#cue nuisances to lovers

[ghcstao3]

ghoap au with waiter!soap, who is just trying to make ends meet working at a high-end restaurant, accidentally getting himself caught up in a whole conspiracy when he refuses to let mi6 agent!ghost boss him around when a shooting starts at the restaurant during one of soap’s shifts (ghost was literally just trying to make sure soap didn’t die)

so now soap has to tag along with ghost until things are fixed because otherwise someone might come after him

#cue nuisances to lovers #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

[chaichaiiskai]

Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.

If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.

notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.

warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.

The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.

However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.

As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.

One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.

"He's there! There!"

He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.

And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.

With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.

The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.

From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.

The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.

You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.

After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.

Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.

Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.

Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.

Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.

For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.

The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.

. . .

Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.

But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.

Consuming a wasp.

The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.

Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.

Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.

Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.

. . .

The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.

Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.

Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.

And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.

You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.

To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.

Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...

#— chai’s asks. !! #— chai rambles. !! #— anonnie. !! #male reader #x male reader #amab reader #baki smut #baki the grappler smut #pickle x male reader #pickle x y/n #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle baki #baki pickle #yandere baki hanma pickle

[daedalusdavinci]

24. superbat. this motherfucker JUST got to bed if any of u assholes wake him UP

24. Protecting your lover’s sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you. thinking about.... jlas superbat. i may not have followed this prompt to the letter but its very long so you get what you get at this point

It was just one of those days- one of those nights- one of those weeks- where one problem shifted right into the next without break, and they all found themselves running more ragged than usual. In the tower, heroes everywhere seemed sluggish and exhausted, running low on sleep and worn out from the last battle. Diana had tipped onto a couch and hadn't gotten back up again, and Wally had nearly passed out in the cafeteria, starting awake and drifting off again in the middle of a burger. After being pried away from the monitors, J'onn had gone straight to his room to sleep, and there were countless others who had followed his example.

Bruce was too stubborn. Clark was reasonably sure he'd been awake longer than anyone, but Clark could still see him typing away, doing god even knew what.

"I'll sleep when I finish," he said, before Clark had even said anything.

"I wasn't going to tell you to sleep," Clark said, taking that as his cue to approach.

"Yes, you were."

"I know better." Clark set a hand on the back of Bruce's chair, glancing briefly over the monitors. Logs, security feed, news reports- all of it a huge mess of information to sort through. Someone had to do it, but that someone didn't need to be Bruce.

Bruce looked tired. His shoulders sagged and his fingers hesitated, slow on the keys. He'd been drooping all day, attacking everything with the energy of a man on his very last leg. He'd sustained too many injuries during the fight. He'd been slow, and sloppy. He needed to sleep, but he'd never let Clark talk him into it if Clark let on that that was what he was doing.

"Can you do all this from anywhere?" Clark asked.

Bruce blinked slowly. "Not from anywhere."

"But from another computer."

"Yes. I have others."

"A laptop?"

"Yes." Bruce was eyeing him with suspicion, now, leaning back in his chair.

"Then you're doing it from there," Clark decided. "You can burn your retinas to your heart's content- I won't stop you. But I need company."

For a long moment, Bruce looked at him. Clark could practically hear the gears turning as he thought it over, taking longer to consider it than he usually would in his exhaustion. Then, finally, his gaze softened. He sighed, slumping back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face. "Just don't watch one of your stupid cooking shows while I work."

"They're not stupid," Clark protested.

"Whatever." Bruce waved a hand, pushing himself up out of the chair. He hit a few more buttons, and the monitors condensed into the smallest screen, allowing Bruce to pull it off of its docking station. "Lead the way."

The tower had grown quiet and still with sleeping heroes. With his hearing, Clark could hear Booster and Ted's laughter from the cafeteria, but everywhere else had turned muffled and heavy with the air of sleep. People murmured back and forth to avoid waking up sleeping heroes in the commons, and most of the sleeping quarters were occupied. Somewhere, Wally got ready to portal home, while somewhere else, Oliver snored loudly. No one passed them on their way to Clark's room.

It was easy to get stuck on the fringes of his senses, listening to everything instead of whatever was closest. The need to keep an ear out for danger hadn't quite abided yet, and it left Clark feeling unmoored and anxious. Normally, it was a nuisance, but maybe this time it'd keep him awake long enough that Bruce would sleep first.

It was almost too easy to pile on his couch with Bruce. Normally, any attempt at getting Bruce to accept even a mediocrum of comfort resulted in a fight, but he sat without prompting, eyes never leaving his tablet. He didn't complain when Clark flopped down with a heap of blankets, even when Clark twisted to lean against the arm, swinging his legs across Bruce's lap. Somehow, they settled in like that; Bruce, on his tablet, and Clark, half-watching some nature show that was interesting enough, but not so interesting that it offended Bruce's sensibilities.

As the narrator droned on, Clark struggled to narrow in his focus. The lights from the TV flickered colors across the dark room, and it felt so quiet, surrounded by the suffocating vacuum of space. If he strained hard enough, he knew he could hear Earth, but he tried not to. He could feel each individual fiber of each blanket, and each snore in the building. The tap of Bruce's finger against the screen of his tablet felt obscenely loud. The constant shifting of his attention and the overwhelming amount of stimulus was exhausting, and he could feel himself sagging under it, so worn out that it was hard to hear the words coming from the TV. He rubbed his face, running through grounding exercises in his head to no avail. He wasn't sleeping, at least.

Bruce's hand came to rest on his knee. The pressure of it was enough to shock Clark out of his thoughts, but light, and gentle. Bruce hadn't looked up from his tablet, but his thumb tracked back and forth absently.

Slowly, Clark relaxed back into the couch again. His eyes fixed on the TV, but without really registering the pictures. He couldn't feel every fiber in the blankets, or hear every snore, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of that weight on his knee- a single point of focus that he locked on helplessly. It wasn't constant- every now and again, Bruce lifted his hand to tap the screen- but it always returned. Somehow, that caught Clark's attention more, leaving him waiting, expectant, caught on every detail of Bruce. The bracing warmth of Bruce's legs under his own, the vaguely ticklish stroke of his thumb, his breathing, steady and slow. Out of habit more than anything, he found Bruce's heartbeat, listening to the low thump of it until it felt like his own had slowed in turn. The familiarity of it was soothing, safe, protected, the reliability of the Batman unexpectedly grounding after so long.

His head slipped off his hand, and he started, eyes opening. He hadn't realized he'd closed them.

"Seems like I'm not the only one trying to stay up," Bruce commented.

"I'm not," Clark said. Although, maybe he was. He frowned through the haze of exhaustion, trying to focus on the TV.

"The life and death of a sea star are just that riveting," Bruce said, teasing under the deadpan.

"Shut up," Clark muttered, and shifted again, re-propping up his elbow on the arm of the couch.

It was difficult to understand how Bruce stayed awake. Without the cowl, the bags under his eyes were dark and deep, his expression something beyond exhausted. And yet, even now, wrapped up in blankets and secluded in the quiet comfort of Clark's room, listening to the soothing drone of a documentary, he tapped at that stupid tablet. Clark was beginning to doubt his ability to outlast him. The restless discomfort that had kept him awake earlier- his ace in the hole against Bruce's stubbornness- was fading into a sleepy warmth all too quickly.

And then, Bruce started to hum.

Clark could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he'd heard Bruce sing. Diana had once told him that Bruce had a voice so beautiful it could make a villain weep, but Clark had only ever heard it rarely, and never meant for him. It was a quiet lullaby, murmured to a baby that wouldn't stop crying as Clark searched for the mother, or a hum, pressed against Robin's hair in the aftermath of fear toxin. It had always felt like something he wasn't meant to hear. Now, through the ridiculous fog of exhaustion, Clark thought of sirens, calling soothingly to sailors from a distance.

Bruce's humming was soft and low, just under his breath. The tune was impossible to place, but haunting, and mournful. The sound of it seemed to vibrate through Clark, blanketing his senses until all he could focus on was just Bruce. Bruce was warm. He was safe, and close, and so confusingly present, as reliable as the tide. Time seemed to turn fluid, listening to that soft song, and Clark's eyes closed without his permission, just listening.

When Clark next opened his eyes, it was dark. The TV was off, Bruce's tablet forgotten somewhere in the tangle of blankets. His neck should've ached from the arm of the couch, but his head was on the cushions, propped up by a pillow. How Bruce had pulled that off without waking him, he had no idea.

Bruce was a warm weight against his chest, breathing slow. Judging by the awkward positioning, Clark doubted he'd meant to fall asleep, knees still jammed under Clark's own and cape still on. One of his hands was tucked against Clark's side, his face hidden between his own shoulder and Clark's sternum. It was... sweet, really. To have Bruce feel comfortable enough to sleep was a unique privilege, and one rarely afforded.

Clark hadn't outlasted him, in the end. But Bruce was sleeping, and as Clark let his eyes drift shut again, he allowed himself to consider it a win.

#superbat #superman #batman #bruce wayne #clark kent #tumblr drabbles #justice league animated series #justice league unlimited #asks #ashysiashy #uno reverse card clark gets taken care of trying to take care of somebody #i think he needs it. #its good for him #anyway idk if this is a good place to end this but im sick of looking at it and i have other prompts to get to

[viperwhispered]

New fic idea: Jamil VS the ex

Context: Jamil and s/o have been dating for while. Things are going great and everyone is just happy. There are no real jealousy issues on either side cause they trust each other and Jamil is confident he's the best catch around. If there is any jealousy, they talk it out like mature human beings since being petty doesn't solve anything. Though there is defintley possessiveness, it never leaves the bedroom and they both enjoy it.

Introducing the ex: just a complete toxic dump. As in, shitty romance novels stereotypical male lead toxic dump. Just controlling, verbally/emotionally abusive, physically intimidates people, tries to use sex to fix things, doesn't know when to leave their exes alone, gets physical with love rivals, etc. For reference feel free to look at Christian Grey from 50 Shades, Hardin Scott from After, and Edward Cullen from Twilight. Honestly it didn't last more than a week yet the ex continued to stalk our poor reader and ruin any attempt at a finding a new lover.

Cue them getting to NRC and finally having a chance at a relationship with our boy Jamil. But unfortunately all good things must come to an end when reader invites Jamil home to meet their family. Let's say that if the reader is not from TWST then they have a way to dimension travel and the family is in on it.

