. Also, you can't help but imagine walking into a confessional only to find Raphael smirking back at you from behind the lattice screen, which brings you back to option one.

The third option was to accept your madness and play along with it. It had already made the last week of your life more exciting than the entire preceding twenty-seven years combined.

It wasn't a difficult choice.

Since your arrival at home, you had not let your phone leave your side for a single second, not in the shower, not on the toilet. Meanwhile, you had begun your preparations for the rendezvous, and you had begun by scheduling your torture for the very next day. 

Your tormentor was a petite Vietnamese girl who promised her methods would not hurt, and the execution chamber was a rundown salon down the street that definitely condoned illegal employment practices. 

Not like you could afford anything nicer anyway.

You could barely scrape together enough cash for waxing (damn inflation), but imagining that Raphael had watched you straddle a Bad Dragon dildo all natural- unshaved legs and the rest - was way more mortifying than the idea that the devil himself was watching.

After the Vietnamese girl ripped hair from your most sensitive areas, you felt prepared for any infernal punishment. When questioned if it hurt, you lied through clenched teeth.

The rest of the Sunday was a shopping blur. The last time you went on a date was some nine months ago (prior to BG3 coming out), it lasted an hour but left enough of an impression to delete your profile from Bumble, so you were completely out of stock of anything half-way decent, not to speak decent enough for a date with Raphael.

You consulted with the Devil's Den about what to wear and what lingerie Raphael would prefer, which didn't help much as everyone had their own interpretation of his preferences, ranging from none at all to him wearing lingerie himself.

At the start of the working week, your bank balance had dropped by four hundred euros and you still hadn't received any calls on your mobile phone. 

Wasn't there a rule about waiting three days? Whoever came up with this shit should spend his afterlife as a lemure.

You went through the motions at work, barely awake during two team conference calls, only to be told you looked "exhausted". This, despite having spent the entire previous day in a facial mask. To add insult to injury, you were scheduled for a "personal development" meeting next week.

In between the conference calls, you took the time to write two essays on Tumblr. The first was about how Raphael would easily conquer the Nine Hells and anyone who doubted that was an idiot (you didn't actually write that, but you certainly meant it). 

The second was about how Tav was the real villain for robbing Raphael. Maybe these posts would flatter Raphael enough to prompt him into calling you. Both got a decent amount of likes and reblogs, but not the attention you were hoping for.

On Monday night, you spent a good two hours staring at your phone, desperately waiting for some strange email, some kind of notification, however unsettling it might be.

It's not like Raphael actually works for that bloody law firm, is it? 

Or maybe, for devils, the usual waiting time for a call is a couple of years. After all, Raphael was angry for a dozen years that one time.

when you remember you have a mother call me hope you have a nice day

Well, you asked for a disturbing notification, and now you've got one. Your mother had an uncanny ability to make you feel guilty with just one precisely aimed message. Despite being well acquainted with her tactics (which she vehemently denied having), they managed to hit their mark every time.

She wasn’t a bad person, no, far from it; God knows she had enough problems as a single mother in a small and predominantly Catholic town an hour's drive away. 

She was the first in her family to go to university, but had to drop out when she became pregnant with you. Went through several terrible relationships, which she ended for your sake. You were her walking shattered dreams. 

It hadn't been that long since you'd last spoken on the phone, maybe a week? 

OK, a week was long. 

“Hi mum," you sighed into your phone. "Sorry, I've been busy."

"With what?" her voice fizzed over the line, laced with a scepticism only a mother can muster.

A solid start.

"With adult life?" you said.

"Adult life is juggling a full-time job, a child and a house that needs constant attention, Anya. You don't have any of that."

"I have a full-time job, Mum, remember?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I know how 'busy' you IT people are. Anyway, I called to tell you something very important".

You were not IT people, you worked for an IT company, but for you mum, you were IT people and therefore by definition overpaid and underworked. 

"I was at Nadine's", she said, and made a dramatic pause.

Oh great. Nadine, the human drain on your mother's savings, which were far from abundant. How your mother reconciled her devout Catholicism with regularly going to a fortune teller (and with getting pregnant at twenty out of wedlock) was one of the things that defied your comprehension. She had an intricate system, which only she would call logic, to justify these contradictions; you gave up trying to understand it long ago.

"Don't get upset - it wasn't about you or anything”, you mum said. “Your name just came up in conversation and we ended up doing a reading - just ONE reading, but it was... enlightening."

As every single reading so far. 

"Yes?" you asked, not bothering to fake enthusiasm.

"Well..." She drew out the word. "The cards say you're going to meet someone special soon. A King of Pentacles, imagine! So, mature, financially secure, gallant…"

A gallant gentleman would not keep a lady dying for his call.

“There is more, Anja. There was also the Devil in the spread. Do you know what that means?"

You paused. "...the Devil himself is interested in me?"

Your mother let out a joyous laugh.

"Anya, sweetie, I love you, but I don't think THE Devil would be interested in you. Not this way, anyway”.

That stung a bit. After all these years of him supposedly seducing you into premarital sex and drugs, succeeding at the former and barely scratching the pot surface with the latter, and now he was suddenly not interested in you.

Well, that’s where you are wrong, mum. Hopefully.

"No, that means... Now I'm quoting Nadine here, Anya... Negative forces holding you back from reaching your full potential. NEGATIVE THINKING! That's what I've been saying all along!"

“Ah”, you said. “Right”.

You checked out and let the phone rest on the table on loudspeaker, allowing your mother to continue her monologue of small town gossip.The right-side neighbour was fooling around with someone else's wife, neighbour to the left doesn’t mow his lawn. You surfed on your laptop in the meanwhile.

queen-of-the-bored: now did you read that Raph smut I sent you

queen-of-the-bored: that one

You were hoping to get out of reading smut with Raphael and into living it. Ah, hell, maybe that would draw him out somehow. Maybe this would be about him and you, some meta stuff, a special surprise he wrote himself for you. 

You opened AO3 and began to scan the warning triggers that preceded the chapter. "Non-con", "pillory confinement", "rough anal sex", "face fucking" and "forced urination", and that was just for starters.

No.

Absolutely fucking not. 

“Holy fuck”, you said, and promptly closed the web-page.

"Anya! Watch your mouth! But yes, you are right, of course”, your mom said . “All these years acting like she is the holy and mighty and knows best… ”

you: are you ok recommending stuff like that?

queen-of-the-bored: what queen-of-the-bored: come on now queen-of-the-bored: dude this you?

She sent a screenshot of your Tumblr post with five hundred likes and forty-one reblogs:

"I don't get Hope, I personally would LOVE Raphael to lock me in chains in his basement and do whatever he wants to me <3".

That was undeniably you. Was that what attracted Raphael to you? Is that what he came for?

A sudden epiphany dawned on you: you were far more vanilla than you had let on. Especially on the first date. You didn't want it to turn into a basement horror story. Well, maybe you did, but only if it went exactly according to your script (which categorically did not involve non-consensual rough anal sex), in the kind of basement you liked (stylishly infernal rather than Josef Fritzl one) and with thorough aftercare and lavish praise. 

You weren't entirely convinced that this vision was in line with Raphael's preferences. You were not entirely sure what those preferences truly were, for that matter.

You scrubbed all traces of the fanfic from your browsing history and briefly toyed with the idea of posting something along the lines of 'GET THERAPY YOU SICK FUCK' in the comments - just to make sure Raphael knew exactly where you stood on the matter. 

What you need to do is search for fanfics tagged with phrases like "Raphael spoils Tav with gifts and sweet nothings", "gentle" and "teeth-rotting fluff".

"And then she said, Anya... guess what, she said..."

***

Tuesday was the third day without a call. 

If he did not call today, you decided, you would go to that bloody law firm to drag him out of a conference room and if he was not there, well... you might do the unspeakable.

You might rob the House of Hope for the first time in your life. A woman who has not been called by her favourite devil for three days in a row is a woman in severe mental crisis.

After spending some time day-dreaming your revenge, you finally reach for your phone while still lying in bed.

There were notifications waiting for you, not the ones you wanted. The Raphael romance petition (which you’d passionately signed thrice, using different IPs) had triumphed. The new update included a post-credits dinner and something extra.

The fandom was thrown into chaos upon hearing this announcement (though, truthfully, any news tended to do that). Fans heatedly argued about whether it was pandering, too much fan service, whether it trivialized victims of sexual assault or if it was simply bad taste.

The discord channel buzzed with chatter about that new scene - some dismissed it as too vanilla; others lamented that Larian backtracked on Raphael being a bottom; while some celebrated it as the best thing since Andrew Wincott had cooed "good girl" on a live stream.

In different circumstances, you would be overjoyed and congratulating dmgdgoods for the success of the petition. But now? It felt like cold leftovers in comparison to what you truly craved - seeing Raphael in person, feeling his touch and his breath against your skin.

Regardless, you decided to get ONE bloody dinner you had been promised.

To your dismay, your boss chose today, of all days, to make you work and make you hate your work. You had four useless conference calls during eight working hours, each one an hour apart. 

The clock on your computer seemed trapped within some diabolical time warp.

You’d bring an audience with you, you thought as you absent-mindedly typed emails. That’s right, you’d bring an audience. 

If Raphael decides to talk to you through the screen, well, there would be your solid proof you were not crazy - and a digital trace - and a message to the whole world that it was you, you, who were his special mouse among the thousands that would rush to House of Hope tonight.

If he doesn't, well… he isn’t calling you either.

You dropped everything the minute the clock struck five, and lectured the rest of your remaining team about the importance of work-life balance and the toxicity of corporate greed. 

Then you fired up Twitch.

The witnesses, a twenty-strong user mob, were summoned from across the communities you were in; some you knew, some you guessed who it might be, and a couple of random users.

The House of Hope stood ready. 

In the main hall, a table was set for two, draped in red velvet with silver candelabras and a centrepiece of blood-red roses; Larian clearly knew their audience - those who craved Raphael Romance would also enjoy a side dish of gothic horror.

This notion you would subscribe to.

"Ah, my little mouse," Raphael's voice crept into your ears the moment Tav teleported into his domain. "I've been expecting our rendezvous."

His tone was molten honey and made you forget for a moment your annoyance at his lack of calls. 

Archdevils Supreme were, after all, notorious workaholics.

Raphael was in his cambion form, which you liked, but preferred the human one. Like this, he would barely fit into your room - how tall was he? Two ten? Two twenty? Your ceilings were two twenty. One flap of those wings could destroy your bookshelf. 

The Twitch chat room was quiet; you threw out a test message that elicited a few half-hearted responses. Still there, good.

"I owe you, little mouse," Raphael continued in that rich baritone that brought back memories of the coffee shop. "I owe you your unwavering loyalty. Your commitment. Your trust."

Raphael paused for dramatic effect before adding: "I appreciate those who deal fairly with me, because I have only dealt fairly with you."

His words eerily echoed a recent essay you'd written; it brought a smile to your face as you reached out to touch him.

cross_my_heart: are you touching your screen? cross_my_heart: jeez man cross_my_heart has left the chat

Your Tav, a drow warlock (whom you imagined as Raphael's personal warlock), was wearing her most "why-am-I-here" expression, arms crossed over her chest. It drove you mad, that standard #2 emotion.

Then they ate; clunky, clearly afterthought animations rehashed from Karlach's date dinner. The food they were served (meat, meat, lots of meat) made your stomachs ache (you had been on a crash diet in the irrational hope of slimming down for the rendezvous).

"You were the one who gave me the Crown of Karsus. You gave me the power to claim worlds, my little mouse, even your own." He paused before adding, "You hung on my every word, spread my vision... Every time we played, you offered the crown. My most loyal little acolyte".

A thrill of anticipation ran through you; he must be deviating from his usual script. He was now speaking directly to you.

luxaeterna: haha cool meta stuff luxaeterna: the game is probably checking to see if you have any save games where you killed him luxaeterna: and judging by the way you just stroked the screen (lol) you don't

"Come, my little mouse," Raphael beckoned. "Come and claim your reward. What is it that your heart desires?"

Your eyes scanned the four options presented to you:

1. Wealth beyond measure.

2. Godlike power.

3. Eternal youth.

4. You, Raphael.

"Well," you said aloud with a smile as your cursor hovered over option 4 (the only logical choice), "I'm not sure about immeasurable wealth, but an extra grand wouldn't hurt.” 

You wouldn't know what to do with godlike power anyway, and you were too young to dream of eternal youth.

A message appeared in the right-hand corner of your screen: GUESTUSER43214 donated €1,000.

You gasped. 

Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. 

He was here. Raphael was watching you play with Raphael, which was the most Raphael thing that ever happened.

And he'd just given you a damn grand for nothing, with a simple click of his fingers - virtual numbers to him, but very real to you. 

You licked your lips with excitement. Easy money. The easiest money ever, for a joke and a smile. Tax free too. Is that how the girls at OnlyFans feel? 

papa johnes: holy fuck why didn't you ask for a million papa johnes: reload and ask for a million! DEVIL CREAMPIE: WOW WOW WOW  luxaeterna: is this a prank?  DEVIL CREAMPIE: SUGAR DADDY DEVIl

Would he give you more if you asked for it? Perhaps. Perhaps more than you could possibly imagine, enough to make all the worries disappear, but all in due time; that was not what you were craving from him at the moment.

luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 are you Raph are you Raph Raph is it you? luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 I can also stroke the screen for a thousand where do I sign up?

The user did not reply, but Raphael in-game did as soon as you clicked on "You and only you".

He walked up to your Tav and embraced her; tenderly, carefully, his clawed hands tracing the back of her spine. She looked frightened. 

Well, she only had so many expressions.

"You've always had a knack for making wise decisions," he purred in her ear. "It's one of your many talents, my dear. And once again you've chosen wisely. Now, how may I indulge you?"

papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION 

1. Fulfil my every dark fantasy. 

2. Let me put you on a leash and show you what pleasure is, devil.

3. Aren't you only bedding Haarlep?

4. Thanks, I'll pass. Haarlep has told me I’d be well advised to indulge elsewhere.

luxaeterna: Fulfil my every DARK fantasy lol who wrote this stuff a horny intern on her lunch break papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION GODDAMNIT

You briefly contemplated if you wanted Haarlep to join and thought that’s something you would save for later, so you went for the horny intern option.

"I will make all your fantasies come true," Raphael promised, as he stood up from his seat and approached Tav. "The ones you're aware of and those yet to be discovered. But for what comes next, little mouse, I prefer us to be alone. No prying eyes."

The game gave you three options to choose from: 

1. Yes, Raphael

2. Yes, Master

3. Yes, of course

luxaeterna: I think there might be an option missing  DEVIL CREAMPIE: lol any colour you like as long as it’s black right Raph

You nodded, chose “Yes, Raphael”, and got an immediate response:

Connection to Twitch lost. You clicked around, but the servers seemed to be shut down. Huh, you thought, Raphael can control Twitch servers. He could use it as a tool of mass indoctrination.

A deep sigh slipped from your lips. 

It was just the two of you now. 

But you wouldn't leave without proof. You pressed escape and positioned your phone camera on the highest shelf, angling it to capture everything that transpired on screen.

Raphael pulled Tav in a kiss the moment you resumed the game, something clearly modelled after Ascended Astarion kiss, with him standing, her seated, looking tiny in comparison to him. His clawed hand grasped her ebony neck and gave it a light squeeze. His expression was perfect - possessive, dark, animalistic, hers was screaming “I am about to shit myself” and completely out of place.

You are a Lolth-Sworn and a Bhaalspawn, Tav! What the bloody hell are you scared about? He should be scared of you!

"You taste ambrosial, my little mouse," Raphael whispered into Tav's ear. "I've lived thousands of years and never tasted anything better."

She doesn’t, you thought bitterly, she tastes like nothing but code, but I do, I do! 

Your hand traced up your neck mimicking Raphael's touch on Tav's skin and squeezed lightly. The pain made you aware of the bitter resentment against your own avatar - Raphael invited her, dined with her, was about to fuck her, not you, and it could be you now, should be you, not some character you cooked in an hour in the character creator. 

She didn’t do shit but follow your orders. It was you who ordered her to give him the Crown.

Next, Raphael shoved the dishes and the cutlery to the floor and gently laid Tav onto the dining table, positioning himself between her thighs. At first glance, it looked like they'd used Halsin's animation from a different angle until you saw his forked tongue glide across Tav's pixel-perfect hairless pussy, sliding in and out of her.

She did one of those high-pitched, perfectly fake screams that made your blood boil and that was exactly the reason you never watched mainstream porn. 

The very next gameplay your Tav is jumping off a very high cliff.

Tav threw her head back and moaned, the hair that should have fallen down remaining perfectly in place in her braid. It made it look fake the way video game sex sequences look fake, plastic dolls smashed against each other.  Every woman in Faerun and Earth would grab his horns and hold on tight, but no, Tav was not animated to do so.

At least Raphael looked real, every second more so, so you focused on him, and his eyes, and his face glistening in candlelight and Tav’s juices.

There was no way Larian would make it so explicit, a thought that floated in the back of your mind. Can’t be right. The moans, the animations, the visceral, explicit arousal - his and hers. Can’t be right. 

No way you’d be stopping to cross-check, either.

So, you watched Tav writhing under the devil's tongue, slipping your hand under your t-shirt, pulling aside the black lacy bra you'd recently bought for him and caressing your hardening nipples. 

You couldn't help yourself.

You wanted him, his lips on your pussy, your hands around his horns, you wanted to come onto his mouth, to grind around his cock like a fish caught on a hook.

But all you could do was stare, the pulsing of your clit in perfect rhythm with your heartbeats.

Raphael was looking at you, at you specifically, just like in the cafe. He grabbed one of Tav's legs by the ankle and lifted it high into the air as she arched her back in pleasure. The other leg was slightly spread, offering a view of your avatar's glistening pussy, which you couldn't care less about, unlike the ribbed, red, engorged cock between Raphael's legs, impressive enough to both arouse and frighten. 

He must taste so good. The very thought made your mouth water.

You shoved your fingers under your jeans, feeling the zipper scrape against them till it hurt, but you couldn't care less.

Fuck her, you muttered aloud as you rubbed yourself. Or better still, call me and fuck me. 

As if he could hear you (he could he could he definitely could), Raphael hoisted Tav’s ankles onto his shoulders and rammed into her with the force that would have been painful in reality but looked mesmerising on the screen. 

Hard, sure thrusts, sliding in and out, looking at you all that time, his mouth tightening in a sardonic smile. The promise in his eyes. The promise of all he could give and the promise of a hell of a price to pay. Despite all your fear for him, and because of it, you wanted him even more.

Tav screamed her cry again, exactly the same vocal line, her symmetrical, round, cookie-cutter breasts bouncing to the rhythm dictated by Raphael.

It’s me next time, you pleaded. Make it me. I deserve it. I’ll make it worth your while. Please.

Raphael moaned, loudly, like no man you've ever been with moaned - no man you've ever been with could pull off a moan like that - wild, lustful, deep, shameless. You have to talk like him to pull that off. You have to look like him.

You have to be that silver-tongued devil.

"You are mine. I owe you, my precious little mouse" Raphael said to Tav, hovering over her, folding her in two (would you be that flexible?).  "Be my good girl and say it." 

This is exactly the kind of talk you wanted from him, exactly the kind of talk that made your pussy throb, that made you click on everything with 'maledom' in it in a split second.  Such a shame you could see so little, had to imagine so much, their parts were barely visible in this position.

"I am yours," you whispered breathlessly, pinching your nipple as you plunged your fingers deep inside you. "I am your good girl. I am your little mouse. I am!”

Tav said nothing and Raphael raised his hand over her face. Slap her, you urged, hurt her, slap her hard, but he didn't, instead running his fingers through her snow-white hair and you moaned in frustration and pleasure.

This man brings out the worst in you.

Your pussy clenched around your fingers, a little moan escaped your lips and you bored into them, pretending it was his cock ramming into you. You would get the Devil's Dick from under the bed if you could just tear yourself away from the screen for a moment. 

You were right on the edge, so close, closer. Your eyes were fixed on Raphael's face, desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of his cock as he thrust one final time before the screen slowly faded to black.

"NO!" you screamed in frustration. "COME BACK! I'M NOT DONE YET!"

The scene changed to both of them lying on a crimson bed. You closed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth.

Of course, you could have used your imagination to fill in the rest, but you were tired of pretending. You craved the real thing - flesh against flesh, hot breath, his scent, beads of sweat, and taste of saliva, his saliva. Not just porn or smut or audio recordings – the actual physical experience. Sex that you had never had because all you knew was awkward fumbling and elbows tangling in your hair and ‘ugh do you really want me to talk dirty this is so weird’.

You would do anything to fuck him now. Bring me that damn contract, I'll sell my soul for a good fuck. Give me the fucking paper, Raphael, give it to me now.

You reluctantly pulled your sticky fingers away from your aching pussy and cursed under your breath. How many times did Raphael ruin the mood already? Cruel, sadistic, cold-hearted fiend, damned hellish beast. 

You wanted a different kind of torment.

"Raphael, you better call me," you growled at the screen. "Or I swear I'll come to your house, snatch your hammer, end you and..."

Your threat was cut off by a ring of the doorbell.

"Metaphorically speaking," you hastily added as the doorbell chimed again, more insistently this time.

The memory of blood blisters on guy's lips for lesser offences was still fresh in your mind.

"You promised you'd knock on my door, not ring," you muttered to yourself, feeling a tinge of fear run through your body. "And again... metaphorically speaking!"

The doorbell rang once more, louder and angrier than before. You wiped your slick fingers on a napkin and quickly adjusted your clothing before cautiously approaching the door.

A quick glance through the peephole revealed something red outside. But you didn't dare take a second look.

Your palm found its way to the cool metal of the doorknob. This was it, wasn't it? The moment where a stupid girl opens the wrong door at the wrong time and gets clawed to death.

Behind the door stood a teenage boy, around fourteen or fifteen years old, with acne and an ill-fitted t-shirt, casually chewing gum. He looked at you as if you were the one disturbing his peace all along.

"Why the hell were you buzzing my door like a maniac?" you asked.

He thrust a bouquet of red roses towards you without much ceremony. It was heavier than you thought. 

"I have a special delivery for you, ma'am" he announced.

"Why did you buzz my door like that?" you asked again, irritated.

"I get an extra hundred if I deliver these today. I was pissed that you weren't home," he replied with casual indifference.

"You can't just do that to people, you little shit," you shot back.

"Whatever, sue me, bitch," he retorted before walking away with a shrug and one last jab: "And zip up your fly."

You flipped him off, your fly still splayed open. It was funny how not too long ago, such a comment would have mortified and flustered you.

But now, being a bit (okay, a lot) crazy has its perks.

The bouquet he gave you was exactly the type that you used to mock in high school when the popular girls would flaunt their dozens of roses on social media. Over-the-top, showy, just plain vulgar in its excessiveness. How many were there? A hundred? At least. 

You absolutely loved it.

You loved the note attached even more. 

"Apologies for my silence. Had urgent matters to attend to. I promise to make amends and cannot wait to see you again -R."

Oh, and a box of Ladurée macarons which you never tried but you couldn't take your eyes off of them through the window of the shop! 

As if on cue, an incoming call lit up your phone screen. No Caller ID. You clutched the bouquet tighter and hurriedly answered.

“Thank you so much”, you said, momentarily hating the simpering, saccharine voice you adopted. “What a coincidence, just received your flowers”.

"It's hardly a coincidence," Raphael replied calmly. "They sent me an email notification."

You let out a small laugh at the mention of the "e-mail". It seemed like Raphael was still playing the “no, no, it’s not me Raphael the cambion, I just look like him” game. Whatever the hell for?

"You've had my home address this whole time, haven't you, Raphael?" you asked. "Why did you ask then?"

There was a moment of tense silence on the other end of the line, and you could sense Raphael's anger without even seeing him. 

One wrong sentence and everything could shift between the two of you in a split second. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he responded with firmness in his tone:

"It’s one thing you didn’t ask for my name - which I found impolite, but I can forgive a beautiful woman many things. Calling me another man’s name? That's something I will not tolerate."

You blinked in confusion as you read the note in your hand: "I cannot wait to see you again. -R".

"I'm sorry," you stammered, "Your note..."

He laughed. Soft, charming laugh of a rich and successful man perfectly content with his life. 

"Raul, at your service. Raul d'Avergni, if you're interested in doing some research in your free time."

"Raul?", you asked. It was not an ugly name, but it was foreign, mundane and not diabolical enough for your taste. It made you think of a Spanish soap opera, not of Avernus.

"That's right," he replied calmly. "Italian, in case you were wondering. From west of Pozzuoli. Not exactly a place you would be familiar with."

You couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the comment, even though you indeed had no clue where Pozzuoli was.

"Oh," you replied. "I hadn't noticed an accent."

"I would hope not, considering how much my father spent sending me to Eton," Raphael (you won’t call him otherwise, no) joked, although his voice tensed up at the mention of his father. 

Great, now Mephistopheles is here too? Did you accidentally invite all of Hells?

"I will be there by eight to collect you," he said very matter—of—factly.

You checked your Apple Watch and saw that it was only an hour away.

"Tonight?" you inquired.

"Do you have any other arrangements?" 

No, of course not. I've been waiting for your call this whole time, you wanted to make a joke before you realised it was no joke and therefore not really funny.

"No... none," you admitted. "Where are we headed tonight? Should I dress up?"

Or it wouldn’t matter because I would end up in a garbage bag and a “missing” poster?

You could hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"You definitely should dress up," he said, his tone flirtatious again. "We are heading somewhere special. It might be a little unconventional for common taste, but I assure you, you'll love it. See you very soon."

He hung up before you could ask for more details on what kind of unconventional thing he had in mind. As you tried to calculate your chances of survival for this unconventional event and what exactly was considered unconventional by infernal standards, the odds seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

Would they even find your body?

It suddenly struck you that 'Raul' never bothered to explain how he knew where you lived, and you still didn't have his phone number to call him back. This realisation prompted you to do something you hadn't done since childhood: call your mum twice in one day.

The only person you could trust to hunt down a devil.

"Mum? I have plans tonight. I'm going out with a man named Raul de… de… oh, God, Avergni or something. Yes, write down his name and look him up on Google. If I don't call you until tomorrow..."

"What do you mean by tomorrow?" your mother interrupted sharply. "Are you planning on spending the night with him?"

You were hoping to spend the night with him!

"I'm twenty-seven, Mum."

“Anya, you know better than to sleep with a man on the first date. Men are hunters, and if you give in too easily, they will lose interest. Trust me, I've been through it all before…”

You clench your jaw as she continues to lecture you on how to catch, tame, and keep a man.

"Mum?" you interject.

"Yes?"

"Did it work with my father?”

Your mother let out an exasperated sigh and switched to her "I have the worst daughter in the world" voice.

"I hope you have a nice evening, but please remember to call me when you get home TONIGHT."

As you showered, dressed, moisturised your face and hands and tried to style your hair, you couldn't help but think of Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic. After all, she looked good dead, so you should too.

The marks of your own fingertips were still visible on your neck. You quickly covered them with concealer and briefly recalled a distant memory of cutting yourself as a teenager.

Why had you cut yourself? The reason was foggy in your mind, as was the pain, but you remembered the bitterness and loneliness. You didn't want to die, but you wanted something else - something you didn't have, or someone who could give it to you.

Being suicidal must be a package deal with being crazy. 

Your phone buzzed. The thing with your mother, she gets distracted too easily to remain offended for long. And you provided her with excellent food for distraction.

is he the managing partner of the law firm?

oh my god

ANYA, THE KING OF PENTACLES.

they write “not married” on the website, god bless

he must have so much money, Anya, so much money.

so handsome

no offence love but how on earth did you manage it

(ah that’s why you were cutting yourself)

we can live with him being Italian, I think.

at least he is Catholic.

please wear black, it suits your figure.

remember POSITIVE thinking.

(Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic)

send me a picture when you are ready. OK? love

wear a cross too 

A cross? You let out a laugh. Unlike your mother, you were consistent in your beliefs. Catholic school was the perfect environment for raising atheists. Ever since you were a teenager, you had been against that rotten, bloody institution, full of pedos, crooks and who knows what else. 

If this was God's team, then you proudly allied yourself with the devil.

As you ranted internally against the church, you suddenly remembered that you now had some freshly made solo porn on your phone that needed to be deleted immediately. 

Not before you give it a little watch.

You wish you hadn't, you thought as it started to play. A high-quality video of you choking in front of a black screen, your hands clutching your throat with a fervour you didn't even know you possessed. A reflection of your face on the laptop: possessed, sickly, rapt. Moans escaping your lips as you pant, hands roaming all over your body, little tremors of excitement... at nothing.

A black screen.

You immediately deleted the video from your phone. If it proved anything, it was that you were gone. Far gone. Off the deep end. The way you moaned, salivating at the mouth, Christ almighty (Christ had nothing to do with it)...

Knock-knock.

Well, that was Raphael. You could tell by the simple knock. It was soft and polite, modest yet assertive; but he wouldn't wait long for you to open the door, so you had to be quick.

Knock-knock.

Your gaze drifted to the ornate golden cross, the crucifix in the centre; suffering, redemption, salvation, deliverance from evil and all the shit you did not believe in. 

In fact, you didn't believe in devils either. 

Besides, a cross won't help against the devils of Baator.

Then again, it wouldn't hurt.

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event

[keyotosprompts]

intro + masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖

hi everyone! i'm tana. this is my side blog (main is @/keyotos) and i hope u guys enjoy the prompts i put out here.

little bit abt me ↓

i'm 18 & vietnamese

i'm a writer

i flow in and out of inactivity

regarding prompts ↓

use my prompts w/ credit (just @ me)!

um plz don't use my prompts for dark content

okay that's all! requests are closed and i hope u guys like my prompts!

masterlist ↡

from newest to oldest!

fluff

⇸ snap a picture, bring it on

prompts for when you're utterly obsessed w/ someone

⇸ you're the thoughts that can't be tamed

prompts to build tension

⇸ we were somewhere else

established relationship dialogue prompts

⇸ taking this moment with me

mutual crush prompts

⇸ only falling in love

childhood friends to lovers prompts

⇸ love is like a lottery

cute prompts between two partners

⇸ all the time, all of mine

affection prompts (slightly suggestive)

⇸ in between

jealousy prompts

⇸ i'd give you everything

acts of service prompts

⇸ sweet nothing

domestic prompts

⇸ yk i'm such a fool for you

mutual pining prompts

angst

⇸ you see me like a ufo (that's like never)

angsty assorted relationship prompts (platonic/romantic)

misc/writing help

⇸ curse you out or take you back to my house

alternates to popular tropes

⇸ love's possessing me

variations of popular tropes + a ton of microtropes

⇸ mask off

superhero unmasking prompts + how to write superhero unmasking

[max1461]

What’s the deal with Basque. It’s a language isolate but are the Basque people like an “ethnic isolate”? Are the Basque people significantly genetically different than neighboring peoples? Is there any particular reason everyone else in Europe was either exterminated or assimilated by the Indo-Europeans, at least to the point that they adopted IE languages—but not the Basques?

Regarding genetics, I can't really say. Genetics is way outside my area of expertise, and looking online it doesn't appear that there's a real consensus. It appears that the general picture is that they have some amount of local hunter-gatherer ancestry and some amount of admixture from steppe populations, which is qualitatively the same as the rest of Europe. They may have these things in different proportions(?) than other European populations, or something like that; it sounds like a number of the studies disagree with each other. I think I'd have to have a better understanding of human genetics in general to give a more confident assessment of what is going on.

Linguistically speaking, Basque is the only non-IE language spoken in Western Europe today (Uralic languages, such as Finnish and Hungarian, are spoken in Eastern Europe, although they are probably later arrivals to the region than even IE), but it is not the only non-IE spoken in Western Europe within recorded history. The collective name for the languages spoken in the Iberian peninsula before the Roman conquest is the paleo-Iberian or Paleohispanic languages; of these, several were not Indo-European. Aquitanian in particular is generally identified as a direct ancestor of Basque. But there were also others, scantily attested, that may or may not have been related. These existed alongside Continental Celtic languages in the region.

There was also Etruscan, in Italy, which was non-IE. Etruscan civilization largely predated the Romans in the area and was highly influential on them; the Latin alphabet is principally adapted from the Etruscan alphabet (itself adapted from Greek), and Latin borrowed a number of words from Etruscan. Some of these have even made their way into English, for instance the very common word person, from Latin persōna "mask", possibly from Etruscan phersu "mask".

Anyway, whether or not any of these languages represent holdovers of the pre-IE linguistic environment in Europe is hard to say. For instance, some have argued that the Etruscans or their ancestors were actually late arrivals from somewhere south, possibly Anatolia. But I don't think there is any conclusive evidence for or against such ideas.

It is worth noting that ethnic and linguistic groupings very often don't align. Groups may remain ethnically distinct while adopting a majority language, or may remain linguistically distinct while losing a sense of ethnic identity, and so on. So genetic studies are often-useful-but-highly-imperfect proxies for linguistic relatedness, and vice versa. For instance, most of the "Negrito" peoples of South East Asia are highly genetically distinct from neighboring populations, but many of them speak Aslian languages related (distantly) to Vietnamese and Khmer. These languages are clearly distinct, but should not be misunderstood as holdovers predating the spread of genetically East Asian people to the region.

My understanding is that the evidence regarding Basque points to it being as pre-IE holdout in Western Europe. However, this need not say much about the genetics of the Basque people.

In any case, as to the question of "why" it held out when other pre-IE languages disappeared? I think it's kind of impossible to say. Presumably the mountainous and isolated nature of the Basque Country played a role; indeed all the studies I looked at seemed to say that genetically Basque people showed signs of isolation within the last thousand years or so, suggesting that they did not have as much contact with other European populations. But, beyond that, if you look at the fact that other pre-IE (or at least non-IE) languages survived in Western Europe until the historical period (Etruscan and some paleo-Iberian), it is perhaps not so surprising that at least one of them would make it to the modern day. Basque looks like a complete outlier now, but going back even 2000 years and there were a number of other languages in its position. In some sense the Indo-European migration into Europe was "not that long ago", on archeological timescales, so perhaps things like this are to be expected.