Jamil is quickly welcomed into the family and they make it clear that he's the best boyfriend the reader has had so far. The reader and their family are quick to warn Jamil about the ex and the sabotages. He learns the details from his albi's angry rants about all the bullshit this guy did.

At one point the reader turns to him and goes: "you have my permission to be as much of a possessive scheming bastard as you want. Ruin his reputation, frame him, humiliate him, I don't care! He's messed with my life far too much for me to care about him anymore. If we run into him, feel free to shove it in his face that I am yours. Hold me, kiss me, leave hickies, whatever! I trust you to know my boundaries and when to do it. Hell, if you manage to get rid of him, then we might as well skip the formalities and go straight to the alter."

Cue Jamil plotting:

1. Get the ego boost from going PDA in front of your lover’s ex. Note: make sure beloved is wearing his hoodie/jersey for maximum boost.

2. Get rid of the abusive ex who's been harming his beloved for YEARS.

3. Plan the wedding.

Meanwhile, the reader is just enjoying the extra affection while munching popcorn as their dear boyfriend gets rid of the biggest nuisance in their life. Yes they get turned on by it, especially the smirk. They're planning to thoroughly spoil him when this is over, both in and out of the bedroom.

Bonus: in your professional opinion, what route would Jamil take to get rid of the ex and how sadistic does he get?

Hasdkföjask yes just let Jamil loose on the problem and enjoy the fireworks.

Also hasdfads in my professional opinion, huh? I feel honored. 🥺👉👈

Oop this got long so below the cut it goes.

(Also boy am I glad the ex did not get to do too much lasting damage to reader’s ability to have a healthy relationship. Jamil already has enough baggage for both of them to go through. Still, someone get a restraining order on that ex, stat.)

“Yes they get turned on by it, especially the smirk.” Just… too true. Man’s just way too hot when he’s all confident and cocky I swear.

Also ngl this brand of possessive I can definitely get behind.

Also I love that tasklist, just not sure which one I love more, the note to task 1 or just the entirety of task 3. Tho of course, Jamil being Jamil (and I may or may not be projecting here) I’m sure there’d be plenty of subtasks / -steps to each of these.

(Also sidenote yes Jamil definitely would know how to turn up the charm for the in-laws for extra approval points. What a charming well-behaved young man, just delightful 😇)

Now, the options coming to my mind are:

Something “private”: only the ex (and reader) needs to know what happened exactly, but it’s enough to spook the ex and keep him in line. (I mean, getting snake whispered? Should be pretty scary, especially depending on what Jamil does with it. Oh boy, the potential.)

Something public: ruin this guy’s image, future prospects, credit score, everything, make everyone see him for the cretin he is. Might cause backlash depending on just how concerning this guy is, but also long-lasting consequences.

Ignore the gnat, just rub things in his face by just being super sweet and loveydovey wherever he happens to be without ever directly confronting him because he’s not worth the effort (not too likely, Jamil’s definitely way too petty (or incensed) to just leave it at that).

Now, getting information on people may be Azul’s specialty, but I’m sure Jamil won’t have too much trouble finding out enough (like where the ex works, lives, stuff like that. If this is a different world (or even just different country), I’m sure reader can help him with the details of what is possible and all).

And by the sounds of things, this particular jerkwad is bound to turn up anyway. So maybe it’s just a case of waiting and being ready, setting up the favorable circumstances.

So Jamil and s/o would be going out and about. Maybe to the shops, maybe just a walk outside, whatever they know is likely to land them on the ex’s path.

The thing about the hoodie is that it’s not necessarily obvious (to the ex) that it belongs to Jamil, rather than you. So he’d probably go for the jersey (since that name obviously isn’t yours (at least yet)), or weather permitting he’d only loan out his hoodie to you at an opportune time.

Like, as soon as you two realize the ex is around, you’re all oh, it sure is a little chilly isn’t it, have my hoodie my dear, it’ll keep you warm. Cue makeout session (and definitely no smug glances from Jamil to the ex, no siree. Nothing of the sort when he holds you tighter, pulls you closer, lets his hands trail along your back, into your back pockets or perhaps even under your shirt. Definitely.).

When ex comes over, you’re conveniently in a public place (probably conveniently within sight of cameras, too, so there’d be something on record to go to authorities with, if needed, and for extra consequences).

I’m thinking Jamil might be all “innocent”, at least overtly (and as much as he can hold himself back - he’s used to mingling with the high and mighty and keeping face, but this is more personal) - tho there might be some underhanded barbs with plausible deniability, or just all the casual things about how you’re Jamils and how you’ve been together for however long and how Jamil just met your parents etc. Basically just reminding the ex of what he can’t have.

Tho once Jamil distances himself (and you), from the guy, I could see Jamil going to somewhere more secluded (with or without you, depending on how you agreed in advance). And if and when the ex follows, he gets a very different side of Jamil. Sharp tongue, no holds barred, told in no uncertain terms how pathetic and despicable he is, and to keep away from you, your family, and anyone else who has any connection to you. But especially you.

The only problem I have is thinking of just what he’d do to seal the deal. I mean, probably Jamil would make the guy do something bad / unpleasant with snake whisper. Like, make the dude do something humiliating, film it and leave it on his phone for him to find later? Make him go out into the crowds to make a fool out of himself? (Perhaps in a location with his friends / family / whatever around?) Get him to send some very terrible messages to some folks?

I think I’m a bit too nice to think of just how far Jamil could go, and snake whisper does have its limitations, too. Like to really ruin someone, you need to do something more impactful than just one unfortunate action.

(I mean I suppose maybe he could make the dude kill someone and go to prison for that but yeah let’s not.) Robbery, tho? I’m sure there’s some sort of a crime we can squeeze out of the guy that would not be too bad for bystanders (not that Jamil would be that bothered, tbh) but would still be enough of a consequence, and which could still be achieved with snake whisper.

That, or just make the guy walk into a cesspit or something, especially if it’s right before something important.

I’m kinda just spitting this out (and brain’s a bit fried) but also this was such a juicy concept I had to jump on it.

Honestly I feel like there’d be so much more to be said just for the PDA part and the possessiveness and protectiveness Jamil would feel and everything else, and maybe I’ll get back to that another time.

Did you have any particular thoughts of how you think it might go?

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #ner talks #chatting with folks #lex752 #feels like there's so many more things I could be touching on here but this already is long and also my brain is hitting capacity #eta: tumblr why do you insist on dragging my readmores halfway down the post from where I place them? 😤

[songbirdseung]

sin and suds / kang taehyun

nonidol!taehyun x reader

established relationship au, angst, fluff (if you squint), relationship turmoil.

wc: 868

synopsis: you and your lover, taehyun are having a falling out.

If you had to look back at how all this started, you would be lost. The two of you always seemed to be in the honeymoon phase, even after 3 long years of being together. At least according to the observations of those around you.

The two of you had a close to perfect relationship with the two of you knowing how to communicate and being mature with each other and the emotional turmoil.

But for the past four months, things have changed and the "honeymoon phase" is looking more like a "divorce phase". With the way you two would refuse to look, hold, or speak to one another. Despite living in the same house, one of you always makes the decision to sleep on the couch, each at a different time, or simply avoid one another.

It has become too much of a trouble and nuisance, that even your friends don't want you guys around. Afraid of a possible argument to come up or the awkwardness between you too to ruin the mood for everyone else.

"No offense guys...but I think it's better we don't meet up till you make up" Huening Kai said that four months ago. Since then, you'd meet up with them separately. Each time, you two would get an earful from all of your mutual friends. Begging for you guys to fix it or break it.

It's not like you stopped loving him, heck. How you not?

You sit on your bed, eyes roaming around the cold empty like room. Trying your hardest to think back to the root cause of this predicament you both were in.

With nothing coming to mind, you sigh and place your face into the palms of your hands, raising your legs off the ground and bringing them to your chest. Sitting there, you slowly started overthinking, which led you to start crying in the fetal position.

The echoes of the past reverberated with a haunting clarity. You grappled with the regret of not addressing the cracks sooner, realizing that the attempts to cleanse the relationship were futile, much like washing away the indelible marks of spilled ink on a love letter.

As you let yourself fall into the mattress and continue to cry, on cue, your lover walks through the door after a long day at work. Initially, he was just going to shower and head back out to the guest room. But that changed when his point of view had the sight of you sobbing on your guys' bed. "Love?" the endearment that you haven't heard for so long, the voice that you missed listening to, you finally got to hear it, especially when the voice held the soothing, loving, and caring sound it usually did. Not the voice that would yell back and argue with.

You were hesitant to look at him but after another call of the name, you did. Tears still running down your face as you looked back at him and said "oh your back home, do you need privacy? I can leave the room" In a hurry you make your way to the door.

"No, why are you crying?" He takes a hold of your shoulders to get a good look at you. Not giving up as you continue to shake your head and tell him it's nothing. "I know it's 'nothing', just tell me" giving pleading eyes, you remove his hands off you.

"You know why, us." four months was long enough, there was no way you were going to make it to five months without being in good terms with him. "I'm crying because of us, Taehyun."

"I want to wash away this feeling of not knowing where this relationship is heading."

"I want to wash away all my freaking sins I made that caused us to be in this situation."

You tried your best to lay it all out and to not break down even more in front of him that you sound incoherent. He stands there, taking it all in. Listening to you and whatever you had to say.

"Baby, it's not all your fault. I had my own share of mistakes and wrongdoings." you and Taehyun finally decided to confront the unresolved emotions that lingered between you. The air was charged with a mix of tension and anticipation as you shared your thoughts, baring your souls like an overdue confession. The house became a haven for honest conversations, where the weight of unspoken words gradually lifted.

Taehyun, with sincerity in his eyes, acknowledged the flaws and missteps that led to the rift. You, too, laid bare your vulnerabilities and the secrets you had kept hidden. As the minutes passed, the space between you seemed to bridge itself, much like the rain washing away the stains of the past.

The conversation became a cathartic release, and in that vulnerable exchange, you both found a path towards healing. The closure you longed for finally materialized, and the connection between you and Taehyun felt stronger than ever. The house, once a witness to unspoken pain, now echoed with the quiet triumph of reconciliation, a testament to the enduring power of open hearts and honest dialogue. It was finally home.

#txt #tubatu #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together #txt taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun imagines #txt imagines #txt post #txt x reader #taehyun #chasing that feeling

[thebahwrites]

I don’t care your favorite one

You have given me power...