[incorrectbatfam]

What do the Goofy Gooners look like .. asking for a friend …

Rob is a tired dad with an inferiority complex. He doesn't put much effort into his appearance because basic hygiene already saps a lot of his energy. He has reddish-brown hair that he keeps short for convenience and doesn't shave as often as he should, so there's always a thin layer of stubble. I picture him to be around 33 but stress makes him look older. He usually wears the same basic t-shirts and cargo pants—a polo would be fancy for him. He's on the underweight side because he frequently skips meals so his kids and Milo have enough. He also has random tattoos scattered over his arms plus one on his leg and neck. They don't mean anything, just dumb stuff he got when he was younger, including a winking emoticon and the Pillsbury doughboy.

Blaise is 26 and you can tell he's a stoner from the get-go. He has dirty blonde hair that he grows out but hardly maintains, and the same level of effort goes for his clothes. He often wears things he finds in dumpsters or thrift stores and chooses comfort over style. His clothes have lots of hidden pockets for lighters, firecrackers, and weapons. He's tall and lanky, which makes living out of Milo's car in the parking lot awkward (Rob offered his apartment but he declined). Similar to Rob, Blaise also has a number of meaningless tattoos plus several piercings. He also plays the guitar and keeps his lucky pick on a necklace.

Kellin is a 20-year-old originally hailing from Thailand. Their assassin parents trained them in gymnastics, martial arts, and various weaponry from a young age in hopes that Kellin would follow in the family's footsteps and join the League of Assassins. That obviously didn't work out and they traveled around as an independent hitman (hitperson?) for a couple years before they landed in Gotham. They're always battle-ready—if they could shower in their assassin uniform they would. They changed their name and keep their hair just long enough to mask their face. They're fluent in English, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Arabic, but they prefer to let their actions speak for them instead.

Molly is a 25-year-old trans woman who incorporates her jobs as a drug dealer, team strategist, and nightclub DJ in a single look. She has long dark hair dyed with neon streaks but ties it up when fighting. She's not the most formidable combatant but she has basic fighting skills and is very calculative. Her primary weapon is a metal baseball bat, inspired by her favorite anti-hero, Harley Quinn. She also has a belt equipped with her experimental chemicals and smoke pellets. However, she's not allowed to pair up with Blaise on missions because it's an open secret that the two of them can't focus around each other.

Otto is a war veteran and car mechanic around the same age as Alfred, but that's where the similarities end. He's been wearing the same mechanic's uniform for the past four decades, the only differences between then and now being his hair thinning, a couple front teeth falling out, and acquiring a beer gut. His arms are covered in scabs and scars from the job and he's had trouble with his right knee ever since the army. On the surface he seems like a Boomer yelling at kids to get off his lawn, but he's more like a stern but well-intentioned grandpa who is disappointed to see nothing much has changed over the years.

Milo is your standard 15-year-old delinquent. He's slightly small for his age and doesn't pack that big of a punch on his own, but put him behind the wheel and he's a total menace. When he's not driving, he keeps himself stimulated with video games or his collection of keychains (his favorite is purple bat because of his puppy crush on Spoiler). His look is reminiscent of early 2000s skater punks, including a bright red mohawk and his trusty headphones. Everything he owns, minus his car, fits into a single backpack. His weapon, on the rare occasion Rob lets him on the front line, is a batarang he found on the street.

Gene is someone you would never expect to have so many issues because on the outside he looks like an average 40-year-old glasses-wearing office worker. He has short sandy hair and dark circles under his eyes from nightmares. His meds help a lot, but sometimes he's still seen pacing around and muttering to himself. He's not a danger anymore compared to the past, which is why Rob trusts him enough to share an apartment. Gene focuses his nervous energy into his research and tinkering instead, amassing a comedic collection of hyperspecific gadgets.

Mac is basically the guy in the chair. He's 30 and has thick glasses, thick curly brown hair, a thin goatee, and almost exclusively wears flannel. His nails are down to a nub because he bites them when concentrating. He's also often seen with chips or an energy drink in his hands and wears a jailbroken smart watch. Of the team, he has the least physical prowess but the most brain power. He doesn't see combat often but keeps a pistol in case. He turned an old ice cream truck into his home/mobile office so he can plug in anywhere. Like Kellin, he's also not from Gotham, but instead Fawcett City and has a distinct Minnesota accent.

Booker is a 19-year-old Gotham U student and the third member of the team's Glasses Trio. He's an intelligent guy slated to graduate a year early and thus needs his internship credits sooner. He's very polite (albeit a little socially awkward) and puts his best foot forward by coming into work with slacks and fun patterned suspenders even though he doesn't have to. His hair has a slightly uneven fade because his sister insisted on practicing on him for cosmetology school, so he covers it with a fedora. He carries his things in a laptop bag and has an enthusiastic bounce in his step that only newbies would have.

Jackie and Gunner are Rob's 6-year-old twins (Jackie being 8 minutes older) and are the babies of this hodgepodge family. Jackie takes after her late mother with frizzy black hair usually tied in pigtails. She loves wearing pink, reads way above her level, and is a horse girl in that she wants one to stomp on the people she doesn't like. Gunner looks more like his dad, though his hair is a little messier and overgrown. He hates school but loves dirt and monster trucks. Both of them have a troublesome streak but Jackie's a little better at hiding it. They quarrel like siblings do but at the end of the day, they always stick up for each other.

[ideaofheaven]

— LESS SUGAR (onew x reader)

Synopsis: A playful first impression with a certain shining idol in your own coffee shop takes your life into an interesting turn. A merge of two worlds, you never expect Jinki to provide you company and comfort. But he does, all the while ordering lattes and pastries.

Pairing: Lee Jinki x fem!reader

Genre: coffee shop!au, idol!Jinki, fluff (like, lots of fluff), piniiiing, angst, smut

Word count: 17376 words (lmao its a SLOW burn)

Warnings: sakura jinki!! (Yeah it’s a warning), mentions of diet, implied depressive episodes, heavy make out, vaginal fingering, Jinki big dick agenda, domsub undertones, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie (careful folks), minors dni!

AN: Happy 525 everyone! What other perfect timing to celebrate my love for SHINee’s leader. But actually, I wrote this one almost 2 years ago now?? And I thought yeah no way this will stay in drafts forever. I just need a sweet fic for dearest Jinki, you know? Please enjoy!

+++

You empty a box of newly arrived goods. After a few considerations, maybe you should’ve arranged the displays at night when you have more time instead of in the mornings before you open the store. But they look fine as it is; the coffee grounds are lined up neatly, and the rustic decors compliment them well. Deciding the shop is all ready, you check the time. It’s only a few minutes before 7 o’clock, so you flip the wooden sign from ‘close’ to ‘open’.

Almost a year has passed since you opened your own cafe. The journey wasn’t a walk in the park. From the loans, experimenting in your apartment kitchen, and the amount of time and energy spent gathering the resources. But you made it, now owning a small cafe that can house up to fifteen customers. Often perceived as a friendly person, you managed to gather a handful of regulars.

The bell chimes, and you turn to see your regular coming in through the door. “Good morning, Eunmi!” You chirp, before noticing her gloomy visage. “You look particularly bright today. The usual?”

The regular, Eunmi, is a working woman who lives nearby with her husband. She sighs before nodding. "I only slept for a couple of hours.” She drags herself to the counter. “Do you remember that co-worker I told you about?”

She rambles on, complaining about this and that while you tinker with your coffee machine. Occasionally you laugh, but you mostly take your time to listen. Eunmi is the one who requested you to open the store earlier. Not having any problem with mornings, you happily oblige. Ever since, with a raging need for someone to vent to and a caffeine boost, she visits daily.

“You should take a day off,” you advise while finishing off the beverage. You grab the paper cup carefully, gesturing to Eunmi who’s still sitting down. “One almond caffe mocha to go.”

“I’ll think about it,” she murmurs tiredly as she gets up, dragging herself to her coffee. “I’m off, then. Thanks for the drink!”

With a wave, she leaves the cafe. There goes your early morning regular. You go back to your favorite pastime, rearranging the items on your shelf. You are contemplating putting the house blend on the front counter to replace the Vietnamese Arabica when the door chimes. Delighted, you shout, “Welcome!”

A man walks in hesitantly. At that moment, you can't possibly recognize him. He wears a mask and a baseball hat. The hoodie and the dark jeans make him appear like one of the people from your neighborhood. 

What you notice is that he’s a new customer, and his eyes are... pretty.

You push the last thought aside and switch to your customer service mode. “Here’s the menu,” you gush, your voice sounding too pitchy to your ears. The man blinks at you before his gaze falls on the printed paper.

Your mind betrays you and chooses to zone in on the man before you. He’s tall. His dark brown hair stops above the nape of his neck with soft strands of fringe framing his defined heart-shaped face. Though it's hidden by the mask, you can see his high cheekbones. Despite that, you can’t help but focus on his hooded soft brown eyes.  From your place behind the counter, you’ve seen many attractive people. You noticed their neat makeup, their perfectly curled hair, their luscious lips, or the way they dress. Being attracted to someone’s eyes seems incredulous. But even his eyebrows look nicely groomed.

He lifts his gaze which inevitably meets yours. Your stomach lurches in embarrassment and you stupidly let out an “oh” before putting your best smile. Please don’t notice. “What would you like to order?”

If he notices, he doesn’t show any sign. “Can I have a brown sugar latte to go?” 

His voice sounds like the drink itself; warm, sweet, and syrupy. You perk up. “Great choice. Will that be all?” The man tilts his head, humming. Cute.

“Make it with an extra shot of espresso.” You’re already grabbing the pack of grounds when you respond with good humor, “Tough day ahead?” At that, he chuckles, low and bright at the same time. Warm and syrupy indeed. “Everyday is a tough day at work.”

You laugh, but perhaps the curiosity in your expression is too obvious, because the mysterious customer’s eyes crinkle with amusement. 

“It's tough work, but I love my job,” he says in what you perceive as teasing. 

“Sure, sure,” you snicker, now pouring measured liquid brown sugar into the paper cup. You’re confident in your coffee-making skills, and you can’t wait to hear his reaction. Maybe he can join your not-so-long list of regulars.

“Brown sugar latte with double shot.” You give him the paper cup. “Enjoy!”

Another eye crinkle smile grazes his covered face. With a closer look, there’s a slight jaw movement behind his mask. “Thank you very much,” he responds and you notice the formality. “By the way, do you happen to sell any food?”

You bite the insides of your mouth. “Yes, but I only stock them later,” you explain ruefully. “The bakery usually delivers the pastries at 9 o’clock. I apologize.” You bow and he immediately raises both of his hands, waving them frantically. 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. What do you have?”

“We have a selection of buns, scones, pound cakes, egg tarts,” you gush. “They’re all delicious. But I personally like their traditional pastries. Injeolmi, red bean rice cake, yakbap, fried tteok dumplings. Auntie does a great job every time.” 

Unlike other cafes that bake their own food, you work together with the local bakery that happens to make the best traditional pastries you’ve ever tried. You know they aren’t as popular as the more western pastries, but they always pull the older customers to your cafe, even becoming your regulars.

His eyebrows shoot up all of a sudden, “You have yakbap?” He asks in apparent surprise which you mirror excitedly. “Yes! Oh my god, do you like them?” He nods. “Would you like to try? I can have them stocked tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that too much trouble?”

"Of course not. But," you emphasize. "You have to come visit tomorrow morning. Promise?” The surge of boldness takes you out of nowhere. He’s just one customer who only bought one drink, but you can’t deny the urge to see him again. So when you saw the chance, you knew you had to take it.

“I will, I promise,” he chuckles and your worries melt away, swept away by the soothing voice of his promise.

+++

At 8 o’clock, the door chimes. You almost jump from behind the counter.

“Good morning,” the man from yesterday greets you with a small bow. Today he’s wearing a dark jacket over a simple tee. Without yesterday's baggy clothes, the outfit centers on his broad shoulders well. A mask is still in place, but now without the hat, you can see more of him. At least more of his soft-looking short brown hair. A surge of familiarity rushes through you. After a quick run through your memories, your mind comes up blank. You shrug off the thought but he’s faster to notice you zoning out.

“What? I promised, didn’t I?” He mumbles, and you respond with a small laugh, “You did.”

You usher him to the counter, pulling out a small basket. “Now here’s my end of the deal.”

“What’s all this?” He glances in the basket. Inside is a handful of pastries, covered neatly in plastic wrap. “There’s so many!” 

You smile proudly. “I asked the bakery for a sampler basket. So these are their best-sellers. We have a kaya bun, blueberry lemon scone, garlic basil bread, yakbap,” you wink, “fried tteok dumplings, and red bean rice cake.”

“Wait--”

“And I’ll give you a special price.” You send him another cheeky grin, and you feel triumphant when you see his resigned face.

“I didn’t expect you would prepare a whole basket… But thank you,” he sighs before breaking into one of his eye-smiles. It looks so familiar and the feeling starts to gnaw at you once more. Like reaching out to remember a dream, it feels close yet you can't come up with a name to associate his face with. You snap back to reality, hearing him say something in your direction. “Yes?”

“I’d like to have the drink from yesterday,” he states almost giddily. “It’s delicious. I thought it’d be too sweet.”

Oh. You cover a smile with the back of your hand, secretly proud of yourself. Elated, you lean in before you even know it, catching your customer's attention.

“Be sure to come back for more, then.” Right after the words leave your mouth, you recoil. You sound like you were flirting, and you don't flirt with customers.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do." You stare at him in surprise, seeing the teasing glint in his eyes. Flustered, your throat tightens.

“R-right. One brown sugar latte coming up.” Warm, sweet, syrupy… Sticky.

After finishing the latte with sprinkles of cinnamon powder on top, you put the plastic cap on and bring it to your only customer. The man is sitting in the corner, on one of the chairs that has its back on you. He's eating a piece of yakbap from a plastic wrapper when you approach the table. “Here’s-"

Perhaps, that day you forget that people eat with their mouths. Uncovered. In the end, nothing prepares you to witness the face behind the mask.

A few weeks ago, you were watching TV on your couch. One of your favorite dramas had just ended, so you were stuck watching a random variety show. Loud screams pierced your ears, making you jump so you checked the show. A couple of people were sitting at the table, and one of them, a handsome young man with light brown hair and lovely eyes, was reenacting his version of the famous Gwiyomi song. What a weird guy, you thought with a laugh while seeing him kiss each of his fingers just a little too passionately.

“- your drink,” you finish shakily. The new information almost freezes you in place but you put on your best (worst, stiff) customer service smile anyway. Defying another expectation, Onew - oh god, it is him - takes the paper cup from your hand. Your fingers touch briefly and you swear there's a jolt that tickles. The idol is staring at you with a hint of worry, indicating he knows the cat's out of the bag.

You should leave him be, he might be uncomfortable. But then, a sight of empty plastic wrappers catches your attention. "How's the food?" You inquire placidly. Creative.

The worry in his face dissipates very slightly and you realize how different he looks now without the mask. You can see the plump lips parting before he says, "You're right, they're so good."

The compliment somehow melts your worries. 

"Right? They taste exactly the same since I was a child. Auntie had just started baking the western pastries a few years ago, but she’s too tired to run the bakery full-time. So I thought having her pastries in my cafe would be perfect," you stop, internally scolding yourself for rambling all that to the celebrity, "I talk too much don't I?"

"You own this cafe?" The man asks instead, his mouth gaping and eyes wide. Adorable.

"Owner, barista, waitress, slash everything," you rub the back of your neck, pressured by the questioning gaze he has on you. Without his mask, he seems more intense. Or, you are subconsciously affected by his idol status. While this is not the first time you meet a celebrity from behind the counter, it is the first time you're engaged in conversation with them. Especially with someone of a high tier like him. Someone amazing.

"That's amazing." His voice echoes, jolting you back to reality

"What?" You sputter. He definitely notices you zoning out because his smile - you can see his mouth now, oh god - is too mischievous and knowing. This is getting too much.

Rigidly, you peek into the paperbag, noticing the amount of pastries left. "What are you going to do with them?" Onew looks at the paperbag before standing up and grabbing the bag. "I'll share them with people at work."

You step back with a laugh. "Do you think they'll like it?"

"I think they will. Well, some can't enjoy it due to… a strict diet. But one won't hurt." Onew takes his coffee in one hand, and the paperbag in the other. He raises both hands slightly, gesturing with the items. "Thank you. I'll be going now."

"No,” you begin tentatively, “Thank you, Onew." 

You internally pat yourself on the back for letting that out.

His ever so expressive eyebrows rise before he lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, isn't that unfair."

"What is?"

"I see you know my name already," he supplies, staring down at you with a pretty gummy smile. "But I don't know yours."

Heat rushes to your cheeks when his words sink into your brain. You would pray it wouldn't show but you find your tongue unable to form useful words. Instead, as an uncontrolled fight or flight reaction, it responds haughtily, "Come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you."

You curse the random unsolicited rush of courage. But Onew's surprised expression is already morphing into a half smirk, and you can't decide if you regret it.

"Deal. I'll see you tomorrow, miss."

Exactly one minute after the door closes, you curl up on the floor and let out a groan. What just happened?

+++

Jinki knows he shouldn't be doing this.

That morning, he woke up exactly three hours before his first schedule of the day. The warm sunlight tempted him to go for a jog, but the ache crawling through his body reminded him what a bad idea that was. The day before, the dance instructor had drilled them with another wild choreography, and in the morning, his joints were positively protesting.

So he took a walk. Enjoying the sunlight, he left the rows of high-rise apartments for the quiet residential complex. The bustle of the crowded market and gossipy house-wives felt like a calming noise, and he continued his walk until he turned one corner.

Nothing should've caught his attention, but everything did. The shop's facade of pale red bricks was a splash of color in between the other buildings. A couple of vintage lantern lamps decorated the shop, and there were wooden signs with intricate lettering on the wall and glass door. Jinki realized it was a coffee shop, a small one. There and then he thought he needed his caffeine, and the nearest Starbucks was blocks away. So he went in, met the cute barista, got a delicious latte, and left.

And ever since, he keeps coming back for more.

“Someone enjoys visiting this little place,” she laughs one morning, cocky and amused. It’s his visit for the third time in a row. Borrowing her high energy and boldness, he smirks in reply.

"You’re the one who asked me, though," he mentions, holding a small cup of her manual brew. A new house blend, she had mentioned. It has a subtle sweetness to it, which Jinki likes.

"Asked what?"

"To come back here." 

She chuckles, that rare hint of shyness surfacing once more. "I was just messing around."

But he wasn't, and back then, he would do anything to get to know her name. So the day after her request, Jinki returned. After an order of one brown sugar latte and five miscellaneous pastries, all to-go, Jinki sat down and propped his chin on top of his folded hands, waiting. His legs were fidgeting, a sign of anticipation and nervousness that he was well attuned with.

"Are you dining in?" She asked, probably feigning innocence, as she shuffled through various packets of coffee. What a tease.

"No," he responded curtly.

She moved away from the shelves to the edge of the counter, facing him. Oh, she's doing this on purpose. With a hand covering her mouth, she laughed silently. Jinki thought she shouldn't hide her laughter, or her smile, because it’s pretty and bright, just like her. 

"I'm sorry, I owe you something, don't I?" She asked sweetly, like those drinks she makes for him.

"Yes, you do." Jinki managed out, a crooked smile gracing his lips in a low effort intimidation.

"Okay, okay," she resigned. "You should make a habit of checking the bill, Onew."

Realization hit him and he rushed to pull the bill out of his pocket. There, written in neat handwriting, was a name. In awe, he said it once, testing it on his tongue—and he heard a crash.

"Oh--oops," she clambered to grab the fallen coffee packages. Jinki was wondering how attached this woman was to her coffee supply before he took a glance at her face. Pink tinted her cheeks and he wouldn't lie, it was a sight to see. Presumably annoyed, she was about to say something but Jinki just called her name once more, abruptly stopping her. So he raised his chin, taking a better look at the flustered barista with a satisfactory smile, “Everything okay back there?”

She nodded once before turning away, cheeks still flaming as she broke their eye contact. He just laughed. Cute.

Today, he finds himself once more in front of her store. Earlier, he found out Minho already had plans to visit his mother, and so, Jinki was left alone in the dorms. He's used to being alone in the apartment, but today he has a particular yearning to be somewhere else but home.

"Onew," she greets, ever so cheerful in the mornings. "The usual?"

Despite the merciless schedule in his line of work, Jinki hasn't met a lot of morning people. Especially the ones who are comfortable with an early schedule by nature. It took him years after debuting before his internal alarm worked properly. And after hundreds of cranky morning schedules, he finally could manage his mood well. She must have been born with the sun smiling upon her. Perhaps that is her destiny, to wake up effortlessly and share her energy through caffeinated beverages. Jinki has an urge to ask if she ever stays up late, maybe later.

"Actually, can I have an iced americano?" Jinki asks after a quick glance at the menu. This time he needs something with less sugar.

She is beaming, as usual. "Sure. But I recommend you drink it fast, it's warm outside—"

"I'm having it here." Jinki already grabs a seat, putting his bag and pulling out a book. Her expression is a mixture of confusion and delight. "...Is it okay?"

"Of course!" She exclaims all too fast before rushing to her tools.

An amicable silence stretches. Hisses and clamor from behind the counter occasionally fill the air, but otherwise it's quiet. After endless days in a loud environment, he appreciates the silence. He can’t remember the last time he sat still like this, without TV or a Youtube video to accompany him. He takes his book, a best-selling novel he picked up from the airport months ago during his work trip, and starts reading it. When his iced americano arrives, he thanks her properly and dives back into the story.

It's peaceful. At some point, she puts on music. Slow to medium-tempo songs in foreign languages, and it doesn't disrupt his reading, in fact, he enjoys it.

During his stay, customers come and go. He can't see them, because his back is facing the major part of the cafe. But he can hear them clearly. And interestingly, they talk a lot. One customer, a young girl, comes up to you, gets a large glass of iced chocolate milk, and proceeds to tell you about her crush. Another, an elderly man who apparently visits regularly, orders one hot barley tea and a red bean paste bun. Then he starts to give her updates on his newborn grandchild. Jinki hears her squeal before she asks for the man’s wife or daughter.

He finds all the interaction endearing, somehow.

"So, what's the occasion?"

The sun is now high up in the sky, signalling it's nearing noon. Jinki was feeling tiny pricks of hunger when she appeared near his table, a few tupperware in hand. "It gets lonely," she said cheekily. With each little talk they exchange, Jinki wonders why he didn’t ask her to sit here earlier, enjoying her company very much. And not before long, she offered some of her food to him, which he accepted with little resistance.

“You’ve never dined in before, what’s the occasion?”

Jinki takes one slice of rolled omelet with his chopsticks. "It's my day off," he answers.

"You have a day off, and you came here?" She looks up from her food and gapes at him. He nods.

"The apartment's empty, Minho is visiting his parents."

"It must be lonely."

"Not anymore,” he responds in earnest, and a grin emerges when he sees her fluster. Jinki is not a prideful person. He doesn’t absorb compliments like it’s his source of energy. However, knowing he can affect people like this, especially in such tight interaction, does boost his ego in a productive way. Additionally, he enjoys seeing her reaction. She’s very put together, confident, sometimes cheeky, but those rare moments when she gets caught off guard charm him. It’s like her fire turns into cotton candy, all cute and sweet.

Jinki can’t get enough of her.

“Is that one of your killer moves, Onew-ssi?” She says, hiding her strangled laugh by raising her chin with defiance. But he knows better. See? Charming.

He puts his chopstick down, and proceeds to lean his head on one knuckle. The gesture seems to affect her, because her smile falls and she’s blinking rapidly at him. “No, it’s not," he states before an idea pops into his head. "Call me Jinki."

Her mouth falls open. “What?”

“Please call me Jinki.”

He watches as she gapes wordlessly, like a cat got her tongue. In the end, she just nods softly, saying a quiet “Okay,” with a bashful whisper of his name. Hearing it, Jinki can’t help the giddiness bubbling inside him and a smug smile that graces his lips. His name sounds pretty on her tongue, and he immediately knows he will want to hear it more. 

Jinki thinks maybe that is his killer move.

+++

To have a celebrity coming back to your cafe, and getting to know them is an oddly enjoyable experience.

One morning Onew--no, Jinki arrives with all his attention on his phone. He’s typing furiously before craning his neck to see you. “(Y/n),” he says in an exaggerated whine, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting comically cute, “Kibum is being mean to me. He said we can’t hang out today. I’m so sad. I need my sad coffee so can you please get me a--”

“Jinki, don’t--”

“A despresso?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh audibly, a fond grin in place, making him snicker as he rubs the back of his head.

"Get it? Like espresso but depress-"

"Yes, Jinki. I get it."

Every time Jinki visits, you enjoy his company. Granted, he’s not the type to talk much, and when he does, he always manages to surprise you. You don’t know what’s worse, his dad jokes, or the fact that he’s not aware how much he’s driving you crazy. Does he know his teasing words can be wrongly interpreted as flirting? Does he know he looks good in even worn out shirts? Does he know you start to think he's been coming here not only for the coffee? With that being said, you weren’t prepared for Jinki’s presence in close proximity almost everyday.

"Whatcha' doing?" Jinki asks, his face leaning over the high counter, peeking into your workspace. His mask is off, and like his perfect face is not distracting enough, he's wearing a black sweater that snug nicely on his body. You notice how broad his shoulders are, or how his collarbones look so prominent, hanging above defined pecs. Focus, you have a job.

"I'm trying to make a new drink," you reply, measuring in teaspoons of the powder you prepared. You take the recently bought bamboo whisk to mix the powder. New tools in the kitchen always get you excited, especially if it’s your first time using it.  "Do you know hojicha?"

He tilts his head, thinking, and you wonder if it's necessary for him to jut his lower lips like that. "No. Is it Japanese?"

"Mmhm, it's Japanese roasted green tea.” You start whisking the water and the hojicha powder, and Jinki gawks. As the mixture gets frothy, you elaborate. "I've been wanting to try to make it, maybe someone will be interested." Grabbing another cup, you mix the diluted powder and the milk, the ash-colored tea mixture turning the milk into gray-ish brown. "They say it tastes best with milk."

"Ah, really?" Without a warning, Jinki shots one hand forward, taking the glass from your nimble hand. You yelp at the sudden movement. He then takes a big gulp, craning his neck to drink it properly and you can't take your eyes off of his Adam's apple as it moves with each gulp, and the veins running on his neck. Shit. He pulls the glass away, and using his other hand, he wipes his mouth. Your throat goes dry. 

Unaware of your struggle, he hums, "It's good. Bitter, but good.”

Shaking yourself back to reality, you take a deep breath. "I was about to say I hadn't put the sugar in."

"I think you don’t need it. Or just put a little," he grins, gesturing the aforementioned amount with his index finger and thumb, a small distance lingers between them. His fingers are pretty, you think absentmindedly. His other hand puts the empty glass back onto the counter. "You're really good at this."

At that, your heart swells with pride. "Of course, I don't want my customers to go."

"Me as well?"

"You as well,” you state, genuine. You can tell him that as much. “My early morning was never this fun."

Jinki snorts. “Me? Fun?” He asks, pointing a finger at himself. “People say I’m weird.”

“No offense, Jinki, I didn’t say you’re not weird.” The man barks a laugh and you join in. “But that’s what makes you fun. You're not boring."

Not for the first time, you witness his expression turn sheepish, almost shy and awkward. His fingers fidget behind his folded arms. But he quickly recovers, waving off your compliment.

"What about the other customers?"

The question perks your attention. "I have the best regulars," you reply, thinking of all your customers and their anecdotes. "I love talking to them."

"They seem to like gossiping with you."

"They do! Jinki, they talk a lot. There's this lady who will order parfaits only when she's upset or having a fight with her boyfriend. And also the working man who usually comes in evenings, he always asks if I serve alcohol. It's really hilarious—"

"But you always listen to them."

"Of course I do. Like I said, I love talking to them, I really do. Granted, mostly I just listen to them venting out their problems. But I guess it helps and my beverages too - " you stop yourself. "Sorry. D-did I bore you?"

"No, not at all," he answers, short and fast and most definitely teasing. "I enjoyed it. Come on, tell me more." Jinki is still leaning on the counter. His head is in his propped hand, eyes crinkling in amusement, and his plump lips are curling into a soft smile that makes your heart race. You feel warmth crawling on your cheeks.

"Don't say that. Gosh, that was embarrassing." You're still trying to hide your face behind your hands when a large palm lands on your head. You look up, and see Jinki who has straightened his back to full height, looming over you. Then, his hand is in your hair, ruffling it playfully.

"Cute," Jinki coos with a smile that shows his brilliant teeth and melts your insides into goo. After messing with your hair, he pulls his hand back and you swear his fingers brush past your cheekbones, the touch eliciting shivers down your spine. Unbothered, Jinki goes on his merry way and continues talking about random things as if nothing happened.

The audacity.

+++

"Alright, spill, what's up."

Eunmi's voice pulls you back to reality. Smell of food floods your senses, sweet and sour from kimchi and vinegar, and you remember your lunch with Eunmi. You look at your friend who's grabbing her spoon with a slight annoyance clear on her face.

"What? Nothing," you insist, diving back to your buckwheat noodles to avoid her piercing stare. She tsks at you, not buying the excuse.

"Nothing my ass, you've been staring at the pickles this whole time."

You're not in your cafe, in fact, you close it up for a while to have lunch out. Eunmi invited you to a restaurant near her office, only one station away from the store. It’s a cozy diner that’s not too crowded or loud, so you can talk comfortably. Eunmi brings her own car, and promises to drive you back after lunch.

The fact that even Eunmi realizes your weirdness makes you startled. You listen to her a lot, but it’s never the opposite case. You know your friend well enough to understand she won’t usually catch up on your mood swings, especially because you’re not the kind of person who shows your emotion on your sleeves. But that man just won’t leave your mind, not after driving you crazier with each passing day. Jinki keeps coming over, all smiles and charms and never forgetting to compliment you and your drinks.

And for whatever reason, you always end up talking about yourself for a good amount of time. That never happened before, not before him. You prefer to listen, and you do that well. But with Jinki, rarely does he ramble to you, instead it’s the other way around. Without a doubt, you’re getting too comfortable with him. And how can you not? He’s humble, polite, his smile lights up the whole room, and he looks like that. All soft brown hair and handsome.

"I know that face," Eunmi interrupts your trail of thoughts, her face beaming with mischief. You blink your eyes. That can’t be good.  "There's someone, isn't there?"

"What? No!"

"Nu-uh, you can't fool your unnie. You’re smiling like a teenager just now,” she teases while grabbing another spoonful of her dried pollack soup.

You splutter. “I-I did?”

“So, who is it? Come on, tell me something. My coworkers suck and I need some drama."

Cursing your luck, you grumble. Eunmi must be very perceptive to recognize the look on your face. But telling her about Jinki is impossible. You won’t be able to get away by saying “I think Onew from SHINee has been flirting with me non-stop.” It’s going to be a mess--no, a mess would be an understatement.

You take a deep breath, “It’s complicated, okay?”

"Tell me about it." Eunmi snorts.

“I can’t tell you just yet.”

She stares at you directly. “But?”

“It’s just…” You begin, hand already moving to cover your mouth, as if it could help you from the massive embarrassment you feel while discussing this. “I don’t know if I’m reading things correctly,” then, “Like, what if I’m wrong?”

“So you don’t know if he’s into you, or he’s just being nice.”

"Exactly!” you gasp.

She suddenly smirks, leaning back against the chair, "That's easy, just make a move."

"Make a move?"

"Yeah, make a move,” she repeats easily, “Do something similar to what he did to you, and see his reaction. Maybe he's just waiting."

You ponder upon her advice. It’s solid, and actually doable. Albeit unsure, you keep it in mind. "Alright, I’ll try.”

You finish your lunch and go back to the cafe. Eunmi, being the best combination of a friend and a customer, requests a chocolate marshmallow frappe before she returns to her office. Back to your usual place behind the counter, and Eunmi on the chair, she tells you about her vacation plan.

“A long weekend trip with your husband? That’s amazing!” You exclaim to Eunmi who’s radiating happiness.

Eunmi slurps at her drink, humming pleasantly from the sweetness. “Mm-hm,” she responds, the joy radiating from her is a refreshing sight compared to the usual gloom. “We’re going to Damyang.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, patting the older woman’s shoulder. “So you’re leaving tomorrow?” 

She nods. “Finally, a time off from those douchebags.”

You laugh, remembering her stories of the god-awful co-workers, then a jingle halts you.

“Oh, welcome!” You say and immediately feel your stomach drop as you see Jinki. Shit, the timing is so bad. Jinki rarely comes in the afternoon, what's up with the rare occurrence? And just by scanning his clothes, you’re more baffled, because today's outfit today is more extreme than usual. He’s wearing one of his worn out track pants and regular trainers.The grey jacket looks okay but he’s wearing the hoodie over a snapback. You can’t see even a strand of his hair. By default, his mask is also on, so you’re not too worried about him being recognized by Eunmi.

Jinki makes his order, glancing at you with sharp eyes, something he doesn’t usually do because you already know his usual menu. You just respond formally before dashing to where your drink machine is at, from the corner of your eye you see him taking a seat near the corner. Not long after, Eunmi’s face is in front of you, worried.

“He looks sketchy,” she whispers in a rush. Jinki? Sketchy? You bit your lip, trying to hold your blank expression in place, instead of the urge to grin.

“Really? I think he’s been here before, though.”

“How can you recognize him? This guy’s all covered from head to toe, (Y/n). It’s so creepy. I hope your man doesn't look like that."

You almost choke on air. Internally you're praying Jinki didn't hear the last part. “Right, right.” You peek at Jinki with a bothered expression, crafted meticulously to deceive Eunmi. You're definitely going to tease Jinki about this later. “I’ll be careful.”

Eunmi grabs her plastic cup before hoisting the bag up her shoulder. She points her manicured nails at you. “You better be, ‘cause I have to go now. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry,” you smile at your customer. Eunmi waves at you, gives a pointed look at Jinki’s back, and goes out of the store. As soon as the door closes, you slump on your post, letting out a loud and exaggerated sigh. You turn your sight to Jinki and find him facing you in his chair. The shit-eating grin on his face makes you more tired.

"Don't get closer, (Y/n)," he acts out, and you're already rolling your eyes. "I might bite."

You blow a raspberry while striding towards his table, a drink in hand. "Sure, sure, can't trust strangers who wear too many hoodies all the time," you grumble, putting Jinki's iced americano on the table.

The man has the audacity to pout at you in retaliation. "Not all the time."

You giggle. "What's the occasion, then?"

"Nothing." He slurps the black coffee, nonchalant and ridiculously bad at lying.