CYMAV HEADCANON LET'S GO

I may have spent too long thinking about widower! Maverick after Iceman's death being a thorn on Cyclone's side because, and I'm backed up by canon here, that's literally just how Maverick interacts with people. He's a nuisance, he's a problem, he's ANNOYING AS FUCK. Hell his first interaction with Charlie was literally getting all of the O-Club to sing a stupid song and bother her into accepting his drink.

(more under the cut because this is, as per usual, a rant)

And then his husband of 30+ years is dead and he's still patching things up with Rooster, this man really has no one and we don't really do emotional maturity in this house, do we? So cue Maverick absolutely TORMENTING Cyclone's life. Deadass pigtail pulling without even knowing he's doing that.

And then Cyclone begrudgingly seeing on him the same thing Iceman did. Not only he's an amazing pilot, because one can not argue that even if they hate Mav so much (mwah mwah mwah Adm. Cain), but the younger pilots look up to him. And he's a fun guy. And he cares so much. And Cyclone wants to hate this little man so much, God he does.

He doesn't follow rules, he gets himself in trouble, he fights uphill and swims upstream and well, how can you not fall for someone like that when you've spent your entire life following rules and regulations to a T?

It doesn't even starts as a romantic thing, it's ye old "rivals" to friends to lovers but with old men and I like it okay. I like my old men. I like the idea of a divorcee skeptical Cyclone who's too busy with his career and doesn't believe in love anymore cause he neglected his previous partner and they left. I like the idea of widower Maverick who's been with the same man for so long that now he's gone he loses his center of gravity and doesn't quite know how to be alone anymore but also doesn't want anyone else (at first) because who could ever compare?

And then it's not about comparing or even looking for the same things, it's about moving on, because life does that. Life moves on and all you can and should do is try to be happy again even if it seems impossible. (I also have another smaller hc that Cyclone was a lot more like Maverick when he was younger, hence the callsign, but it got beat out of him in time. So he just... admires Maverick for actually not letting his own fight die down 40 years down the line. For remaining exactly who he is.)

HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR ANON

#bah answers #cymav #cyclone x maverick #pete maverick mitchell #beau cyclone simpson #OLD MEN IN LOVE IS MY JAM #do I think about this a lot #yes

[wordborne]

All for Us

Jerome Valeska finds someone new to torment.

That someone is, unfortunately, you.

TAGS: Jerome Valeska/Reader, alternate universe, unhealthy relationships, bad decisions, canon-typical violence, major character death, eventual smut, Jerome can only be classified as nuisance to lover. CHAPTER: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 /8 A/N: This one is in Jerome's POV! Hope you like it <3

Jerome hated this whole thing. The lone key with a J keychain on it. The mismatched tiles on the stairs. The quick push and pull he had to give the door if he wanted to open it in the first try.

But, most of all, he hated that your apartment felt like home now. 

There was nothing special about it. Maybe it was the tobacco and honey candle in the living room whose scent somehow filled even the darkest corners of the apartment. The worn leather couch that now had a dent on his spot. The old TV he’d kicked over and over again when it decided to show nothing but fuzzy static. Or, maybe, it was the fact he’d claimed this place as his, and he’d skin alive anyone who dared to touch a single hair on that pretty little head of yours. He didn’t do love, no. Because that was a weakness. Something to be dangled above his head when he went a little too far. Cue the kidnapping and the phone pressed to his ear with nothing but sobs coming from the other end of the line along with his name and ‘please’ peppered in there, somewhere. And him, the hero, coming to rescue the damsel in distress. Nah. That wasn’t his style. But, somehow, this whole thing was. The domesticity of it all had a certain allure he couldn’t find at the hideout. There was no shouting. No graffiti on the walls. No laughter echoing through the place. There was… stillness. Peace. The sort he detested but strangely craved. Or at least he craved this version of it. Maybe it was something in the water. In the way the city looked out your window. In how your pillows sunk under the weight of his head as he laid down, not bothering to get the hair out of his face because he knew you’d do it once you straddled his hips. All he had to do was close his eyes and let you do your thing until it lulled him to sleep. Jerome still didn’t understand why you did it. Hell, you’d even added a repairing night cream to the million things you put on his face, as if it would magically make it smooth again. It was a meticulous process. One that required a certain order for it to ‘work’. Everything was labeled with a little number on the lid because you were sure that, if it wasn’t, he’d do it all wrong -if he even bothered doing it himself, that was. Which he wouldn’t. Your hands were softer. 

And, maybe, his skin felt better. Was a little less puffy. The scars under his eyes were a little less visible. His lips were smoother. But he didn’t care about those things. Jeremiah would, probably. But Jerome? Never.  He didn’t have the time to follow a whole beauty routine. A shower and a change of clothes had always been enough. Had to be enough because he needed to be glued to his brother’s side when things got ugly. And they always did. Jerome was the one who screamed back. The one who pushed and shoved. The one who took the closed-fist punches and scratches his whore of a mother gave him from the neck down to hide the evidence. He’d tire her out. Laugh at her until his lip got busted and his skin was red, black, and blue so that all ‘Miah would get was a backhanded slap followed by hollow praises of him being a good boy. Jerome was the black sheep. The problem child who stole food from the kitchen and rightfully got his hand dunk in boiling soup. The unruly son who kept getting detained until midnight by worn-out mall cops for stealing brainy books for ‘Miah- they always got the hardcovers in his hands, but never the slim paper covers he shoved down his pants. The twin that should’ve been eaten in the womb because he dared to yell at their mother for leaving a used fucking condom on his bed. Oh, the things he’d seen. The things he’d heard. It was a miracle he had a libido after all that shit.  Anyways. He liked being taken care of. He knew that much. And this felt like finally dropping a load inside someone after a dry spell. Pure. Bliss. But this one didn’t last a few seconds, and he didn’t have to zip his pants up in a hurry or tell them to fuck off right after. It was a soft wave coursing through his body with no end in sight. It was warm. It was tender. It filled him just so. Scratched an itch he didn’t know he had and made him crawl back there, back home, more than he should have. Yeah, yeah, it was a problem, and it was reckless, and blah blah blah. But he could handle it. He wasn’t a ten-year-old who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing anymore. He was Jerome fucking Valeska. And he was in love. …Or obsessed. The line between those things was very blurry.

He didn’t know what love felt like. Didn’t know if whatever he felt when he was a child was love or simply a sense of fondness for certain people. A lack of irritation. A need. A want. Someone who could fill the void.  And you were doing that just fine. But, oh, he knew that look on your face. The one you’d been showing him more and more as time went by. That was love. Pure and raw. Love directed at him, and him only. He could pull it, break it, and staple it back together just like he did to his face. But he wasn’t going to, no. You were a tricky one. A thorn in his side. And people weren’t supposed to take out whatever they’d impaled themselves with, now, were they? So he’d let you there. Digging in bit by bit, inch by inch, until you were stuck inside of him.  Why? Cause he needed you just as much as you needed him. Wanted you just as bad. Something was there. Calling him. Haunting him. He wanted you to feel him every walking second, just like he felt you in that little annoying thorn stuck between his ribs.  You were meant for each other. Bound together by an invisible force he couldn’t quite understand. And he’d never let you go. 

#Gotham #Gotham TV #Jerome Valeska #Jerome #Jerome Valeska/Reader #Jerome/Reader #Fanfiction #my stuf

[tainticide]

to my dead lover.

if the crimson words discover you, i've had the pleasure of doing so too. these notes shape a piercing hymn that takes its cue from your eyes. if news of your utter silence were to reach me, your essence would linger within me. as much to venerate you as to abhor you, i would write to the cloudy plains that remain unvisited, those where the rising held our rivalry. the aversion could have stopped at a few caresses if our mutual thirst had been quenched there, only the presence of your ghostly fingers against the curve of my back, the sighs of your last thoughts hitting my neck and your cruel, heart-rending words lifted my deep avidity. in wishing you away, i hoped to find you again. our antagonisms have always been a nuisance to one and all. woe betide them. take my life if it's to get to you, yours will be mine in return.

#prose #writeblr #spilled ink #writings #lost letters #obsessive #i hate you #hate #loss #grief #cw #longing #heartache #writing

[sheepyazi]

"When you lose someone you love, sometimes you'd do anything to bring them back, to even get the chance of seeing their face again.. Now tell me, Frenchman, what are you willing to do? Because.. You do want him back.. Don't you?"

Might actually make a story out of this. So, basically, Sniper shuffled off the mortal coil somehow leaving Spy absolutely distraught. This is the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and, due to their age difference, he assumed he'd be the one to go first. He's devastated and has been trapped in a downward spiral ever since, drinking himself into a near constant stuper, stealing Medic's needles just to escape to a happy funland for a while, and adamantly (sometimes almost violently) refusing to take off Sniper's old jacket, one of the few things he has left of the man he loved so much.

And then cue Merasmus coming into the picture. He sees Spy, this incredibly vulnerable shell of a man that's basically always under the influence of something or other and he gets an idea, going over to him with a little proposition: he kills the rest of his team and gathers their blood and souls, and Merasmus brings Sniper back to life. Feels like a win win in his books since he could always kill the two lover birds himself later and how could Spy refuse?

In Spy's head they've all just been trying to prevent him from coping, from numbing the pain he's felt ever since Sniper passed, getting rid of that nuisance in exchange for seeing his beloved again? Sign him the hell up! But that bravado didn't last when he realized that everyone was just trying to help, to drag him out of his rutt and away from his self destructive behavior..but he's too deep to back out now.. Merasmus looming over his shoulder. "You want him back.. Don't you?"

And here's an alt. for confusing a Sniper bot for the real man while hallucinating and getting roped into being mind controlled into helping Grey Mann with his robotic conquest plans

#tf2 spy #tf2 fanart #tf2 sfm #sfm render #my sfm #I edited this in Procreate #fanart #team fortress 2 #Tw blood #tw angst #tw drug mention

[thebisexualdogdad]

Could you please do an Alec Lightwood x downworlder reader. Reader has been a nuisance to Alec for some time. An enemies to lovers type of thing. Thank you!

Co written with @inhumanshadows

· You're a seelie who is constantly playing tricks on Alec but is always there to assist him in times of trouble and always having him do ridiculous tasks in return

· Alec is like “don’t you have other things to do?” 

· “Nope none at all. The queen prefers me not in the court" 

· "Why because you're a pain in the ass?" 

· "Only for you i am"

· “Angel help me...”

· “And I must be a big pain in the ass for you to be aware of it. I mean your ass is as the mundanes have said a dump truck.”

· Alec glares at you but on the inside he's melting at you complimenting him

· And alec is like “wait I have a what?” And he goes to clary

· "Uh it means you have a nice butt" 

· "A nice butt?" 

· Izzy yelling in the background "it means he wants your gigantic ass!"

· Clary: “bingo!”

· “My butt isn’t that big is it?” *looks back*

· Izzy: “no no. He means it in a good way.”

· you being at the Institute is Alec's worst nightmare

· "stop touching things!" 

· "but this blade is so shiny" 

· "Isabelle take that sword away from him!" 

· "wow look at this one! It's even bigger!" 

· Jace giggling in the corner "that's what she said" 

· One time you helped Alec take down a group of rogue vampires who were killing people and as payback you had Alec clean your apartment... Shirtless

· You take pictures and Alec rolls his eyes

· "I'll be saving those for later" 

· Alec with a duster in his hand "did you say something?" 

· "Oh nothing"

· Alec sees dust on an old low shelf and you take pics of his fat ass stretching his jeans.

· “Suffocate me...”

· “Heard that. Don’t tempt me.”

· “Oh trust me we’re thinking two different types of suffocation"

· Another time you made Alec work for your help 

· "Say the magic pretty boy" 

· "...please" 

· "Hmm that doesn't seem to be enough, what's in it for me?"

· “Ugh... I don’t know...”

· "Well then I guess you don’t need my help all that badly.”

· “Why you!!”

· Cue izzy- “why don’t you guys join us for dinner or something.

· "Dinner with the handsome shadowhunter, I like the sound of that" 

· "You know Izzy and the others will be there too" 

· "But you'll be the only one in the room I see" 

· And Jace is gagging and mutters to Clary, "can they just go on a date already"

· “I could say the same about you and Simon.”

· “This is not about me.”

· You end up spending the entire dinner flirting and annoying Alec 

· Izzy whispers to Alec "y/N and Alec sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g" 

·"Not funny Isabelle"

· You: "it's a little funny" 

· After dinner you're both hanging out on the terrace

· "so what's your deal?" You ask Alec

· "I don't have a deal" 

· "Yes you do, I hit on you, I annoy the shit out of you and you let me do it because you're into me"

· Alec remains silent and turns away from you. "You didn't say no..."

· "You just! I don't get you!!"

· You pull him into you and kiss him

· You're practically making out when Izzy accidently interrupts you 

· "Oh sorry, uh dessert is ready but I guess you're having dessert of your own" 

· "Izzy!"

#shadowhunters imagine #alec lightwood imagine #alec lightwood x reader #alec lightwood x male reader #x male reader #headcanons #co write #inhumanshadows

[kuroos-moon]

『Hate’s Twin Called Love』

— request by anon whose initial ask i could no longer find 😫

❥ pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

❥ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, denial  

❥ warning/s: language

❥ wc: 2.4k 

“I got here first,” you frown, narrowing your eyes as you placed a hand on the chair nearest to the window. 

“I placed my bag here, which means I got here earlier,” he casually replies, wondering why you won’t back down despite your height difference and his intimidating facade. 

Your frown deepens, and he does the same when neither of you give in. “I don’t care, I wanna sit here,” you say, your inner brat surfacing just because the way he glared at you ticked you off, so you stubbornly sit on the desk. 

“What a nuisance,” he grunts, sitting down on his chair as he rightfully should. 

Ever since then, you never passed up the opportunity to piss him off or give him even the slightest inconvenience of the day, devilish, you’re well aware. He’s the devil himself though, and only you could point that out. With him showing a sly grin your way when you lose a pen, only for him to proudly use it for you to see. 

“Hajime you asshole, give me back my pen,” you give him a death glare, and he innocently looks at you, acting confused. “I don’t have it, y/n.”

“Cut the bullshit, that’s my only one,” you grimace, irritated at the fact that of all the numerous pranks he could do on your never-ending war ever since highschool, he just had to steal your pen right before a test. 

“Don’t blame me when you’re the one who lost it,” he blinks, perfecting the art of acting clueless. “Give it back I don’t have another one!” You raise your voice, and he stops scribbling, looking at you in amusement. 

“What?” You huff, and he only chuckles under his breath, momentarily biting your pen to further irritate you. “I’ll fucking kick your ass after this,” you bite your tongue, wanting to scream at him if it weren’t for the many other students and a strict teacher here with you. 

And that’s just one of many encounters with the sly seemingly-mature ace who knew just how to annoy you like it were his second nature, but deep down, your day’s never complete without the usual sarcastic banters or the subtle mouthing of ‘fuck you’ or ‘whatcha looking at’ between classes, that’s why you sit bored in class for a few days when they’re excused for practice. 

Your happiness literally comes from seeing him so mad that he’s speechless as he sees you’ve uploaded an embarrassing baby picture source: oikawa or as he realizes you’re the one who’s been giving away his number. 

For him, you’re the exact same, you’re the devil’s spawn. Trotting along so casually as if you were an angel, only for the disguise to fall off the moment you open your mouth, profanity after profanity especially when you were talking to him. It wasn’t long before your string of curses was music to his ears and the highlight of his day, taking pleasure in having you yell at him, or in especially irritating occurrences, you’re throwing things at him. 

It just so happens when you’re casually sitting in the corner of the room, minding your own business as you listen to music. “Y/N-CHAAN!” You look up to see Toru, out of breath as he leant on the doorway of your classroom . “Iwa-chan’s talking with some girl, come look,” he grins, and just like that, your eyes twinkle with excitement. 

Time to to get back at him for that ruined test, you smirk to yourself, the clueless Iwaizumi standing at the end of the stairwell as he flirts with the poor girl who didn’t know at all how much of an asshole he was. 

“Babe!” You exclaim, the fakest and widest smile on your lips as you throw yourself at him, loving how he cringed away from you the moment you wrap your arms around his torso. “What the fu-

“I missed you, shall I come over tonight?” You gush at him, locking your hold on him with intertwined fingers as he tried to push you off without actually using too much force to hurt you. “Cut it out, you little shit,” he mumbles to your ear as he stills, waiting for you to unwrap yourself from him. 

“Who’s this Iwa-chan? Is she a friend?” You say enthusiastically, the deadly aura he gave off only making you want to piss him off more. “Iwaizumi is she your girlfriend? I thought you hated each other,” she raises a brow and you smile, looking up at Iwa. 

“That’s just our love language though, isn’t it babe?” 

He has had enough. It’s been days since you’ve bantered, the only interaction the past few days were the failed attempts to trip each other in the halls, but he wasn’t in class the whole week. Some part of him thought that he was relieved in your absence, but lately he’s been feeling empty. 

“Iwaizumi?” The blonde girls huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“Iwa-chan, doesn’t she know how much you love me?” You pout, squeezing his bicep which you really hadn’t realize was this rock hard until now. It was the look of annoyance and pure hatred that made you smirk for only him to see, but you thought wrong. 

He wasn’t mad because you interrupted his romantic stairwell rendezvous, nor was he mad that you literally show up out of nowhere, being this close to him. He was irritated because you thought you were winning, you thought you were pissing him off; but joke’s on you, he actually found himself amused by this whole ordeal. 

“Babe let’s just go, you’re not cheating on me are you?” You add fuel to what you thought was a burning flame, thinking you had succeeded on ruining his day. 

“How ridiculous, you know I only have eyes for you,” he leans down, a teasing and excruciating mere inch between your faces, the side of his lips curving upwards so subtly you’re not sure it’s really there. Your eyes widen, and his grin grows as he could practically feel you stop breathing. 

He watches you storm off, knowing fully well he was victorious for this round. 

Iwaizumi - 1 

Y/n - 0 (Loser) 

The game against Seijoh and some other school was over, and like every other game, you got first-row seats, it was the one and only time wherein you actually admire Hajime (admittedly). You stood outside, waiting for your friends to finish gushing over Oikawa and you look up questioningly when you see pairs of shoes on the ground. 

“Uhm, do you guys want something?” You ask, confused, somehow feeling ganged up on with three girls surrounding you. 

“We’ll cut to the chase, stay away from Hajime,” she spitefully says, and you snort the moment you hear his name. 

“You don’t even have to beg me for it,” you say and they furrow their brows. “You’re acting so coy! Pretending to be some goofy girl who tries to piss him off only to get to spend more time with him!” 

You sigh, “I’d kill to have him away from me for as long as possible, what are you guys even on about?” 

“Just stay away from him y/n l/n, he’s mine.” Cue another chuckle from you, “yours? I question your taste but Hajime doesn’t belong to you,” you sweetly smile, not knowing where the sudden irritation came from. 

Seriously, how could she say he was hers when he probably doesn’t even know her name like the stupid non-caring jerk he is, but you somehow thank him for it, somehow relieved that he could barely name a girl in your class that wasn’t you. 

“What do you know?!” She seethes, about to land a palm right across your cheek but it doesn’t come, instead, she stood petrified as she meets Iwaizumi’s gaze, securely standing behind you as he firmly grasped her wrist.  

“That’s quite enough,” he glares, the girl immediately withdrawing her hand. “What are you here for?” You bitterly ask, the previous encounter in the stairwell still having your hate meter for him past its max. 

“Y/n-baaaaka, where’re those killer moves of yours that almost have me injured all the damn time,” he says, his lips tugging downwards as he looked at you, and you stiffen under his touch when he rests his elbow on your shoulder. Now looking at the girls, “You’re quite the troublesome bird-brained bunch, pathetic too. You better not come anywhere near us again,” he grunts, a dull ring to it in fact; but his usual voice was also usually intimidating, hence the effortless success of scaring away the girls for good. 

You scoff, “what’s with the sudden chivalry?” 

He raises a brow at you before a scowl forms at his lips, “shouldn’t you thank me?” 

“What? For coming to my rescue? How charming, nothing less to expect from our ace,” you huff, turning around to walk away. You know how much he disliked you, so why was he being kind? Why do you a favor and rest his elbow on your shoulder and act like friends, maybe lovers— you recall the position you were in last time, you clinging to his arm while he leaned in, face painfully close to yours. 

“Did you really mean that? You’d kill to have me away from you,” he chuckles, “what strong emotion,” and you halt, turning around to look at his expression which resembled the masking of hurt. “You were listening?” You ask, but he merely walks towards you.

“Thought I’d hear some sort of love confession,” he stops a foot away from you, “but that was fucking disappointing.” You’re beyond confused at this point, why in the world would he expect a confession out of you? YOU of all people, you’re enemies, same sides of a pole that simply will and never attract. 