Baffled, you glare at the man who keeps drinking the beverage without care. With another brief observation, you note his outfit is actually not that different than usual. But he never wears a hoodie and a snapback. You can't even see his hair.

Oh.

“I get it!” You clap your hands excitedly as if you’re a seal. “It’s your hair, isn’t it?”

Jinki hisses through gritted teeth, forcing a crooked grin while his eyes are already looking away from yours. Bingo.

“Is it a new color? Did you cut it short?” 

Mischievously, Jinki puts a finger in front of his plump lips. “Company secret.”

You pout, and he chuckles. The mischief in his face is annoying yet somehow innocent, you can't bring yourself to get mad at him. It doesn’t help that he looks positively entertained by his own game of guess. But you're ever the curious one, and seeing there's no other customer right now, you have to find out what's behind the hat. 

Without much thought, you swat a hand at his snapback, tipping everything that's covering his head backwards. 

"Hey!"

As if in slow motion, the hood of his jacket is pushed back, and the hat falls to the floor. Anticipation builds up in your mind when you realize you’re about to see the hair. You hear Jinki yelp, and—

"It's pink!" You gasp out, overwhelmed. Out of all things, you didn't expect to find a mop of mauve pink colored hair underneath the hat. The shade is slightly muted, making it look less artificial. For some reason, it fits Jinki so well. His lightly tanned skin and the hair combined creates an exotic appearance of him.

Jinki is now pouting again, jutting out his lower lip like the hair is a punishment. "I wanted to surprise you, you know."

You tut at him, but leans down to take Jinki's cap off the floor, dusting it slightly. "How long would I have to wait?"

"Uh, until the comeback?"

"You haven't even announced the date," you reply with an unamused expression.

Jinki chuckles. "That's true." Out of a sudden, he poses. "Ta-da! Now you know I have pink hair." The sight brings warmth, because gosh, he's a sight to see. Then, with a huff, Jinki twirls the locks of the aforementioned hair, playing it around. "It's my first time, too."

You, however, are not paying attention to what he's saying. Questions pop into your head, wondering if Jinki’s hair feels soft like how it looks right now. With the lighting in your store interior, combined with warm natural light from the outside, the hair color looks chrome-like. It’s, no pun intended, shiny. All of a sudden, you feel a strong urge to touch it, curious how it will feel against your fingertips. Albeit hesitant, Eunmi’s words echo in your ears, motivating you to test the waters.

Leaning down, you ignore Jinki’s confused gaze and pull a lock of the sakura-colored hair. Your hunch is proven correct, it’s soft and luscious. As if in entrance, you caress more of his teresses, moving them out of his eyes while your fingertips occasionally graze his ear. You’re positively jealous of the care that goes into this man’s hair. It’s so soft, you want to pet it all day. Jinki can lay his head in your lap and you’ll definitely caress his hair all day long without a single complaint. The thought makes you giddy.

Your silly daydream is abruptly stopped when a large hand closes around your wrist, gentle yet firm. Realizing what you’ve done, you yelp.

“I’m sorry, I just--” You look down from the mop of hair to Jinki’s eyes, wide and as surprised as you. The close proximity catches you off guard. When did you lean in this close? 

All of a sudden, every word dies in your throat. But his next words bring more surprise.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jinki cuts through the endless chatter running in your head. That’s not a question you ask out of nowhere, isn’t it? His voice, as usual, is warm… syrupy, but there’s a darker edge in it that you can’t comprehend. You blink at the question, still mute from the shock.

As if shocked by his own question, he visibly gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing and stealing your attention for a second.

“That customer said something about your man.” he murmurs reluctantly. Realization hits you hard, and your jaw drops. So he did hear your conversation with Eunmi.

“No!” You blurt in a rising panic. “There’s no man. No boyfriend.” With each word, your voice becomes more quiet, the embarrassment sucking away your confidence in front of him. But It doesn't help that Jinki’s scrutinizing you from under his eyelashes, making you shrink even more. Finally, the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Really?” He asks, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. She's just teasing me. She does that a lot," you explain with a nervous laugh. You don't know how convincing your lie is, but it makes him hum, the sound is like music to your ears.

“Good,” he whispers before you feel his thumbs rubbing circles on your wrist, languid and relaxed. The calluses of his thumb drag against your smooth skin and you inhale sharply, feeling ripples of heat course through your body from the touch. His half-lidded eyes are now assessing you and you can’t look away as they move on to your lips. As if falling under a spell, the action triggers you to spontaneously look at his lips in turn, full and parted and driving you crazy.

A loud voice jolts you two back to reality. A ringtone. Phone call.

Jinki lets go of your wrist, now panicking and patting his pockets. "It's mine. Where is it, where is it..." When he finds the phone, he picks it up while standing up. "Yes, hyung?"

You see him walk away with clouded senses. Unable to pick which feeling is appropriate to express, disbelief or relief, you give up and run away from the premises, choosing to bury yourself behind the workspace.

+++

"How did it go with your man?" Eunmi asks, face literally glowing after her vacation.

You only groan in reply.

+++

It's closing time.

Moving on to the table top surfaces, you take a cloth, spraying it with a liquid cleaner and getting it ready to wipe the surface. It's going to take a while, but you don't mind. Cleaning makes your mind wander, but at least you're doing something productive.

It's one of the nights you stay late to tidy up new items and play around in the kitchen. You had finished the second attempt of an earl grey frappe before you began tidying up. The clock struck 10 o'clock a few minutes ago, so it's already an hour after your closing time. You already flipped the sign to close, but your lights are still on, intending to turn them off when you leave the store.

Days had passed after that weird confrontation with Jinki. The close proximity you shared that day still brings you heat and confusion in equal amounts, and Jinki didn't make it easier for you to get through the following days. You never addressed that day, not at all. But do things go back to normal? Not exactly.

Jinki keeps getting closer to you. You notice the brush of his fingers against your skin while passing his drink, when you talk on his table he'd tap your arm, or when he's about to leave he likes to give a playful squeeze on your shoulders. On rare occasions, he would tuck your hair out from your face while smiling sweetly before rucking the tresses into a mess. Unhelpful. In addition, you can’t stop talking to him. The man has an excellent capability to extract words from you, asking things about yourself, from your favorite drink to your life before this cafe. 

With the comeback date getting close, it’s not surprising when he doesn’t visit as often anymore. Once in a few days he’d come through your door and then scream your name, saying a nonsensical “I miss you!” Little did he know you share the same sentiment, but multiplied and definitely lack the jest. 

With his absence, your heart longs more for him. You realize the intangible distance between the two of you has decreased, and you can’t suppress your feelings anymore. It’s silly to fall for an idol, cliche, even. But with his soft demeanor and warm smile that always graces his heart-shaped face, it’s impossible not to.

Despite the admittance of feelings, you’re still in a limbo. You’re not an expert in love. Chasing your dream from a young age, you have no time for romance. You’ve had a fair share of crushes here and there, but never this complicated. It’s impossible to ask for advice, too.

Remembering Eunmi's words, you did make your move on Jinki. And his response was something you never quite get. Did he hate it when you touched his hair? Can you even consider making a move that time a success? Do you even know what success would be like? Many times you stopped yourself from touching him again, whether it’s his hair (which is still bright pink, by the way), or to grab his hand for whatever reason. You’re so drawn to him, like a moth to flames and it’s making you helpless.

By the time you finish polishing the last inch of the counters, the door jingles. An annoyed sigh escapes your mouth, someone doesn’t read the sign on your store. You turn to the door.

"I'm sorry, we're already closed—"

Upon recognizing the visitor, your heart beats faster with surprise and inexplicable yearning. You haven’t seen him in days, and you already forgot what he sounds like. He’s wearing another random baseball hat, but the usual mask is absent. His lips are turned into a frown, his brown eyes, usually so full of life, are unfocused, and the eyebags look prominent. The unusual state makes your stomach twist with discomfort.

"Jinki?” You take a step closer. “It's very late."

The mention of his name jerks him back to reality. Raising his head, his gaze locks with yours wearily. Tentatively, he opens his mouth, trying to get words out, but nothing comes out and he looks away, looking so defeated. Running by instincts, you step closer to him, pulling him by the wrist to drag him in. Now with him standing close to you, you can see the tiredness on his face. The little freckles on his skin are like constellations of stars, you notice he’s not wearing makeup, and you can’t help but find the mole on his chin endearing. He looks so beautiful, but tired.

"Jinki," you call out again, worry lacing each word. "Are you okay?"

As if on cue, Jinki lets out a quiet sigh that makes your heart drop. He doesn’t sound like the usual Jinki you know, and you immediately receive the answer to your question. Gathering your courage, you put a hand on his broad shoulder, and take the other to pull his hat off in order to take a closer look at him. You succeed without any restraint from the man. Then, you rub your hand on the fabric of his shirt, trying to give some sort of reassurance, for what, you don’t know yet, but you’re trying. You see Jinki’s eyes glint for a second, and suddenly a head thumps against your collarbone. Oh. Your hands stop moving, and his hat falls to the floor soundlessly.

Jinki sighs again, this time his warm breath fanning over your clothed shoulder, making you freeze even more. Your head is filled with nothing but the close distance you share with Jinki. His forehead presses firmly on your shoulder, the weight starts to feel heavy, so you stand tall, pushing against the man who’s significantly taller and larger than you, with your hands hanging awkwardly by your sides.

"...It's difficult." You hear him whisper.

You try to peek at him, but all you can see is his soft pink locks. It looks fluffy, despite the hat covering it before, if not slightly damp. Quietly, you inhale his scent, floral and musky but mostly covered by the smell of sweat. It must be from a dance practice. For some reason, you don’t mind it.

"I know my limits, and I've been doing this for years," he murmurs into your shoulders, voice weak and slightly muffled but you still can hear every word. "But it really doesn't get easier."

The words hang in the silent air, with no one speaking afterwards. Deciding to stay and listen, you let him there on your shoulder. Questions run through your head, along with many emotions you’ve never felt before for the man; pity, worry, adoration, and surprise, but you don't dare to speak or ask. Not in such vulnerability.

The next minute runs slowly, and the only thing you can hear in the empty cafe is you and Jinki’s breathing. You hope yours doesn’t sound too fast, but you try to ignore the self conscious thoughts for now.

Suddenly, Jinki tenses and pulls himself away, straightening his back that’s been hunching to reach your height. With his face bare from any makeup, you can see a light flush on his cheeks, and his ears are pink, adorably matching with the hair. He's devastatingly beautiful, and you can’t help but stare in awe. Still drowning in embarrassment, he doesn’t seem to notice.

"I'm very sorry," he whispers, formal all of a sudden, voice still close.

"It's okay." You pat his back with a smile, hoping to cease his groundless embarrassment. "You don't need to apologize, I don't mind."

Jinki looks at you for a moment, mouth parted and eyes expressing an emotion you don’t quite understand, then they turn to crescents as he smiles softly. 

"Really?" He asks, voice surprisingly even, a contrast to the state he was in before, and nimbly you nod. "Can I borrow your shoulder again, then?"

Oh. "Y-yeah." Your stomach does the twisty thing and when Jinki once again lays his head on your shoulder, you can hear your heartbeat going faster, thumping softly in your ears. For god's sake, you hope Jinki won't be able to hear or worse, feel them. Without a warning, Jinki shifts his head to the side, and--is he nuzzling? You swear that’s the tip of his nose touching your neck and now there’s puffs of air caressing your veins.

This is too much. It's your first time being this close with him, and it's not the best time to have physical reactions from this intimacy. Ignoring the shivers crawling on your skin, you will yourself to stay still, and even your breathing.

The two of you stay there. Again, you hear Jinki's breathing, then you hear your own. You’re not a physically affectionate person, but all you wish right now is to embrace him properly, to stroke his back and let him stay there for as long as he needs.

So you do that, you raise a hand to his head, caressing his pink tresses. Almost greedily, he leans into your touch, as if he's been waiting for it. With a fond sigh, you can't hold yourself from ruffling his hair further.

“You’ve worked hard.” 

Maybe those words won’t be enough, but you find no fault in trying.

You hear Jinki inhale sharply, then he exhales in resignation before pulling back. He’s now standing at his full height, and you have to raise your head to see him properly. Relief blossoms when you catch his calm expression. With that, you share a moment of comfortable silence, exchanging unsaid words through intangible mediums. Then, you pat his shoulder twice before moving away from his personal space.

“Sit down, I’ll make you tea,” you declare to the now panicking man, rustling to get the kettle. Jinki's face is glowing, despite the lack of makeup. He looks animated, tired, but breathtaking. It's almost like you're seeing him in a new light.

"I thought you're already closing up," he complains weakly, and you offer him an innocent smile, pulling one tea bag from the box.

The sound of a chair being pulled is your winning declaration.

"You don’t have to.”

"And you have to drink some tea. Chamomile can help you sleep better," you chide, bringing the cup to the table. As you sit down, you see him fiddling with his hands.

"So… How's your day?"

"Like usual," you shrug. "But less fun without you." His face lights up and you stifle a laugh. "I made an earl grey frappe, but it still needs something."

"A new drink? Can I try?"

You smile widely. "I'll make it for you next time."

"Make sure you don't put too much sugar in it," he winks, and it prompts a laugh from you. Jinki looks better now, more refreshed and light but you catch him zoning out a few times, his gaze seemingly focusing on your face, making you squirm internally.

"What?" You ask, noticing him staring at you again. And he just grins, showing off the adorable gummy smile.

"Nothing." And he's back to his tea. By the time he empties his glass, he offers to wash it by himself. You almost drag his hoodie to stop him, but you finally relent - he already rushes to the sink, that man - and lets him do what seems to be one of his ways to thank people. Relieved, you start to recognize his usual self once more, so you join him with a lighter heart.

You’re taking off your apron when you notice a solemn expression on his face.

“How are you getting home?” He asks.

"I take the bus from the main street, then I walk for a few blocks."

His face turns dark. "Every night?"

You blink at him, searching the issue. “Yeah.”

"Let me drive you home," he declares, walking to your side. "It's already late."

"It's not my first time going home this late, it's fine."

His eyebrows furrow. "No it's not." Much to your surprise he gently takes your hand in his, like he’s hesitant. After seeing no discomfort from your part, he squeezes. “Please, let me drive you home.”

You know you can’t say no, the sincere concern in his face melting your resistance. You simply nod, requesting a few minutes to turn off the lights and pack your bag. He complies before preparing to leave the store first.

"I park my car near the convenience store.”

"The one in the main street, right?" He affirms, and stops. Confused, you wait until he leans closer. He ruffles your hair, messing with it playfully. You yelp a complaint while he laughs, and suddenly, he puts his snapback on top of your head. 

With that, he leaves the store to prepare the car.

The gesture leaves you reeling, so you hold the cap to ground yourself. Belatedly, you realize this is going to be the first time you go out with Jinki outside of the comfort of your store. You know it’s nothing big, but it feels new, and exciting. And he’s going to drive you home, the gesture feels too intimate.

Arriving at the main street, you catch a sight of a black car parking near the convenience store. Right by its side is Jinki, waiting for you. He notices your form walking towards him and immediately opens the passenger door for you. Seeing you gawk, he grins.

“Come on,” he says, leading you closer with his hand on your lower back. The action makes you warm inside. You go inside the car wordlessly, and he joins in.

Maybe it's because of how late it is. Perhaps tea does have a good amount of caffeine. Regardless, the two of you are way too lively, especially after a long day of work. Jinki keeps playing random R&B songs and almost plays SHINee’s new song by accident, eliciting a gasp from the man and a delighted squeal from you. You keep telling him the directions, and the car strolls from amidst tall buildings to the residential area, where there are only smaller apartments and condos. He takes the final turn, and you excitedly point at one building, your apartment building. It’s a humble one, but you like how the location is far from dangerous areas of the city, and it’s neat. When Jinki finally parks the car, both of you whoop a drunk-like yaaay! while still laughing at each other.

Jinki gets out of the car first, humming sweetly, and you follow suit, the quietness of your neighborhood contrasts deeply with how loud it was inside the car. But it's a nice and welcomed contrast.

You skip to the staircase to the lobby, and you notice Jinki following you before he stops right before the first stair step. Turning towards him, you're not unfazed by the ever present smile on his handsome face. 

The high energy you both share simmers down, turning into a calm and light atmosphere. Surrounded by comfortable silence, you drink in the sight of him, a man that's shining so bright even in the middle of the night, on a sidewalk. However, the moment must come to an end.

"Thank you for driving me home."

"No," Jinki begins, looking straight at you with his dark eyes. "Thank you, (Y/n)."

"Don't mention it," you giggle. Realizing the item on your head, you take it off, offering it to him. "Your hat."

He waves it off. "Keep it until I see you again."

You only grip the snapback since it doesn't look like he's giving you another option. So you nod before taking a deep breath. "Alright then, good night." You exhale, disappointment creeps within your words, unnoticed.

"Wait."

You're about to turn towards the lobby to climb the stairs when his hand grabs yours and unceremoniously pulls you to him. There's a short moment of clarity and your five senses heighten, noticing his smell, his presence and—His lips press unto yours, soft and slightly chapped, you note in a daze. Warm rush of joy fills you, and you're about to return the kiss when he pulls back, the sight of him leaving you speechless. If he was glowing before, now he looks like the sun, all warm smiles and overwhelmingly bright. Even in the dark his pink hair paints an unreal picture. Catching you off guard, he leans in to plant another kiss, this time on your cheek, your disappointment is too apparent because he’s chuckling softly when he drags his lips to your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers hotly, eliciting pleasant shivers down your spine. Leaning back, he waves innocently, gesturing at you to get into the building.  Speechless and flabbergasted, you give a small bow before practically running towards your apartment.

That night, you plop onto the bed feeling giddy like a teenager. Your mind wanders to Jinki, and Jinki only, from how he visited you tonight, how his breath feels against your skin, his laugh, his silly pink hair, and - the kiss. After a glance at his hat, which you hang near your bed side, you giggle into your pillow, looking forward to seeing the man tomorrow. 

Little do you know you're not going to see him again.

+++

Days pass.

The door to your cafe stays silent at 8 o'clock. There is no sight of a tall man in oversized clothes and mask, no sight of his sakura-colored hair. Ignoring the pang in your chest, you hope he's doing okay at work.

But days turn into weeks, and you know he won't be coming back. You hear news about SHINee's comeback, how successful it is and how all the members look mesmerizing and more handsome than ever. You also hear rumors about a certain man. The news say they spotted him a few times with a female, starting from them getting coffee together, to the more recent one, a picture in which the female had her hands in the crook of his elbow, both of them were smiling, clearly head over heels towards each other. People say they look good together, an idol and a famous actress. Even the fans are supportive of their presumed relationship, saying it's about time their oppa settles down with someone good enough for them.

That day, your heart breaks into pieces.

You drown yourself in work. The auntie from your regular bakery comes over to send you a variation of new cakes, asking about the customer behind regular orders of her traditional pastries. With a strained smile, you say he’s out of town, skillfully lying to the lady, and you don’t know when he will return - this time you’re telling the truth, bitter and a hard pill to swallow. The older lady pats your back, a sad look on her face, everything takes time, my dear, she says with a very knowing gaze. You swallow down a cry, unwilling to be seen so emotionally naked in front of her or anyone else, so you tell her you'll visit her tomorrow. Eunmi knows something's wrong. You hide emotions behind your cheerful self but she recognizes a broken hearted person anywhere, especially when it's her friend. So she takes you out to a pocha - a street vendor - near the neighborhood trying to wash away your pain with eo muk tang and soju. Having quite the high tolerance, you can't even drunkenly spill your secrets to her. But loosened up from alcohol, you tell her about your expectations and how it hurts you. You're grateful for her, nonetheless.

Weeks turn into months. The cold season melts into spring, a season too famous for blossoming love and all that bullshit. You never see him again, not on the news, not in person. He becomes a figment of your memory, a shadow that never fully comes into a tangible form that you can touch, or even gaze at. You toss and turn at night, trying to forget a man who managed to capture your heart, then breaks it mercilessly. You want to punish yourself for missing him, longing to hear his warm voice, his sweet laugh, and how happy he made you feel.

+++

It’s one of your bad days.

Granted, you haven’t been in your best state for months now, but you never let it bother your daily routine. Today, however, is just not your day. You wake up with a dreadful feeling in your stomach, like you’re walking on thin ice. So you wash it down with a cup of triple espresso, letting the caffeine induce faux energy in your veins.

Now you're in the bathroom of your cafe, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. You apply more lip tint and you discover it does improve your appearance, now you're less pale, much to your relief.

"With all due respect, (Y/n), you look like shit" was what Eunmi said to you before she left for her job. Grumbling, you give in and finally fix your appearance in the bathroom. Deeming yourself presentable - in fact, you look good, your hair's on point, you note with a grin - you leave the bathroom.

You see a figure standing in the middle of your cafe.

And he is awfully familiar.

Unbidden, a wave of anger hits you. Clenching your fist, you eye the man has been haunting your mind almost every single night. A shadow that somehow has taken his form, now.

"(Y/n)," he stammers. His voice is like a wake-up call, reviving a ghastly affection that you pushed down in your heart. You always like hearing your name on his tongue, luscious and teasing, but it never sounds this bleak.

Jinki looks different, the most apparent change is his hair, which is now dark brown, reminiscent of the first time you meet him. When was that again? Half a year ago? His fringe is slightly longer, a bit wavy and it fits him so well. Begrudgingly you admit his beauty did not fade, he's still as handsome as ever, if not more, and his cheekbones are more prominent, giving him a sharper appearance.

It's clear as day that he's somber, and the fact incites more anger on your part. Inhaling through your nose, you stomp back to your place behind the counter. From the corner of your eye you see his gaze following your movement.

"What would you like to order?" You ask, because even though you're heartbroken, you're a professional.

"I need to talk to you," he says. Of course he does. Nevertheless, you put on a charming smile before his guilt-stricken face.

"Your order, please."

He leans forward. "I'm sorry - " And that's the wrong answer, not when your day is already bad as it is, not when you feel so awful from the moment you wake up in your bed. Especially not after so many questions and non-existent answers on his behalf.

"If you're not buying anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," you say through gritted teeth, your customer service mask slipping off.

After an excruciating silence, he ducks his head, biting his lips, like he needs to stop himself from speaking any further. Then slowly, he walks towards the door. At that point, you should feel triumphant. But the pang in your heart says otherwise as you see his hunched back, filled with disappointment. Before leaving, he turns one more time, looking at you in the eye with a gaze that squeezes your heart painfully.

"I'll come back to visit again."

You watch the empty store, breathing harshly. There's a storm of emotions going inside you, and nothing you do afterwards helps you calm down. You've never been this shaken before, not even when you first heard of Jinki dating on the news. That day, you thought of course, of course he would date the actress. Not someone he randomly kissed after a particularly rough day. Idols are unreachable for a reason. But his reappearance opens a Pandora's box, releasing the feelings you locked in so many months ago.

To make it worse, this time Jinki is not lying. Because the next morning, he's back, he's wearing a black turtleneck shirt paired with slacks and covered by a dark brown coat, looking dashing all while smiling hospitably as he orders a huge americano and a dozen pastries for dine-in. He sits in his usual corner, fiddling with his phone all the while throwing glances at you. It's easy to ignore him with the presence of other customers, but when it's only two of you, it's a whole different kind of challenge.

Surprisingly, the man doesn't attempt to talk to you, at all. Jinki just sits there, waiting. He nibbles on one snack to the other, and continues to wait. You can hear him receiving calls silently, trying to hush his voice, but you hear words like "I'm not coming" and "I'm sorry, but I already told you yesterday” which start to melt the ice that’s settling within you.

The sun is setting when you decide you can't stand it anymore. He's been eating nothing but pastries, he had ordered another glass of coffee and he. Just. Won't. Leave. Checking the time, it's been 9 hours, and you’ve waited long enough, way too long, to get the answers you’ve been asking for.

With dread clawing inside your stomach, you stand up and walk to his table. Jinki notices your presence and immediately perks up. You despise the glimmer of hope in those familiar brown eyes.

"Why are you here?" The tremble in your voice is evident, and you inwardly curse. Jinki, however, looks determined and stares back with a steely gaze.

"I want to talk to you," he states evenly.

"Right now? The store is still open."

The air on his face changes abruptly, and you almost step back, feeling his anger. After throwing you an unexpected sneer, he speed-walks to the door, grabbing your wooden sign and flipping it over from ‘open’ to ‘close’. You stammer a protest, but he's already in front you, looming over with his taller body.

"It's closed." Motivated by desperation, you know he will do anything to get what he wants. But internally you shake off the tingles of warmth you feel when seeing him this assertive. "Can we please talk now?"

You chew the insides of your cheek, biting off your frustration, because you know he got you cornered. With a sigh, you nod. You've listened to many people, many stories ranging from sorrow to joy, and you listen well, quiet and composed. Now, you're anything but. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, uncomfortable with the increasing tension in the air. He remains silent, and you feel more uneasy. When he finally speaks, you should’ve seen it coming.

"I'm sorry." You feel each word stabbing your chest. "I'm sorry for not coming back, I have my reasons so please let me explain first."

You inhale sharply. "You have a girlfriend."

"No, I - "

"You have a girlfriend. Why did you even kiss me?"

Hurt flashes on his face. "She's not my girlfriend. And I kissed you because I wanted to."

Anger rises in your veins.

"Everybody says it. It's all over the news." You hold the urge to sneer, to laugh at his attempt to lie. Jinki’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his hand flailing helplessly. Then, he holds a hand up.

"Give me a minute," he insists before opening up his phone. You're close to berating him for lack of manners but he suddenly holds the phone to you. You look up at him quizzically. He only nods, somber and knowing, so you take it.

You gasp, your stomach churns with dread.

On his phone screen is a picture of the two of you, clearly taken by someone who's not supposed to see it. It was from that night before he stopped visiting, and it has you and him on the main street, right before you enter his car. Your face is hidden by the cap he lent, but he is ushering you into the car with a hand on your lower back. Unlike your features, Jinki's are crystal clear. He’s not wearing anything to cover his face, and his pink hair is bright in the dark. From the proximity, it's obvious what it looks like.

"T-this is - "

"Paparazzi. We managed to prevent the worst case with the help of media insiders, but we still needed to do preventive measures.” At that moment, SHINee was about to start promoting a comeback, if it went wrong, it'd ruin everything. “So, one of my agents suggested I fake-dated another celebrity to cover it up."

Your eyes widen. He stops, and stares at you knowingly.

"I was under heavy scrutinization. The media had their eyes on each and every movement I made. They followed me everywhere." He ducks his head, chuckling with an uncharacteristic self pity in his voice.

"I couldn't visit you. It was too risky. So I waited, and played along with the plan. Thankfully, announcing the relationship was not necessary. The pictures and interactions were enough. In the end, all we had to do was deny the rumors, saying we're just friends who helped each other in her acting gigs. Furthermore, I don't think they managed to publish the original picture. If they did… Let's just say I wouldn't be here."

Silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind is still processing all the things he’d said, but you can feel the blooming hope within your heart, trying to tell you to listen and to give him a chance. 

Jinki inhales, chest expanding before letting out of his frustrations through a harsh exhale. Then, he moves forward, taking your hand with his hesitant ones, testing the waters. Staying still, you watch with anticipation and thundering heart as he pulls your hands up.

“I miss you. I miss this place. Being around you makes my worries disappear, as if the only thing that matters is the time we spend together. I've always enjoyed your company since I first visited this place by chance but…” he takes a deep breath, eyes boring straight into yours.

“I didn’t expect to fall for you." 

Your breath hitches, and he moves closer. Just an inch closer, testing the waters.

"Please, give me a chance. I didn’t mean to stop seeing you. To stop visiting for months, not being able to see your smile… It was a torture.”

With shallow breaths, the aftermath of your shock, you find yourself unable to say anything. Your head is light and dizzy - clouded with emotions after his revelation. He pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss that stills you even further. His eyes are solemn, filled with so much longing that suddenly becomes clear to you.

"Will you forgive me? Can I try again?”

Months of learning to forget and hate him melts away. There's something in your expression that makes Jinki's eyes soften. You miss that gentleness that brings so much life to the man, but most of all, you miss him. Just him. Letting instinct take over, you pull your hands away from his grasp as his face falls.

"You idiot," you murmur helplessly, moving forward only to punch his chest, albeit weakly, ignoring his protests as he stumbles back with a yelp. "I waited. I waited for you but you never came back, I thought you - you got bored of me or something."

"(Y/n), no - "

Something inside you snaps, and you let words come out like a waterfall.

"I like you a lot, Jinki. More than a lot. I-I think I'm falling for you too. I didn't know what to do when I saw the news. It made me feel so bad about myself. And you just kissed me too. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He scratches the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

"W-well, I don't have your number."

Unbidden, you choke out a strangled laugh, noticing the tears that's appearing in your eyes. With trembling fingers, you grab his shirt, hiding your face away in his chest. 

"I waited for you." You repeat, voice hoarse and weak.

With a tenderness you never felt before, he holds your face and frowns, regret paints his eyes darker. 

"I'm sorry, I'm here now."

"Is it even safe for you to be here?"

"It's been months, I'm out of their radar now, my team made sure of it."

"Stupid."

"I know, I know. I am stupid, I'm sorry."

"I missed you." You finally say, and in a second warmth engulfs your body as he pulls you into his arms. The scent that is undoubtedly Jinki, oh so familiar to you, comforts you almost instantly.

"I missed you, too." He says into your hair, and you return his embrace with a hiccup. "Are you crying? I'm so sorry."

You pull back, stubbornly trying to show him you are not crying but he just laughs - bright and warm, shit, you really missed it - cupping your face so tenderly it makes your cheeks burn. But something in your face makes him frown.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Your eyes widen at the nickname and his face falls. "Um, is it okay if I call you that?"

"S-sure," You reassure him, secretly melting inside.

"Good. So, what's on your mind?" He inquires with a hint of worry. You bite your lips, thinking about a question that has been lingering in your mind.

“So that night, when you kissed me… It wasn’t a mistake?”

At that, a smug smile graces his plump lips. Gosh, you even miss this side of him, the one that takes enjoyment in flustering you.

“I never regret it."

Relief floods your heart, and it leaves blossoms of hope. So you look up at him, putting on a cute expression that hopefully melts him.

“Can you do it again?”

He chuckles, not showing any protest before leaning in to capture your lips.

“Gladly.”

+++

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"I parked the car at a market two blocks away from your cafe, I think we're okay, (Y/n),” he sighs, pushing your back for you to start walking. Due to someone’s reckless action, you closed the store hours before it’s closing time, and now you even get to go home early.

You laugh. "Fine."

There's a part of Jinki that will never agree to you going home by bus, hence why he's insistent on driving you home once again. With a lighter heart, you accept.

But contrasting the previous trip, the ride home is silent. You can hear the faint sound of keys jingling against the dashboard, and the constant clack of pedals being stepped on. You turn your gaze to the driver, the sight of his side profile greeting you. He's breathtaking, you think, the mole on his chin is beyond adorable, and all of a sudden, the man turns his face. He offers you a smile before patting your thighs - as if knowing that smile makes your legs weak - and within seconds his eyes are back on the road, leaving you flustered.

Jinki parks the car across your apartment building, bringing a deja vu to the whole situation. You open the door and step a foot outside, thinking of saying good night to Jinki there and then. But he doesn't share your thoughts, because he's already leaving the car, intending to see you to the lobby.

"Alright then," he says softly. "Good night, (Y/n)."

The insides of your stomach twists. You don’t want him to leave yet. Months passed without him in your life, and despite having brighter days ahead within the new relationship, a selfish part of you still wants to spend time with him, making up for the lost time. You don't know what pushes you forward that night, but you’re already pulling the cuff of his sleeves, fingers curling around the fabric.

Jinki turns around, confusion clear in his brown eyes. "Yes?" He's tilting his head, cute.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You blurt out and his eyes turn into saucers. "You haven't eaten a proper meal today. I can make something for both of us."

His surprise melts into a bright smile, his eyes crinkling with happiness. You see his ears turning red. "I'd love to."

You step into your home first, taking off your shoes and changing them to slippers. Gingerly, yet excited, you pull another pair of slippers to give to your guest. It’s a pair of white bunny slippers, with little ears as the decoration. You hope he doesn’t mind the design.

"Oh, thank you," he says, stifling a laugh at the object - rude - before ducking to follow your gesture. Then, he removes his coat, hanging it on the rack, revealing a set of broad shoulders and chest, the fabric of his low turtleneck shirt emphasizing the swell of his arms. You hang onto the sight for a little too long, and by the time you look away, Jinki already has a knowing smirk, amused at your dumbfounded expression. With a huff, you practically rush inside your home, ignoring him.

Without even looking, you know he's scanning your room. You're quite proud of it, because it may be small, but you made it as comfy as possible.  You don't have dining tables, instead you have island counters and high chairs. Gesturing Jinki to sit there, you excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes. As you're about to reach your room, Jinki calls your name. You turn to see him holding a familiar cap from your shelves.

"You kept it with you." He's grinning as he flails the hat, looking all giddy and adorable, and it's contagious.

"Of course, you told me to."

"That I did. But I didn't expect you to hold it after what happened."

He's not wrong. Many times you wanted to throw it away, since it's the only item you have that's left of him, the only string left of the frail connection you had with Jinki. But you couldn't, despite the bittersweet feeling that came from seeing the hat, sometimes you found comfort from it. 

As if sensing the deflated mood, he pushes the hat on your head playfully, pulling a laugh from you which halts when the back of his hand caresses your cheek, his eyes assessing you with intrigue. The same hand ends up on your shoulder, giving a light push.

"Go on, aren't you going to change?"

You scowl half-heartedly, trying to ignore the subtle suggestive tone in his voice.

Quickly, you go into your room to store the hat away and change into your usual attire at home, lounge shorts and a large t-shirt. You stride to the kitchen area and take a second to drink in the sight of Jinki in your kitchen. It’s real. The scene is so domestic you can feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

"Does soybean soup sound good to you?" You ask, now standing in front of the island counter. You laugh internally realizing how similar this is to your usual dynamic at the café. "I have some pork dumplings too.”

Jinki blinks, then he looks at you from your head to toe with half hazed eyes. The way he’s drinking in your form triggers the heat pooling in your belly, especially when he stares at your thighs for a moment too long, and you can't help but squirm under his gaze. It's a truce, you suppose, for you've ogled at him as well. 

"That sounds lovely." His voice is quiet, eyes hazy like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. "Can I do anything to help?"

Bless this man. "Then, can you chop the vegetables?"