“What would you have wanted me confess?” You narrow your eyes at him; your pathetic attempt to be defensive when in reality your walls were all crashing down, and he’d be free to walk in and capture you his; vulnerable and genuine, free from your lies and forced obliviousness. 

“I’m exhausted,” he says, leaving you stupefied when he holds your chin between his thumb and index, warm from having spiked the ball multiple times as the ace from the game earlier on. “I don’t give a fuck, just keep your fucking hands off of me Iwaizumi,” you glare, making him grin. 

“You swear a lot with that pretty mouth of yours,” he presses on you more, knowing this would either be a hit or miss. A hit for when you crumble and give in to him, spilling the truth about how you truly felt which he has long figured, because he can’t be the only one who felt this way, no? 

The miss wouldn’t be much of a miss though, he’d still love it if you exploded, punching him or something but at the same time postponing your long overdue truthful conversations because you convinced yourself too much that love and hate were separated by a thick line, which was far from how it actually was. 

“I hate you,” you spat, but he can’t see any hatred in your eyes at all. “Does that mean you don’t want me?” He taunts, his lips inching closer and closer to yours. You only find yourself looking down, unable to breathe at the suffocating feeling of having your emotions come out all at once. 

love or hate, which was it? The latter. No, it couldn’t be, you wouldn’t be finding yourself getting lost in his eyes if you did truthfully despise him. Then, was it the former? Perhaps... Maybe... Probably explaining why you were going to say it, “if you don’t kiss me right now, Hajime, I will.” 

Bingo, he wins, it was a hit. 

In one swift motion, he locks lips with you, your hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders as he tilts his head sidewards to deepen the kiss, not wanting to spare an inch of your mouth. It was the perfect kiss, one to show your yearning for the other through questionable means such as inconveniencing the other’s life, and one to express the raw passion of love that without a doubt made every bit of you ecstatic. 

“Oya, Oya, what’s this?” Oikawa’s annoying voice reaches his ears, Iwaizumi pulls away with one last peck on your lips. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he mutters under his breath, Toru flinching before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, well then, I’ll leave you two to it,” he grins, waving at you before running off. 

“So you’ve had a crush on me all along, huh,” you smirk at him, his ears turning red as he looks at you. You snicker, poking at him teasingly as he covers his face with his hand. 

“Don’t push me,” he finally says, and you let out another laugh, of course you’re going to push his buttons, “eh, so what are we now, babe? I don’t think I like you at all, honey, that was charity.” 

“Charity?” He muses, grabbing your wrist to whisper closely in your ear, you gasp, his breath against your skin leaving you flustered. “If anything, all I did was fan service.” HE HAD YOU ALL FLUSTERED AND SPEECHLESS AND FOR WHAT? 

You push him away, irritation making you want to breathe fire, “FAN SERVICE?” You exclaim, wearing the deepest frown he had seen on you making him laugh. 

“Kidding, kidding,” he nonchalantly says, and you scowl, “I hate you.” 

“If you hate me so much then why not go out with me?” He says, all seriousness in his tone.

“What?” You blink, that was sudden.

“You should date me, cling to me, piss the fuck off other girls who try to get in between, and make sure I see your face everyday, that would ultimately make me miserable, and you hate me so much that you want that, don’t you?” He finishes, hands in his pockets as he looked straight at you. 

This time, he actually feared how this would turn out. He had revealed his cards already, there’s no going back to normal after this, things could only go from being strangers or to being lovers. 

“Sure, let’s date. Give me the luxury to annoy you everyday, and you better not break up with me for it,” you smile, and he chuckles, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Then don’t break up with me if I make you mad like ten times a day,” a soft subtle smile plays at his lips while you both walk hand in hand together outside the building, the sunset striking so beautifully at the two of you but you didn’t have much time to admire it as you were kept preoccupied with each other’s conversations. 

_____________________

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh 

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #hq #hq scenarios #hq headcanons #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff

[cinlat]

Whumptober 2021: Day 23

No. 23 - YOU BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT auction | ransom | pursuit Characters: Sith Fynta Fandom: swtor Affiliated Fic(s):  Whiskey and Tihaar  &  Top Shelf  

Word Count: 819 Rating: T Guest: Ucevi ( @tishinada​)

It took a monumental act of will not to snap the man’s neck when he grabbed her ass. Fynta stared into the starburst eyes of the Rodian, playing the part of rebellious captive rather than a supplicant slave. He wasn’t her target, merely a nuisance keeping Fynta from doing her job.

Taking his cue from the hospitality droid, the Rodian moved on to allow the next customer to examine Fynta in her display case. She sighed and expanded her senses to search the room for targets of interest and felt something...unexpected. Standing taller, Fynta swept her surroundings, finally spying the swish of golden shimmer silk that slid seductively over the taut muscles that she’d once known so well. Their eyes met, and Fynta felt the floor drop from beneath her feet.

Ucevi recovered faster, her shocked expression morphing into laughter as she tapped glasses with a Ratattaki in a tailored suit. Bands of grief tightened around Fynta’s chest until she couldn’t breathe. She’d forged a bond with that woman, and considered her one of the few honest Sith in the Empire. They'd spoken of their mutual desire to see the end of the slave rings. Seeing her old lover, after so many years, from the wrong side of the glass did unexpected things to Fynta’s emotions. 

Fynta took an unconscious step back when Ucevi started towards her. Then, the lights blinked out on the merchandise, followed by an announcement that biddings would close in five minutes. Her box slipped silently into the floor, coming to rest on the cold metal grates that lined the slave quarters.

A plan formed in Fynta’s mind while she waited. Whoever purchased Fynta would likely want a demonstration upon receipt of their product. When the shield dropped, she’d dispatch the bastard on the other side and slip into the hallways that led to the bidding floor. Fynta had a target in mind, she’d seen which room belonged to him, but another matter needed her attention first.

Gears groaned, signaling the beginning of dispersal. Cries of alarm were accompanied by the dead-eyed stares of people who had been through this before. Fynta crouched, tightening her muscles in a rhythm to keep them loose. Her box stopped below a hatch, then slid onto the gravlift.

Fynta rose, weight balanced on the balls of her feet, shoulder width apart. Every nerve in her body felt taunt and on the edge of snapping when the gentle brush of another mind scattered her rage. Golden shimmer silk came into view as Fynta rose above the floor, and the shield dropped before her platform had clicked into place.

Ucevi leaned against the side of her sofa, arms folded with the controller to Fynta’s shackles bobbing in one hand. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

The arrogance in the Sith woman’s tone lifted Fynta’s hackles. “I could ask the same of you.” Fynta let her gaze track over Ucevi’s dress, lifting her lip in a sneer. “I recall you having better taste.”

The Sith let out a humorless laugh and took two steps to close the gap. They were almost the same height while Fynta stood on her stage, but Ucevi still filled the room. “I just blew my mission for you.” She lifted the remote and made a point of pressing the button that released the collar around Fynta’s neck. “You’re welcome.”

Fynta blinked, then her bows lifted with realization. “Mission?” She jumped off the stage, noting the plush carpet between her bare toes as she followed her old friend to the small bar. “Shab, Ucevi, what are you doing here?”

“My job.” The Sith woman offered Fynta a shot of whiskey, then gestured at the scraps of fabric that barely covered Fynta's body. “You?”

Fynta accepted and made an appreciative sound as the alcohol burned a smooth path to her stomach. Setting the glass down, she watched her toes curl in the plush fibers. “Same. Had to come in the back door.” 

The silence stretched long enough for Fynta to lift her gaze. Ucevi wore the familiar smirk that had gotten them into so much trouble in the past. She leaned back against the table, letting her skirt’s slit ride up enough to display a single, crimson thigh. “Would you like to help me dismantle an unauthorized slave ring? For old time sake?”

Fynta reached past the Sith’s waist to pour another drink. She let her gaze linger on the cutouts of Ucevi’s blouse, mostly to buy time to clear the guilt from her frantic thoughts. She’d assumed the worst because her old friend was a Sith Pureblood, practically royalty in the eyes of mongrels like herself. Fynta hadn’t considered other possibilities, nor expected to find Ucevi when she reached her buyer. She’d never been happier to be wrong.

Holding that golden stare, Fynta drained her tumbler of whiskey and smacked her lips. “Just like old times.” 

#whumptober2021 #no.23 #prompt: auction #fandom: swtor #medium: fanfiction #sith fynta au #tish oc: ucevi #misunderstandings are my jam

[izzielizzie]

Any Penderwicks headcanons you could spare?

of course!

Rosalind wants to be a professional baker for practically all of her life until she goes to college and volunteers at a farm with some of her friends and she falls in love

i can just imagine her talking about her career change with such enthusiasm

"plants are great Tommy! they're like kids that don't talk back or demand food! And I can bake with them! and they're so pretty especially flowers! flowers are so pretty! and i like gardening who doesn't? no wonder Dad's a botanist!!!"

honestly she's just so happy

Mr. Penderwick is happy too because he loves plants and now he talk about them without people rolling their eyes at him

although Rosy is very against all the pressed plants in his office

okay i feel like this is generally accepted in the fandom but no Penderwick sibling is straight

Rosy? bi. no one is that obsessed with their best friend Anna

Skye? oh Skye's a lesbian and she has a very dramatic enemies-to-friends-to-lovers thing going on with Melissa and she's also ace

Jane? well no one really knows her orientation not even her but "love is a vibe guys if someone has the vibe then i'm in love"

(cue Skye rolling her eyes in the background)

Batty is also ace and she's also hopelessly in love with Keiko

Ben and Rafael have been in love since the first grade and they can be found in their apartment making movies, speaking Klingon, and adopting dogs

and Lydia and Alice are being bad influences together for all of eternity

Jane spends a year during college studying literature in the UK and she comes back with the fakest British accent ever

she actually keeps up the charade for a like a solid month until Skye laughs at her so hard she just gives up

no one is allowed to talk about it

Batty and Jeffrey put on concerts every vacation

Rosalind tried to teach Lydia how to bake once

and only once

Nick is still, to this day, trying to find Batty her sport

Under Penderwick Family Honor, no one is allowed to tell Nick that Batty joined the tennis team in high school with Keiko

this leads to a lot of hilarity whenever Nick's home

someone always trips up and almost talks about it and Batty just dramatically whips around and glares at them

she and Skye are very good at glaring

Skye is always on the roof of their garage

Iantha and Mr. Penderwick know but she hasn't died yet so they let her be

when Aunt Claire got married Skye almost refused to be in the wedding because of the past flower trauma at her uncle Gordan's wedding

Hoover the dog gets a very special shout out at Claire and Turron's wedding because without him Claire wouldn't have broken her ankle and she and Turron wouldn't have fallen in love

when Keiko and Batty get married they joke about only inviting people's pets and leaving the people at home

Ben and Rafael are so upset that Cameron High School doesn't actually teach Klingon that they start a protest

no one actually goes but that doesn't stop them

they become such a nuisance that the principle - sick of the Penderwicks and their hijinks after the first four and already terrified of the sixth one - just lets them teach themselves the language in the back of the library during study hall

Lydia and Jack become best friends and Alice hates it but also loves it

i actually can't tell if i like Jack/Lydia or Alice/Lydia better

whatever either way that trio is iconic

after Skye moves to California Jeffrey and Jane grow closer

idk why i ship them so much but i really do

maybe it's because Jeffrey wrote music for her

he still does

a lot

the Penderwicks never cease to be chaotic and i miss them

#rosalind penderwick #skye penderwick #jane penderwick #batty penderwick #ben aaronson penderwick #lydia penderwick #iantha aaronson penderick #martin penderwick #tommy geiger #nick geiger #keiko trice #alice pelletier #jack pelletier #rafael (the penderwicks) #melissa patenaude #jeffrey tifton mcgrath #claire penderwick #turron asabere #the penderwicks #anna cardasis

[ikemen-girl]

Yuhuuuu sweetheart~!!💖💖💖 I'm back again and this time I'm gonna request for our beautiful vampire boys! I hope this will gonna be the first IkeVamp HC you write? 😏🤭

Anyway, may I request for a HC which MC having a date/day-off BUT with the trio Arthur-Vincent-Theo? XD It's up to you whether you want to make them (MC and the suitors) in a non-romantic relationship (not a couple) or MC already being a girlfriend for one of them (I'd choose Arthur but feel free to pick between the trio! XD).

Last but not least, keep up the good work and I hope you enjoy writing this one! 💖🌟

Heyaaa Asha-San💗😍✨🙋🏻‍♀️💃🏻😘, first of all, thank you so much for supporting me always❤🙇🏻‍♀️💯✨💗😘🤗😇! Secondly, I loveeeee you for asking this request🥺🥺❤❤😘😘✨✨, as this chaotic trio is my most favourite in Ikevamp🤣🥺✨❤! Also, we share same liking again😏❤💃🏻🎉, as I am going with Arthur coz he is my Ikevamp husbando😍✨😏🤣! Lol, this is going to be awesome🤣🤣💗💗! I wanted to write so much more but it was getting too long🤦🏻‍♀️🤣🤣! Yes, that's my first writing on Ikevamp😏😎😉😂! Thank you once again💗 & without any furthur delay, here we go😏❤~

IKEVAMP HC🧛‍♂️❤:

MC👩🏻 spending her day off with Arthur😏-Vincent🥰-Theo😒💃🏻💗:

A BRIGHT SUNDAY IN THE MANSION😍🌞💗💯 :

As soon as Le Comte stepped out of his room to go outside for an important task🥰, he stumbled over something and barely avoided the fall on the ground gracefully😱. He turned back to look at *something* & it was Leonardo who was as usual sleeping right infront of his door😴. "Leonardo, what is the purpose of the BEDROOM🗣🛌?", Comte rubbed his temples, groaning in annoyance😫 Stressed MOM 24/7😑. "Oh! Hey😏, Comte, good morning🌞! Going out somewhere🥰?", Leonardo smiled at him after waking up from his slumber👀. "Good morning🌞! Yes, thanks to you, I almost fell down😒🤦🏻‍♂️!", said Comte sighing, shaking his head. "Have a great day😁!", Leonardo grinned. "Same to you☺️!", Comte nodded & went for his work. Mozart was as usual cooped up in his room, playing his piano happily🎹💗🥰 boi is at peace, no nuisance as of now😌🤘🏻. Napolean and Jean were doing their usual morning warm-up exercise sparring with each other happily⚔🤺. Vincent was painting happily💛👨🏻‍🎨🖼🎨 in his room while Theo was sleeping on his dear brother's sofa🛌😴 a rare moment as this grumpy boi is mostly busy✍ and he was forced by Vincent to take a break from work and take it easy💛🥰😂. You gifted a sketchbook📒💛 to Vincent on his birthday and he thought it was a very great opportunity to use it💛🥰😇. Cue-Vincent drawing a rough sketch of his grumpy😒, adorable broer Theo😍💛 while he was sleeping😴, he was quite satisfied with the results💯💛🥰😇 and he giggled looking at Theo, admiring his younger broer😆😍💛. Stop killing us with your sweetness, Vincent🗣💛😍! Someone was as usually teasing Issac sitting in the parlour room😏. "Hey Ai-kun, do you want to start your day by eating apples🍎?" "Ugh, go away😫😑🤦🏻‍♂️!", Issac grunted, annoyed🙄😒 at having his beautiful morning destroyed by Dazai as he thought to go on his jumping from windows adventure😎🏃🏻‍♂️😏. Sebastian was busy drying the bedsheets outside in the garden👨🏻‍💼💯.

"Geeeez, stop hugging me, Arthur😒🤦🏻‍♀️, can't you see, I am making pancakes😂?", you said to your boyfriend🥰💛 favourite hero😎 who was being clingy🤗, not that you don't love it but in the kitchen, when you were cooking👩🏻‍🍳, it felt so awkward😅, your gaze was constantly shifting towards your pan as well as the entrance of the kitchen👁👄👁.

"Mmm, luv, I missed youuu sooo much🥰😘🤗💗!", Arthur said with a deep morning voice, nuzzling your neck taking your sweet scent embracing you from behind🤗😍. "It's hardly 10 minutes from the moment I left the room😂!", you giggled flipping the pancake on the pan🥞💗😋.

Your dear lover💗 had been writing another Sherlock🕵🏻‍♂️ fiction staying up most of the last night while you were busy in the cleaning of the huge mansion💯🧹🧼. When he was finished writing about his most hated😒 recognized creation🕵🏻‍♂️💯, he sighed stretching his hands sore from writing by sitting in the same position for a long time🙆🏻‍♂️😌. He turned to look towards the door missing your warmth so much🥺💗, he was feeling very moody due to your absence☹, "Where are you, luv🥺💗?", he murmured sadly and walks towards the door to bring you back already🚶🏻‍♂️ soft boi love you so much❤💯😍🥰🤗😘.

But before he could touch the doorknob🚪, he heard the light steps from outside thanks to his vampiric powers🧛🏻‍♂️, he already knew that the love of his life❤😍💯 was finally coming in the room after a long, tiring day🙆🏻‍♀️. His heart was dancing with happiness🕺🏻💗, he quickly dashed back towards his chair🏃🏻‍♂️ and pretended to be asleep😴💗 putting his head down with the most innocent sleeping face🥰😴.

"Arthur, I am back🙆🏻‍♀️💃🏻~ooopsss😯🤐", you opened the door excitedly after getting nod from Sebastian for off from work finally to find him sleeping on his desk😴. Cue- you melting at the sight of his adorable sleeping face🥰💗😍🥺. You walked towards him and settled the hot coffee☕ on his table and it took all of Arthur's mental strength to not stir😴😅 sensing the sweet aroma of his favourite coffee💗. "I brought your coffee & here you are sleeping already😂🥰💗!", you murmured softly, giggling to yourself. You sat beside him and took his spectacles off for him👓, careful not to wake him up😴💗👀 Girl, he is ACTING🗣🤦🏻‍♀️. You gently caressed his dark blue hair💗🥰 & it took all of his strength to NOT❌ purr at your touch🥰💗. "You are so adorable😍, you know that🥰? I lovee you so much💗!", you said with a very warm smile🥰😇. *bathump💓* *bathump💓* *bathump💓* "Who could have thought that a rotten flirt😏😂💗 like you had such a gentle heart hidden behind it❤😍? Ah🙆🏻‍♀️! Whenever I look at you, you do some crazy things to my poor heart, your loving gaze👀💗, your sweet words😘, your feelings for me💗, I cannot even describe the happiness💙🥰 you give to me and I love you so much that even words cannot encompass it💗🥰. She kissed him softly on his cheek😘💗. Arthur's heart couldn't take it anymore💓💥.

His cheeks went flushed red despite himself😳💗. "Ugh😣, this is so unfair🤦🏻‍♂️😐!", Arthur exclaimed looking at you with an adorable pout on his face☹💗. "GAAH😱! You were pretending to be asleep😳😯😱?", you exclaimed, eyes wide with shock as you straightened up. "And how can you be anymore sweet than you already are when I am not aware of it😫🤦🏻‍♂️🙈?", said Arthur hiding his face in his palms. "Awwww💗, you are like a cute kid right now💗🥰😘😏!", you said teasing him ruffling his hair. "By jove, stop it luv😲😌!", he sighed, the tips of his ears red😳🙈. He hugged you to hid his face in the crook of your neck🤗💗. You giggled and returned his hug😂🤗, kissing his temple gently😘💗. "Now, drink your coffee and go to sleep☕!", Arthur nodded like a happy pup which made your heart beam with happiness🐶💗. "Your coffee drinking habits are so strange😂😂💗💗!", you laughed happily while he sipped his coffee☕. "MC, hug me🥺💗, I missed you so much today😢🤗❣!", Arthur requested you with a very soft tone💗🥺🎶. "Awww, come hereee💗😍!", you called him patting the side of his bed to which he happily obliged like a cute kid💯😍❣. You extended your arms infront of him🤗💗 as he accepted the warm embrace😍🎶🤗💗 and he rested his head on your chest and you caressed his hair💗. BEST FEELING FOR HIM💯❣"I feel so safe here in your arms!", Arthur whispered happily💗😍💯. "Aww I feel so happy 😍✨❣, now sleep, you must be quite tired💗😍😂", you said closing his eyes while gently massaging his back💗. "Mmm, goodnight love😴💗!", he said with a very satisfied smile on his face💗✨🥰💯.