"Sure." He gets up and walks to your side, already eyeing a cutting board that’s hanging near the sink. Meanwhile, you’re rummaging through the freezer, acquiring a bag of frozen pork and leek dumplings, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're cooking together and it's so domestic, fuck - you move to the shelves, intending to get the soybean paste container up there. It's not that high, you swear, but you do need to tiptoe.

Then unexpectedly, a hand goes past yours to grab the container. Familiar scent tickles your nose and warmth seeps through your back, with that you know Jinki’s standing behind you.

Sheepish, you turn to thank him but stop when you realize how close he is. He's looking at you with hooded eyes, intense and filled with emotions you're familiar with, because perhaps, you're mirroring it. A rustling sound catches your attention, and you notice Jinki putting the container down to the counter. You can feel the top surface of the same counter digging into your hips, and belatedly you catch up with your situation, it almost feels like you're cornered.

Jinki puts his hand on the counter by the side of your torso. With the rolled sleeves, the muscle of his arms draws your attention once more, his bicep tensing as the hand presses on the surface. Now you're cornered by his strong arm, and he moves the other to your hair, fingers tickling your temples, dragging them slowly to move your fringe out of the way.

"Are you okay?" Asks Jinki, almost rhetorically, voice lower than you've ever heard in all the time you've known him. He smells like wood and a hint of something floral, and you start to feel intoxicated from it. He's moving closer, at first you can only hear his breath, but within seconds you can feel each puff of air on your skin.

You take note of your heartbeat that runs a mile, the way you breathe in shallow intakes, and the wild butterflies in your stomach. You notice how desperately you want him to touch you, kiss you, it's inappropriate. Then, the answer should be no, you're far from okay.

Instead, you gulp. "Yes," you rasp the answer and the corner of Jinki's mouth quirks up, devilish yet sweet.

"Good."

And then he's on you. His lips descend on yours, urgent and feverish, and you melt against him immediately. You know this is not the first time you kiss, but it wasn’t like this before, that one was short and sweet, you didn't think it could be this hot and intoxicating.

His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head to mold your mouth better, the gesture makes you weak and you let him guide you to his will, and by the time he succeeds, you're already gripping his shoulder for balance and support.

Jinki opens his mouth, pulling your lower lip in between his teeth, grazing and teasing it until you accidentally let out a whimper that causes him to inhale sharply. The noise fuels your need to be closer to him, so you kiss him back harder, trying to take any sort of control. But Jinki's not having it,  he puts his hand on your lower back, gripping them tight enough to make you gasp. He uses the opportunity to sneak his tongue past your swollen lips.

Overwhelmed by him, you push your own appendage against his, meeting it shyly. He groans, voice rumbling low like never before and it goes straight into your core. Your lips dance together in a sensual rhythm as the temperature between you seems to increase. Eventually, you grow more breathless, and pull back. He follows suit, detaching your mouth but keeping you close to him. Like tunnel vision, you can only focus on the man who has you in his arms.

Jinki touches your forehead with his, which feels really warm. His whole body radiates heat, like a furnace, and you want the warmth to engulf you more. Pulling back, he cups your face tenderly, calloused thumb rubbing your cheek carefully, as if too much pressure will break you into pieces. You won’t break, but the weight of his gaze does cause you to squirm. Feeling self conscious, you bring a hand up to your face, attempting to hide your disheveled self only to have Jinki tut at the action.

"You always do that." With his large hands, he pries your smaller ones away, showing your flushed face for his delight. He smiles in awe, and you can’t look away.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers.

Elated by the compliment, you mirror his smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips. The harmless peck turns into another heated kiss in no time, with you pressing yourself against him and him parting his irresistible mouth to welcome yours excitedly. Abruptly, he retreats again, chuckling nervously as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"I’m sorry.” He sounds strained. “If we keep doing this, I won’t be able to stop.”

Again you’re reminded of how much of a gentleman Jinki is, how proper and patient he is. But you had enough. With a ridiculous amount of desperation coming from the ever-growing tension in the air between you two, you muster all of your courage. "Then don't."

With eyes as big as saucers, Jinki is about to say something when you take the chance to grab his arm and lead him to the couch in the middle of your room. You're in no rush, you know he knows what you want, and he's following your lead soundlessly. You sit down, he follows suit and you notice the way he takes no time to turn to you, cupping your face as you lean into the palm of his large hand. Despite the gentleness of his touch, you can see the storm in his eyes and how it waits to crash unto you. 

So you end his uncertainty.

"Don't stop." You whisper before leaning in, capturing his lips in a languid kiss. He reciprocates, returning the favor eagerly while his hand wanders on your exposed thighs, the skin to skin contact bringing shivers to your spine. It doesn't take long until your frenzied self shifts closer to him, ending up sitting in his lap, and his lips have left yours in order to explore the skin of your neck. He parts his mouth and starts sucking on your skin, exposed by the large t-shirt. You breathe shakily, positively quivering in his hold. Never would you know the usually calm man can turn you into a molten heat under his touch. 

Wanting to feel more of Jinki, your hand wanders from his chest to his abdomen and lower to his thighs, eliciting a hiss from him. Mesmerized by his reaction, you crave more, so you shift in his lap, moving in a way that will make your thighs brush against the hardness between his legs.

"Oh god," he moans out loud, voice gravelly but still melodic to your ears, it brings a proud grin to your face, provoking his eyes to turn dark. He tuts. "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart."

The endearment alone sends a familiar wetness straight to your core. He smiles, knowing exactly what he does.

"May I?"

You nod, and suddenly his hand is on your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your center, and your breath hitches, knowing how wet you are by now. His other hand travels to your back, sneaking under your shirt to rub circles there, fingers brushing with the back of your bra repeatedly, the sensations make you whimper and the satisfaction on Jinki's face only brings more excitement in your veins. You almost let out a moan, biting your lip when you feel his finger pressing on your core through the pants.

"What was that?" He hums, putting more pressure.

"Don't tease me," you manage out, holding his upper arm with a trembling hand. Your last sliver of pride seems to fire a challenge within him, so you curse out loud when he easily pulls your pants down along with your panties, leaving you exposed. He rubs your thighs appreciatively, making you whimper.

"Jinki, please…"

The way his name sounds on your tongue right now must be so erotic, because you can feel his erection twitch in response. He hums, leaning in to ghost his lips over yours.

"What do you want, sweetheart?"

"Please touch me." Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

Deceptively calm, he slowly spreads your legs, putting one foot on the couch and the other dangling on his strong thigh, and drags his thick finger on your slit. That first contact alone pulls a moan out of you causing him to sigh with appreciation.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Don't say that - "

He gives you a crooked smile. "What? It's true, you're soaked."

It's not a secret that he enjoys teasing you until you lose your composure, but this time he's driving you crazy, and you know he's reveling in it. Losing control, you gasp as you feel a touch on your clit before his finger enters you easily. You bite your lip, closing your eyes as the glorious sensation takes you by surprise, and you lean forward to hide your face in the crook of Jinki's neck. He whispers sweet words, his other hand holds you tightly as the other keeps fingering you. Then, he pulls your body away, raising your chin, his eyes meet your questioning ones. Your answer arrives when another finger pushes into your wet cavern, making you keen. "A-ah - "

"Is that okay?"

The consideration doesn't go unnoticed. You nod, and he pulls you closer for a kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible. It's messy, you keep moaning into his lips, leaning back to pant as Jinki picks up speed, you have to hold a scream when he goes deeper, and crooks his fingers to a spot that rocks your body into a quivering mess.

Your control breaks when he rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling the pleasure building, and you can't stop the euphoric moans coming out of your mouth. Jinki stares at you with wonder in his eyes, appreciating your form as you gasp and pant his name so beautifully.

"Are you close?"

Feeling the intense heat coiling in your lower abdomen, you can only nod, but he persists, taking your chin rather forcefully you almost feel ashamed of how much you like it. His usually warm brown eyes are like molten lava, burning with desire and it lights you up in flame.

"No, tell me, are you close?" He demands with a harsh swipe on your clit and you arch your back in intense pleasure. You clench harder on his fingers, struggling to find words to answer him.

"Please, I'm so close - ah," You haven't finished your words when his hand increases the speed, going deep to rub your inner walls all without warning. You are in a sweet delirium, not caring of anything else at the moment. Your breaths are shallow, chest heaving up and down as your orgasm is teetering very closely.

Knowingly, Jinki looks into your eyes, hunger visible in the depths of brown. But his words are soft. 

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

With a high pitched moan, you let your climax crash into you, pussy walls clenching around his fingers that have been fucking you for a while now. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent that starts to mix with sweat. It calms you, so you breathe in more, still panting from your orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmurs into your hair, peppering kisses on the crown of your head, and you respond with a strained laugh.

"Oh my god, you're insane."

He joins in, ruffling your hair playfully. Looking back up, you see him staring at you with equal parts adoration and lust and the huge hardness underneath you calls your attention.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice is strained yet gentle, slightly concerned with the sudden silence. You look down, and he immediately knows what you're thinking.

"(Y/n), we don't have to - "

"Jinki, I want you." You lean closer, brushing your lips against his alluringly, silencing him. "I told you not to stop. Don't you want me?"

He swallows, control slipping.

"I want you so bad." He whispers, voice strained. He's devouring you with his gaze, hands cupping your face possessively. Intending to push him to his limits, you take his hand and slowly kiss each finger, pressing light pecks on the callused skin. You start sucking on his thumb, and he curses before eagerly pushing the thick finger in your wet mouth, pressing against your tongue. He's a storm about to explode, and you know it.

"Shit, I want you all for myself," Jinki grits out. He grabs your waist roughly, making you gasp around his thumb, before he pulls it out. "I want you begging me to let you cum, like you did just now."

You moan at his words, unconsciously rolling your hips to his, which pulls a pained groan from him. At that moment, you know he can't resist you anymore.

"Do you want it, sweetheart? Are you sure?" He finally asks, and you nod, eyes determined and rightfully desperate. You're a wet mess and you want nothing but to have Jinki inside of you. No longer wanting to wait, you finally go for his ear, whispering your one and only wish for the night.

"Please fuck me, Jinki. Make me yours."

He inhales sharply. With shallow breaths, he tugs you closer, kissing you deeply before shifting you in his arms. You yelp as he picks you up easily and starts walking towards your bedroom.

"There's no way we're doing it on a couch." He winks before dropping you on the bed while your squeal fills in the room.

As if there's a switch, the laughing subsides. With one glance at the man before you, you can only focus on one thing. You rush to pull off Jinki's shirt, and you marvel at his body and all the defined muscles. Taking a little too much time ogling him, Jinki chuckles, but you can hear the slight nervousness, and goes ahead to unbuckle his belt. The action jolts you back into reality, so you help him to remove the offending fabric.

Your hands are trembling, but Jinki's too, and you find comfort from it as you fumble around, too excited to care about anything else in the world.

Growing impatient, you capture his lips again which he responds to eagerly. God, his lips are soft. Your hand goes south to palm him through his briefs, trying to stimulate him more. With a muffled moan, he asserts his strength and takes your hand before flipping your position and resuming the kiss. Trapped under his strong body, you let yours go pliant as his hands explore it greedily.

He all but rips your oversized shirt before pushing you back down on your bed. Satisfied and not being able to hold himself back anymore, he cups your breast through your bra, making you gasp, and he quickly removes it before going straight to tweak a pebbled nipple. Sighing in pleasure, you move your hips upwards, needing some friction. Jinki notices it and smirks.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

Perhaps you should feel more ashamed for your wanton, but there's no remorse, only a painful need for the man before you. Who you’ve waited for so long.

You let out a whine. "Please?"

"Please what?"

"I want you inside me - oh!"

Without a warning, Jinki pushes in two fingers into your heat, the earlier wetness and your own release help in slicking his fingers.

"Like this, sweetheart?" He asks, clearly teasing you, playing with your bundle of nerves, your noises encouraging him to arouse your body further.

"Jinki, please…" You all but beg, hands reaching to touch his body, down to his cock, still in the briefs, trying to send an obvious message to your lover.

With a smile, he pulls out his fingers. Like the patient person he is, he takes his time to take off his briefs, finally freeing his hard cock. You can't help but feel intimidated by his size. Deceptively slow, he strokes himself while peering down at you, enjoying the fucked out look in your eyes and leaving you almost drooling at the sight he provides.

"God, I want you so bad," he grunts. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"It wouldn't take too long if you hadn't left," you whine instantly, making him pout.

"I'm going to make it up to you, okay, sweetheart?" He leans in, peppering kisses on your cheeks while slowly pulling your legs open. “We have all the time now.” You marvel at his gaze, loving and all heat at the same time. After wetting his cock with all your essence, he finally starts pushing in, tensing your whole body.

"Relax," he says, caressing your thighs softly and you nod, letting him push himself inch by inch. God, he's huge and he's stretching you so well.

"More," you whimper and he knows you're growing impatient as well, in one swift motion, he pushes all the way in and makes you moan in pleasure. You can feel his girth around your walls, and you clench unconsciously.

"Shit (Y/n), don't do that." He pulls back while chuckling, the tip of his cock almost leaving your core. "Let me make you feel good first."

You nod weakly, about to say something, anything but get cut off when he pushes in again, this time deeper.

"Jinki," you moan as he replies with a quiet "Okay?" To which you nod.

And he does. He slides in again, and again, and you can't even form words to save your life. His cock feels amazing, fucking you like there's no tomorrow. You pull him closer by the neck, kissing him hard and sloppy. Taking advantage of your muffled mouth, Jinki wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly and making your legs wrap around him before he starts pounding into you relentlessly. He swallows your euphoric screams, only pulling away to enjoy your expression, basking in pleasure.

As soon as his cock hits your pleasurable spot, you gasp out and clench hard, earning a guttural moan from him. "Jinki, I'm - "

"You're close, aren't you sweetheart? Are you going to cum for me again?"

"Yes! Please - oh my god," you ramble before your words turn into a high pitched moan as you feel Jinki's fingers playing with your clit. You're so close, the second orgasm already creeping up to you, more intense than the first. 

"You were so beautiful when you cum earlier, will you show it to me again?" He offers a sweet smile, contrasting the way he's pounding into your pussy and you only whimper in answer. He pinches your engorged bundle of nerves, expression turning dark.

"Answer me, can you, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" You gasp out, the stimulation jolts fire within you. "Yes, only for you Jinki."

With a particularly harsh thrust, you choke a gasp before a wave of pleasure hits you. You can feel yourself clenching uncontrollably, legs shaking as Jinki pulls you closer, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"Good girl, my good girl," he rambles, chasing his own high desperately. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, he gives one last push before groaning in release, spilling his essence inside you. You sigh with content, running your fingers in his soft brown locks. After a moment, he leaves your neck, craning his head up before smiling broadly, the post-coital glow so apparent on his face. You grin, pressing a kiss on his nose, which makes him laugh.

"Hang on," he murmurs, pulling out of you before plopping down on your side. "Hi."

"Hi," you respond, moving to his arms, grinning and giddy from your own high. He wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheeks into the skin of your neck.

"Still up to cook?" He asks, and you realize all the cooking supplies you've prepared in the kitchen. You get up, but he stops you. "Let's just order a takeout. I'll help you clean out the kitchen."

You sigh. "Fine."

"You can cook breakfast tomorrow."

You blink owlishly, which gets a sheepish smile in return.

"Can I stay over?"

A large smile blossoms on your face. "Of course."

“Give me a second then.” He begrudgingly gets up, looking slightly lost for a moment before finding his phone. The sight amuses you so much you don’t realize Jinki pouting as he makes a call.

"I won't be coming back tonight," Jinki says to the phone before a loud shouting blasts from the device. He laughs, looking behind to catch your gaze before smiling wide. "Sure, I'll introduce her later to you."

"Wha - Taemin?" A scoff. "You two have fun, then."

Finishing the call, he crawls back to your embrace in the bed, making you giggle. Jinki hums with contentment before nudging you back, wishing to see your face. You don't know what he sees, but his smile turns softer, and he really looks like the sun.

"You're insane." he half-whispers, and you laugh, boisterous and too giddy. You decide to tease him.

"But you haven't seen nothing yet."

His lips quirk into a devious grin. "Is that a challenge?"

You only smirk in reply, which encourages Jinki to lean up and try to kiss you, but something comes to your mind so you push yourself off him.

"Wait here, we need to clean up." Ignoring his disappointed look, you stand up and start to walk away. Suddenly, you hear a loud rumbling noise. When you see Jinki, he already has a hand on his stomach with only a mild surprise, like he knows it will happen sooner or later. You huff.

"And you need to eat."

He laughs, following suit only to wrap his hands around your waist, seemingly unable to detach himself from you for too long. You grumble, attempting to wrestle away from him. But he's stronger, and holds you so you're looking at him. With a voice as warm and sweet as his favorite drink, he murmurs.

"Just one more kiss, sweetheart, then dinner."

The nickname works like a charm. Albeit having disbelief in his self-control - and yours too, to be frank - you give in, relaxing your body and accepting his lips on yours again, thankful that he returns, excited for the days you'll spend together with him in your life.

[kombuuuu]

I’m back to bother you again😏

This isn’t really an x reader hc, but it still works

Miles uses the money he gets from his job as The Prowler to save up for gifts for things like his mother’s birthday and mother’s day. He loves her so much, he’s such a mommy’s boy, and he isn’t afraid to show it to her.