BACK TO PRESENT SCENARIO:

"Now, now, dear, let me go, if someone enters in the kitchen👀😳😱----", you said as you tried to wriggled out his arms😨. "Mmmm, noooooo, luuuuuv, you are so warm💗😘😍🤗!", Arthur said with a happy and gentle smile as he tighten his hold around your waist hehehehe💗. "I am so hungry MC, are the pancakes🥞--", Theo came inside with his hands shoved in the packet excitedly☺️🥰 but froze at the sight that greeted him in the kitchen😐. Theo-😑🤦🏻‍♂️, Arthur-🤨🙄, MC-😱😳. "Oi klootzak, get away from Hondje🗣, this is kitchen, not a place to make love🙄, do that in your bedroom🤦🏻‍♂️😒!", Theo sighed, glaring at Arthur😠. "Hey, Theoooo, you have insufferable timing🤨, though a very good morning🌞😏!", Arthur grinned at his best friend😁💗. "Let go of me right now🙂!", you whispered to Arthur with a threatening tone⚠️ but he pretended not to hear you for the moment👀😏.

"What happened, Theo, why are you standing here in the middle of the kitchen🤔👀?", Vincent came inside with a bright smile on his face🥰😇. Brotherly Shriek "NOOOOO😱! BROER! NOTHING IS HERE🙅🏻‍♂️!", said Theo turning back to cover Vincent's pure eyes🙈 & hissing at Arthur to get away from you🗣😡. "Arthur🙂?", you said smiling at him with all the love in your eyes👀💗. "Yes, luv😏💗?", he smirked leaning closer to you🥰💗😍🤗. You stepped on his foot all the while smiling at him🙂 which finally made him let go of you & you can finally breathe😤😌. "Ouch😫!", he clutched his foot in pain. "Arthur, what happened😳? Theo, why are you covering my eyes🙈?", Vincent asked, extremely confused🤔. Theo grinned at Arthur😁 and gave a proud nod towards you😏👍🏻 and removed his hands covering his dear brother's eyes🥰💗. "Theo is joking with you😂🥰💗, good morning, Vincent💗", you said greeting him with a very warm and happy smile😇💗. "Hehehehe Theo😂, you are such an adorable brother🥰🤗💗, good morning, MC & Arthur😍😇!", Vincent replied with a soft chuckle😆. Cue-Theo blushing happily💗🥰. "Good morning🙂!", Arthur replied with a fake smile. "Hondje🐕, go fetch me pancakes🥞💗!", Theo said with a bossy tone😎.

"Breakfast Time💗!", you smiled happily as you brought the Dutch brothers' favourite pancakes🥞💗 and Arthur's favourite fudge in the dining hall and placed it on the table infront of the brothers🥰😇😋. The brothers' eyes were literally shining with happiness🥰💗. Theo pour the mayple syrup over pancakes🥞 or it's the other way around🤔😏 while Vincent began eating the pancakes💗🥞 without stopping to even breathe. He looked so adorable eating like a squirrel🐿💗 *chomp* *chomp* *chomp*. You were so glad to see the brothers enjoying the breakfast made by you so much💗🥰😋😍.

Arthur was silently groaning in pain sitting on the side chair🤐😓 and you wondered whether you stepped on his foot with more strength than intended😨😳. "Did I hit you too hard😥?", you whispered to Arthur, concern written all over your face. "Hmph😒😠!", Arthur turned away from you, a deep frown with a angry pout on his beautiful facial features as he tried to go outside the dining hall🏃🏻‍♂️. You suddenly felt guilty for hurting him☹. "Arthur, where are you going🤔😳?", Vincent asked looking at him. "I am not hungry, you both continue🙂!", he replied. "Oi klootzak, sit back down and eat before it gets cold😒🙄!", Theo said rolling his eyes. "Theo!", Vincent scolded him lightly🤨.

You went running towards him🏃🏻‍♀️ and embraced him from behind🤗💗 and said in a very soft tone, apologizing to him☹, "I am extremely sorry, Arthur, don't vent your anger by staying hungry, pleaseeee😥😓!". Cue-Theo and Vincent gaping at both of you😳😲, shock written over their faces seeing your open affection for him😳, their forks paused in the air🍴Yes! Completely alike, they are brothers, afterall😏👬. Vincent almost chokes but Theo quickly gave him a glass of water. Hondje, are you trying to kill my broer🗣?! Arthur's anger melt away at your soothing voice & comforting hug🤗💗😌. He turned around in your arms and smiles at you💗☺️, "You are really adorable dove, I can't even stay angry with you💗😌😂", he embraced you gently making you sigh with relief🤗😌, "Thank you🥰😍💗!", you hugged him back happily🤗.

"But, I will forgive you on one condition😏?", Arthur winks at you😉. "Now, what is it😳🤨🤨?", you asked him with raised eyebrows, suspicious of his smirk. "Feed me fudge😁😍!", Arthur grinned at her. Cue-sound of Theo slapping his forehead🤦🏻‍♂️ & Vincent blushing furiously at his words😳. "Are you really sure😅?", you smiled at him awkwardly looking back towards the brothers😅. "Absolutely, sweetheart💗😁😍!", he replied with a playful grin. "Spare me this physical display of affection🙄😑😠!", Theo sighed, glaring at him. "You are not going anywhere, my best friend💗😎🙅🏻‍♂️!", Arthur said wrapping his hand around his broad shoulder😏. "Who is your best friend, klootzak😠?", Theo glared at him. "You are my best friend, I know you even love me so much💗😍😏👬!", Arthur hugged him🤗. "Ugh, gross, get off me😑🙄😒!", Theo said angrily trying to push Arthur off his shoulders😠. Vincent chuckled happily looking at the conversation b/w them😂💗😍. Cue-Theo's heart dancing & overflowing with love for his brother😍💗🕺🏻 obviously platonic😂.

So you feed him the fudge while Arthur wore the most smug look on his face😏💗💯 while Theo crossed his arms around his chest & rolls his eyes🙄 whereas on the other hand, Vincent had a faint blush covering his cheeks🥰💗 while he wore his usual sweet and angelic smile as he watches you both happily😇💗 blessing you both internally🙌🏻. You were obviously flustered under their gazes😳🙈 and Arthur was enjoying the cute look on your face, 100%😏💗👍🏻. Curse you, sherlock writer🙄😒🤣🤣!

As all of them finished eating their breakfast and preparing to leave the dining hall when you came with this amazing idea💗💯😍. "Theo? Vincent?👀💛", you called the brothers. They both turned back at the same time to look at you🤔. Arthur looks at you curiously👀, already knowing by the look in your eyes that you are going to request something from the Dutch brothers💛👀🙏🏻. "So I wanted to tell you both that today is my holiday from work & luckily you both are also free today, so can you both spend this bright day with me😍💛🥰🙏🏻?", you looked at the brothers in anticipation giving the most adorably puppy look you could muster towards them🐶💛. Cue Arthur (offended gasp)- Hey luv, what about me😱?

The brothers turn to look at each other and back at you with happy smiles🥰💗. "Obviously, MC, we would love to spend our day with you😇🥰💯! Isn't it Theo☺️?", Vincent sweetly smiled at you while directing his gaze towards his younger brother👀💛. "Heh😏! If it's an request from our knabbeltje🐶, I have to fulfill her wish or else she will bite us🤣😏!", Theo smirked happily while giving you a head-pat. "I am not a puppy, Theo☹!", you pouted as he gave you head pat like he would give to his dear dog, King🐕. "Knock it off, Theo🙅🏻‍♂️🙍🏻‍♂️!", said Arthur as he removed Theo's hand from your head and wrapped his arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him🤗💗. "Broer, we should get ready for the day🥰!", Theo smiled happily at Vincent. "Yes, Theo! Let's go💗😇!", said Vincent excitedly dragging him outside. "Be a good hondje and meet us in half at hour at the foyer😏🐕💗!", said Theo flashing a smirk at you. You nodded with a happy grin towards him😁💗. You turned to him and he was pouting adorably as you squeezed his cheeks😂😍, "You should know that you are always going to be with me with no questions😏💗😍!", you smiled giddily at him and his pout disappeared and replaces with a soft smile at you as he kissed you gently making you blush😘💗🙈.

Arthur came towards you with a helpless look on his face🥺 when you were getting ready for the day😍💁🏻‍♀️💄. "What happened, Arthur🤔?", you asked him curiously. "Luv, please help me with this collar😩!", he said, groaning. "Why, suddenly👀? You always adjust your collar yourself, don't you😏?", you smirked at him. Arthur looks at you with the pleading gaze🙁 while you giggle happily😂💗🥰😍. Well, wrong move, as soon as you came within his reach😏, he wraps his arms around your waist with a killer smile as you adjusted his collar😍. It was hard not to stare at his jaw, neck and his chest while you were at it👀, he is so stunning💯💗😍, your heart couldn't stop pounding wildly in your chest💓 TOO DISTRACTING. "Luv, you are blushing😏💗😁!", Arthur grinned at you. "Obviously, I will, you are so perfect, damn it💯🙈💗😠!", you pouted at him flashing a fake glare at him to hide your reddening cheeks😕🙈. Arthur.exe.stopped.working🤯. He was taken aback by your sudden genuine and adorable revelation😲 and he chuckled happily while his laughter ring in your ears😂💗, he kissed your forehead and hide you in his arms💗🤗😘, "You can blush as much as you want near me😏!", Arthur said with a very playful tone. "Arthur, I can't breathe😨!", you said, your head spinning😵. Why MC, is it because of tight hug or his features, if you know what I mean *ehem* 😏? Arthur releases you from his embrace but doesn't let go of you as he stare at you with loving eyes😍💗. The pure & a very happy smile on his face✨😍💗🥰 towards melts you into the puddle😍💓.

When you both went to the foyer, the dutch brothers were already waiting for you⏳. "You are late, hondje🐕! Why😒?", asked Theo grumpily. You quickly flashed a glare 😠😒 at your boyfriend who was grinning besides you😎😁. "Thanks to him, we got 10 mins late🤦🏻‍♀️! Sorry🙇🏻‍♀️!", you said with a sweet & apologetic smile😅. "Don't worry MC, we are glad that you both are finally here😍💗! Let's go🕺🏻!", Vincent smiled at you happily and walks outside😍💗. Theo shoved his hands into his pockets as he walks along with his brother as you both followed them, holding hands💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♂️🤝🏻💗. As soon as you both stepped outside, all of you caught the sight of two adorable bundle of happiness💗😍. King and Vic leapt on Theo and you respectively🐕 as you stumble back from the impact😨 and Theo fell down🤣. "King! Get off me, boy! Sit back down🗣!", Theo ordered King but the happy dog couldn't stop showering him with kisses🐕😘💗. Arthur was laughing hard seeing Theo at the mercy of his dear dog🤣. "Stupid mutt! I will get back at you😡!", Theo glared at Arthur. Even Vincent was laughing at his adorable brother😂 who was struggling with his pet😩 and flashed helpless look towards his elder brother🥺. "Broer, I am happy that you are laughing🥰 but pleaseeee help me😢!", Theo groaned😫. "Okay, okay, sorry Theo😂💗!", Vincent laughed as he helped Theo to get up🤝🏻 and patted King's head as the golden retriever wagged his tail happily🐕💗. Vic settled himself in your arms as you stroked his back smiling happily and kissing his head🥰😘. Cue-Arthur being jealous🙍🏻‍♂️.