UGHHHH HES SOOOO A MOMMAS BOY

he’s such a little suck up too — you know for sure he would borderline cry in shame if he disappointed her

he cooks for her and cleans whenever he’s home

he knows how late she works at the hospital so he gets genuinely offended when she tries to do stuff around the house — like it’s a crime for her not to be resting

he’d buy her things he thinks helps her de-stress as well, just little things like face masks to do with him or hot compresses to pack in hey work bag so she isn’t feeling stiff in the shoulders all day

he DEFINITELY packs her work lunches, and beats himself the fuck up if he forgets — then goes and gets her favourite for her, showing up at her break times with a goofy little smile

rio is always gently telling him not to worry about her but he just looks at her all insulted

“Don’t be stressing about me, Miles —! Focus on your grades or something, Mijo! Go out — Have fun with your friends or something!”

“Momma, What man would I be to neglect you? You care for me — I care for you. Both ways.”

She’ll sigh and resign, and pinch his cheeks lovingly

“Just like your dad.”

he feels sooo guilty for the prowler stuff but knows it’s to keep her safe so he continues anyways

i think if she found out, lord knows she’d be devastated. but i feel — eventually he’ll explain to her how he’s basically doing the same thing his dad did? like protecting the city cause no one else can

she still HATES him doing it, and he’s still guilty beyond all wits

but she doesn’t make him stop, and when she flicks on the news — to see reports of the vigilante saving civilians from an attack on a busy office building, she’d be proud.

++ ALSO REMEMBER THE HEADCANON ABOUT MILES GETTING HIS NAILS DONE WITH HIS MA? AND LEARNING VIETNAMESE JUST TO HEAR THEM GOSSIP??? I STAND BY IT MANNN!!!!

[tg-headcanons]

Do you think there's regional ghoul cuisine? Obviously they have very limited ingredients but I think the (very morbid) thought of different ways of preparing humans in different ghoul cultures is kind of interesting lol.

YES YES YES GHOUL REGIONAL FOODS

Despite the common image of ghouls as feral animals hunched over corpses, there’s a lot of thought and work put into preparing and utilizing the bodies. While there’s absolutely times when they just rip in, there’s others where there’s careful consideration of taste, texture, and keeping themselves fed through shortages

Vietnamese ghouls made a human version of tiết canh, one using the same method of mixing blood with saltwater to keep it from coagulating to make a soup, but then added ground down bone. This helped them stretch a meal further by making the bones more digestible and easier for children to chew, as well as masking the truth of what they’re eating from any humans who find it. This method was especially good for ghouls who had small growing children they needed to find a way to get calcium into and quickly spread into surrounding cultures of ghouls

Speaking of blood, human blood sausages are common in Europe. Similar to the Vietnamese ghouls, they mimic their local human food with it to make something they can eat in the company of others without suspicion

Middle eastern ghouls started the practice of meat preservation, drying out cuts of human in heat and salt so it can be stored, which was especially useful for long travel through areas with few humans. This quickly spread through most of Africa and some of Europe and Asia, though the production was pretty limited to areas with access to salt and a lot of sunlight. It’s created somewhat of a culture among African ghouls who have different methods of salting and drying from different regions to trade and try them when they travel

In the Americas, ghouls had adapted to supplement their human meat diet with other animals, and while they couldn’t live on it entirely it gave them more options for cooking. Every group had some sort of recipe, those on the coasts would fry up organs with fish, those in mountains and dense forest would make stews with small game, and plains ghouls adapted for hunting megafauna would utilize Buffalo, deer, and sometimes other predators if their culture allowed it. These stews vary wildly, but the practice of mixing meats among ghouls who can digest it to stretch meals was commonplace

In Alaska and parts of Canada, indigenous ghouls used a method of natural freezing to preserve and prepare meats. Adapted for extreme cold temperatures, these ghouls would drag bodies through water, then place them in large baskets in trees or on stacked rocks if there were not trees available for them to freeze, often taking shifts guarding the spot from other predators. It was common for entire communities of ghouls to freeze bodies in one place, then come back throughout the days and weeks to eat frozen pieces at a time from the shared storage, ensuring as many people as possible could survive through shortages and the bodies wouldn’t go bad

[silantryoo]

kim minji x non-idol!pham!reader (fluff)

WARNINGS ; n/a

"if you break her heart, i'll kill you."

minji gave hanni a side eye as she straightened her hair. she never asked hanni to set her up with you in all honesty. the vietnamese girl had just approached her randomly one day, saying that her older cousin was here and that they seemed to fit well with each other.

(hanni didn't tell her the real reason she set them up was that minji was painfully single and so were you)

"it's the first date." minji turned the iron off and put it down, carefully inspecting her clothes. she tried not to dress too flashy, afraid that she was going to be recognized on the spot. "nothing bad is gonna happen."

"first dates are usually where people get murdered the most." haerin stated, laughing as hanni shot their leader a glare.

"murder her and i'll murder you."

"i won't!" minji looked hanni up and down, wondering why she was so protective all of a sudden. she looked over to the cat-eyed girl giggling beside them. "haerin, bro..."

haerin shrugged, the two girls following their leader as she went to the front door. there, both danielle and hyein were waiting, discussing which shoes would go best with the girl's outfit. minji didn't choose either.

instead, she went with casual sneakers (jordan 1 low cuts). she wasn't there to impress (liar).

hyein squealed, sitting beside the older girl as she tied her shoes. "unnie's gonna fall in love!"

minji shook her head, standing up as she grabbed her wallet. "it's just a first date."

hyein rolled her eyes, immediately squishing her own cheeks up and making a kissy face. haerin watched the younger girl with a small mischievous smile, and flicked her nose. hard. hanni laughed at the two as minji sighed, too tired (and too late) to worry about something like this. she turned to the austrailian girl.

minji shook her head as she opened the door. "dani, you're--"

"i'm in charge!" danielle gave her a reassuring smile.

"behave." she pointed at the other girls, stopping at the youngest. "i'm looking at you, hyein."

hyein looked away, rubbing her nose lightly.

"i'll be back in two hours." minji informed over her shoulder as she exited.

the girls watched as minji left. as soon as the door closed, hyein chased after the cat-like girl while hanni pulled her phone out to record.

danielle watched and took a deep breath. if this was going to make minji happy, she would do her best, even if it killed her.

minji sat idly at a bench a couple blocks away from hybe hq. she looked at her watch, realizing that she was not late at all. in fact, she had put it in her schedule that the date started at 6:30 instead of 7:00, knowing that she was going to be late.

so here she was at 6:35PM on a friday, sitting at some playground as she waited for some stranger that she didn't even know the name of.

minji sighed, feeling a light tap on her shoulder.

she turned around, seeing a slightly shorter girl than her looking down with a curious smile behind her mask. she didn't seem like a newjeans fan, most of them being younger than her. the girl seemed older, dressed in laid-back but fashionable clothes that screamed 'put together'.

"you're kim minji, right?"

minji suppressed a frown, just wanting to enjoy the night without anyone bugging her. she was grateful for her fans, but she needed some time to herself too.

"uh," minji plastered on a smile. "do you want an autograph?"

the girl in front of her laughed, her eyes turning into crescents. if minji hadn't been so offended, she would've found herself smiling back at the masked girl.

"no." you took off your mask, revealing your face. minji's eyes widened. "i'm y/n pham. well, pham y/n here."

you waited for minji to speak, watching as the surprised girl blinked at you. you looked around, wondering if she had been your cousin's member or if she was just a random girl on the park bench.

"you're my date?" minji whispered, not sure if she was dreaming.

you gave a half smile. "disappointed?"

minji shook her head. "no!"

you giggled at the girl's quick response. she expected you to look more similar to hanni, maybe a little more foreign. and as pretty as hanni was (because she is), minji didn't expect you to look so... stunning.

"i'm joking." you laughed. you looked at your watch, realizing that your reservation for 7:30 was coming up soon. you turned to face minji. "should we go?"

minji nodded with a slight blush on her face, standing up and dusting herself off. "yes."

she was definitely going to thank hanni later.

'sorry for the inconvenience but due to certain circumstances listed below, we will be closed for the rest of the day.'

minji rubbed the side of her head, staring at the piece of paper that was taped to the restaurant door.

beside her, you watched with a frown on your face. hanni had told you that she was sure that this blind date was going to be perfect because the other girl was known to plan things extremely meticulously.

you were flattered, but you honestly preferred spontaneity.

"it's okay." you reassured her, smiling at her furrowed eyebrows.

she had planned this out perfectly, even asking hanni what your favorite types of food were so she could scour the entire area for a restaurant around that price range.

"i'm so sorry." she turned around to face you. "i made a reservation and they confirmed it but i had no idea they would close today."

"it's fine, really." you smiled, turning to the piece of paper as you read the rest of the text on the bottom. "they said their cat died so..."

"oh."

you turned to minji, finding her scratching her cheek in embarrassment. you looked around, finding a small garden/playground across the street.

"i don't mind a park date." you gestured to the opposite side of the street, cracking a grin. "i could use some exercise. my legs are already starting to crack."

you offered minji your hand, watching her stare at it. she looked at you, her mask hiding her smile but you could tell from her eyes. gently, she wrapped her hand around yours, the two of you feeling soft sparks dancing up your arms.

she gave your hand a squeeze. "okay."

you gave her a smile, gently guiding her as the two of you made your way to the park. you were too focused on making it there that you didn't notice that minji had been observing you, a small smile covered by her mask.

the two of you quickly arrived, slowing down to watch as children played and as the leaves blew past the two of you. you two walked in silence for a while, taking in the feeling of ambiance around the two of you.

minji hasn't been this relaxed since before she was a trainee.

"what do you do?" she asked, making you turn your head. "like for work, i mean."

she felt you squeeze her hand, sending a blush to her face. "i'm the head graphic designer for samsung."

minji looked over at you with wide eyes.

"what?"

"yeah." you laughed as she scratched the back of her head, suddenly feeling as if she wasn't doing enough with her life. "i started when i was about 17? it's fun."

minji cleared her throat as she tried to compose herself. "so you like to draw?"

"not really." you shrugged, looking over to her with soft eyes. "i just like it when things look pretty."

"oh." minji could feel herself blushing as she lifted her mask up higher. she looked away from your teasing eyes. "that's cool."

you smiled. you couldn't help but adore minji's flustered face.

the two of you continued to walk, the sun barely out as grey clouds above your head started to form. the wind blew slightly stronger, and mothers were quietly ushering their kids away from the open areas.

you two would've noticed, if you hadn't been so occupied with each other.

"how long have you trained for?" you asked.

minji thought to herself, trying to count in her head. "i've been in the company for six years, i think."

"six?" your eyes widened. you couldn't imagine being committed for something that long just for a shot that wasn't guaranteed. "that would make you..."

"eighteen now." minji smiled at you, causing you to grin. "i started when i was twelve."

"i see." you felt yourself nod, your eyes suddenly glued to hers. "so you're younger than me. that's cute."

minji lifted her mask up again, trying to hide her face. "you like to flirt a lot, huh?"

you tilted you head. "do you not like it?"

"no," minji shook her head, moving slightly closer to you. "i like it."

you nodded, giving a small smile before feeling something land on your forehead. you looked up, noticing the gray clouds as minji looked down, seeing the splatters of water hit the ground.

she furrowed her eyebrows. there had only been a 20% chance of rain today. she had checked before leaving. if she had known it was going to rain, she would've brought an umbrella.

"oh shit." before you can register, the rain soon fell hard onto the two of you.

the sound of leaves blowing soon turned into heavy rainfall as the two of you swore at the clouds above.

luckily, you had been wearing a waterproof windbreaker. you took it off quickly and wrapped it over minji's head, guiding the two of you to the nearest overhead shelter. unfortunately, there were none in sight.

"i'm so sorry." minji shouted over the rain. she took her mask off as it was too wet to breathe in. "i really didn't know it was going to rain."

"it's okay!" you smiled, taking yours off as well. you pulled her closer to the middle of the park, the trees swaying with the strong breeze. "i like the rain."

"you're getting wet." she yelled once more, gripping the jacket over her head.

"it's just water." your eyes lit up as rain threatened to spill into them. "c'mon, kim minji. let's play together."

you gave her a warm smile, one that made her forget that she was standing in the middle of the cold.

minji found herself smiling back, taking off the jacket and no longer caring about her perfectly straightened hair that she had spent hours on.

"okay."

minji felt free.

the rain stopped ten minutes after.

the two of you spent the entire time running around the park like little kids, bringing her back to her elementary days. the two of you never let your hands go, afraid that the other would slip out of your grasp. but soon the rain took a toll on the two of you and you had to break apart.

minji didn't mind though. she's never had more fun in her life.

she watched as you squeezed out the water in your clothes, your stomach grumbling.

"i'm hungry."

minji nodded. "me too."

you looked around, finding a bright yellow cart a couple meters away from where the two of you were standing.

"that vendor is open." you pointed. the two of you walked up, minji digging in her sweater for her wallet as the two of you got closer. "bungeoppang!"

the older man looked between the both of you, a lingering stare at minji.

minji panicked for a second, realizing that she wasn't wearing her mask anymore.

luckily, you noticed and took his attention away from the idol. "can we have four custard ones please?"

the man nodded, quickly doing his job before handing over the bag of custard-filled bread.

he looked at the two of you. "ten thousand won, please."

"ten thousand? for four?" minji's eyes widened, gripping her wallet as she glared at the balding man. "are you trying to rip us off?"

"hey, lady," he snarled back. "food is expensive to make, y'know?"

minji squinted, wanting nothing more than to mouth him off but refrained from doing so. her idol image was at stake, and so was her entire date.

"minji, it's fine." she felt you squeeze her forearm, making her entire face go red. she looked away as you grabbed your wallet and paid. "here you go."

"thank you." the older man smiled and turned his head to the idol. "learn to be more like your friend."

minji scoffed as her head shot up. "you know wha--"

"thank you for the food!" you grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the man who cursed under his breath. "have a nice day!"

you continued to pull minji away, making your way back to the front of the restaurant that the two of you were supposed to go to. the two of you sat on the wet curb.

you let go of minji's arm, giving her one of the fish-shaped buns.

minji bit into it, hating the fact that it was good. "what a ripoff."

"i know, right?" you muttered with a smile, finding it cute that the younger girl was so aggravated.

she turned to you with a sorry look.

"sorry for making you pay." minji fiddled with her wallet again. "i have money if you--"

"it's just ten thousand won." you interrupted, minji watching as you got custard on your nose. "don't worry about it, okay?"

she laughed, taking another bite. "okay."

the two of you ate in silence, with you eventually realizing that something had gotten on your nose after accidentally hitting it with your hand. you wiped it off quickly as you looked at the setting sun.

"the sky is really pretty right now," you whispered, making her look up at the now cloudless sky.

minji nodded. "it is."

you turned your head towards her, carefully looking over her features. you were grateful that your younger cousin had debuted, especially since you got to meet the prettiest idol to ever walk the earth.

you bit the side of your cheek as her eyes wandered around the sky. "so are you."

minji turned to you, red dusting her entire face.

"oh."

you winced, looking back down at your food. "too much?"

"maybe." minji shrugged, moving slightly closer to you as she tried to suppress the cold finally hitting her. "but i like it."

minji watched as you nodded, wrapping your windbreaker around her. you send her a grin, your face illuminated by the fading sun. she couldn't help but stare at you as you turned your focus to your bread, devouring it like you haven't eaten for ages.

minji felt warmth spread across her shivering body.

you and minji decided to end your date soon after you had finished your overpriced food.

you were scared that she would get sick and didn't want to face the wrath (read: constant spamming) of your younger cousin asking for compensation (also read: money).

you walked her up to the hallway of the hybe dorms, looking around as the luxurious white hallways echoed in the silence.

"this is your dorm, right?" you asked softly, squeezing her hand.

you looked over to the window, swearing that you had saw your cousin's head just a second ago.

you shook your head, focusing on the girl in front of you as hyein, hanni, danielle, and haerin peaked from the blinds.

"yeah, this is mine." minji nodded. she let go of your hand gently. "i'm so sorry about the date today. if you don't want to go on a second one, i u--."

"i want to." you couldn't help but bite your lip at her confused look. "i like you, kim minji. you're cute."

"oh."

"yeah. oh." you teased, making her blush. you looked at her as she fiddled with her hands. "give me your phone."

minji nodded, swearing that she heard danielle and hyein squeal (had she lost her mind? probably). "okay."

you quickly entered your number saving it as 'y/n <3'. you gave it back to the younger girl. "text me as soon as possible, okay?"

"okay." minji nodded. she'll definitely text you tonight.

you smiled at her, the two of you staring at each other, waiting for one to speak. inside, the four members watched with bated breaths, wondering what was going to happen next.

you leaned up slightly, giving her cheek a light kiss.

"bye, kim minji." you whispered, minji realizing that this was the first time she's seen you blush.

she nodded, watching as you walked away. "bye."

her eyes trained on your fading figure as she felt herself get yanked inside.

the door closed behind her, and she immeadietly got bombarded with questions.

"i was joking about you falling in love, unnie."

"did you have fun?! did you guys kiss?"

"are you sure that was hanni's cousin? she seems too pretty."

"you wanna die, kang haerin?"

minji turned to hanni, giving her a hug. "thank you."

the four girls looked at each other.

"what the fuck, bro?"

> main masterlist.