He stood infront of you and poked his cheeks😏💗. You understood his intentions and you smirked at him😏 as you pushed his face away😂🤣 and ran together with Vic, laughing at his stunned expression😲. "MC, you are not getting away😏!", Arthur said as he followed you. Arthur caught you both in his embrace as you both were laughing while Vic looks at both of you happily with twinkle in his eyes👀✨ from under your arms🤗💗. "Stupid kids😒!", Theo grunted. "Theo🤨", Vincent raised his eyebrow at him. "Sorry🙇🏻‍♂️!", he straightens up. "That's my good boy😍🥰💗!", said Vincent returning to his usual sweet, angelic smile as he patted his head😇. "Bro...Broer...😱😲! Why..why are you patting my head like I am a dog...🐕😳?!", Theo asked, blushing furiously, his mind went blank, as he stared at Vincent, dumbfounded🤐😯. His elder brother only chuckled at his question and adorably flustered expression😂💗😍. Theo wouldn't admit but he loves getting pampered by his elder and dear brother😍💗💯✨. You all played with your favourite four-legged companions🐕💗. Cue-Theo smiling so softly while giving treats to the dogs☺️🤗. "Theo, you are smiling! Can you smile like that for me😏💗?", Arthur smirked as he stood beside him. Theo grabbed him from his collar and raised a fist towards to hit him, "I would gladly punch you👊🏻😠!", said Theo as he glared at his bestfriend. "Schei uit, Theo🤨! Be nice!", Vincent again saved Arthur from the clutches of Theo again💯😇✨ by squeezing his cheeks. "Uwaah...Bro..Broer...😯", Theo said, embarrassed😳. Arthur snickered😂🤭. You couldn't stop laughing at the funny scene infront of you🤣🤣 while they all turn to look towards you and smile happily themselves🥰❤.

You all would definitely go to the art gallery✨😍🖼. Your eyes would literally shine with excitement going through the amazing creations of the artists💗💯✨😍. Cue-Theo smiling proudly😏. Vincent would gladly join you and tell you his perceptions about the meaning behind every painting❤😇😍💯. "Heh😏! She looks so adorable😍❤🥰!", Arthur said happily as he looks at your happiness😍💗✨. "She is an intelligent hondje to recognize the true art🐕💯🖼!", Theo said proudly. "Obviously, she is perfect, afterall she is my luv💯✨😍💗!", Arthur said smirking at him😏. "Now, don't get too cocky, Arthur😒!", Theo sighed at him & let out a happily smile☺️.

As you all went outside, you wore a devilish smirk on your face😈 as you caught the sight of something very useful. This is going to be so much fun💯✨🤣🤣. "Theooo😍❤🥰~!", you said in a very sweet voice🎶. "You are freaking me out😳, Hondje, what's with the sudden change in your attitude🤨🤔?", Theo asked, glaring at you, his tone extremely suspicious👀. You turned to look at him😍 and he let out a horror scream😱, "BROER😱!". Cue-Vincent and Arthur: R.I.P ears🙉. "HONDJE! WHAT THE HELL😱! DON'T BRING THAT THING CLOSE TO ME! KEEP THAT AWAY😱!", Theo shrieked as you stepped closer towards him😈. You held a very beautiful and adorable white cat right infront of his face😏😻. "Promise me you would stop treating me like a dog😏🐕!", you grinned mischievously as you brought the cat more closer towards him😻. "THAT'S NEVER HAPPENING😱! BROER🗣!", Theo nearly burst into tears😢 as he ran away from you as you gave him a long chase🏃🏻‍♂️😻👈🏻🏃🏻‍♀️. Cue-Arthur wheezing hard🤣💯 and Vincent shaking his head, facepalming🤦🏻‍♂️ and letting out a worried smile😅.

"I will never forgive you, Hondje😡!", Theo said glaring at you, extremely infuriated. "I am extremely sorry I took it too far🙇🏻‍♀️, I was merely teasing you🤷🏻‍♀️, pleaseee💗! I will make you load of pancakes🥞 and help you in your work tomorrow😍💯💗🥺!", you pleaded him trying to seek forgiveness of your friend💗. "Theo, she didn't mean it in a bad way🤷🏻‍♂️, please forgive her☺️!", said Vincent trying to convince his brother with a very soft smile💗🤗. Theo sighed hearing his brother's words and nodded "Fine😌!". "Thank you Theo💛☺️!", you smiled extremely relieved. "Honestly Theo, you are such a baby🤣🤣!", Arthur was laughing remembering that comical chase. "Shut up! I will wipe that stupid smile off your face right now😡👊🏻!", Theo said angrily grabbing his collar again. "Theo, calm down🤨!" "Yes, broer🙇🏻‍♂️!".

As you all were walking on the road of Paris, you spotted a small girl crying👧🏻😭. "What happened dear? Why are you crying😥?", you went over to him and get down to match her height as the three men came behind you, their faces showing extreme concern for the little girl🤔😥. "I am lost😭!", the girl wailed as you wrapped her in your embrace🤗💗. "Little girl👧🏻, you are with me, you will found your mommy very soon💯💗😍! Happy😏🕵🏻‍♂️?", Arthur said with a very gentle smile trying to cheer the girl up by wiping her tears🥰🤗. "Yes, this extremely stupid man is good in these cases😏!", Theo commented. You tried to stifle your laughter hearing his words🤭. "Theo, you are a devil👿, was that an compliment or an insult🤨😒?", Arthur asked, frowning at him😩. "Stop, you will make me blush🥰, the choice is yours for the question😎💯😏", Theo replied with a smirk which made the little girl laugh🤣 making everyone relaxed🥰💗. "Now, sweet little girl👧🏻, tell me everything🕵🏻‍♂️!", Arthur asked her about the details. Taking all clues into consideration, he found her mother in no time🕵🏻‍♂️💯😎. The little girl was so happy after finding her mother😍👩‍👧, she threw her arms around him and kissed on his cheek😘🤗💗. "Thank you so much, Mr.Detective🕵🏻‍♂️💯!", the girl said with a cheerful voice😍. You melted at the sight of Arthur's face wearing a very gentle smile and his eyes moist🥺 & shining with happiness✨💗. Theo and Vincent smiled happily standing besides each other seeing the little girl reunite with her mother👩‍👧, they nodded at each other happily😍👬.

You all went to the park to eat the delicious lunch made by Sebastian💗😍🥰. "Delicious😋💗💯✨!", you exclaimed happily while eating the food. Theo, Vincent and Arthur nodded👍🏻, enjoying themselves in the garden filled with various colourful flowers including sunflowers🌻🌹🌸🌷. Arthur lay down on your lap while you comb through his hair using your fingers, smiling gently at him🥰😍💗 while he let out an extremely satisfied sigh with his eyes closed😍💗. On the other hand, Theo was already sleeping on Vincent's lap😴 while he draws happily on his sketchbook with a soft smile on his face🎨🖼👨‍🎨💗😍. Even Arthur fell asleep when you were caressing his hair with utmost love😴💗. "They both looks so adorable, don't they Vincent😍💗🤭?", you asked murmuring happily. "Yes, I love them💗! I feel so blessed😇!", said Vincent happily. "So do I💯😇", you nodded happily. When they both woke up, it was near sunset and curiosity got the better of Theo as he noticed Vincent's sketchbook🤔👀. "Broer, what did you draw today🥰😍💗? Please show me👀!", Theo requested him🙇🏻‍♂️. His eyes went wide as he stared at his brother's art of him sleeping on the sofa during morning and him playing with King😱😲, he exclaimed happily, "MAGNIFICENT💯✨💗! I love you, broer💗!", he couldn't stop himself from crying😭 and hugged Vincent tightly making him stumble back a little🤗💗. "Waaah! Theo! Hehehe! I love you too💗😆🥰🤗😇!", Vincent giggled as he rubbed his back gently as his younger brother cried😭😭. You and Arthur looked at each other👫🏻 and smiled at them happily🥰. "You looked adorable while crying😏!", Arthur said giggling. "I was not crying😒! I will kill you😡!", Theo replied glaring at him. "Aww, but I know you adore me so much to kill me~🎶💗😏!", Arthur laughed happily🤣. You and Vincent giggled happily😂😂💗💗.

You all would go to various shops with Vincent and Theo purchasing all the art materials🖼🎨👨🏻‍🎨💗🥰 while you would have to dragged pouting Arthur☹ away from purchasing too expensive items❌🙅🏻‍♀️. "Arthur, noooo!" "Dove, pleaseee💗🥺" "Noooo🙅🏻‍♀️". Vincent shook his head, smiling gently🥰💛 while Theo grins like a sadist seeing Arthur's misery😏😂👍🏻. Theo: Noo👁👄👁! Finally you settled on a very beautiful floral dress 🥀 as a gift from Arthur for always working hard, taking care of everyone💯😍 and for just simply loving him💗😍😘 👗. He was smiling like he won everything in the world after you accepted his gift😍💗🥰💛😘🤗. Even you gifted him a ink pen, which made him extremely happy💗😍🕺🏻🤗💛💯.

You all went to the cafe to enjoy drinks🍻💗🎉🎊 & chat over random topics😂😏😒🥰 when Theo and Arthur drank too much🥃. "I loveeeee MC so much💗🥰~!! She is so adorableeee~😍😘🤗🎶! Ah, my heart can't stay calm💓! She brings happiness to this old chap's life🥺❣🌞✨!", Arthur said slurring on his words. "I loveeee my brother so much💗😍! He is toooo kind🥰, he is an angel😇, he is such an talented artist👨🏻‍🎨🎨🖼! He is the best!", said Theo, his cheeks flushed. "MC is best💯💗!" "Broer is best💯💗!" "MC🙋🏻‍♀️!" "Broer🙋🏻‍♂️!" "Stop it, you two🤣🤣!", you said laughing trying to hide your embarrassment hearing Arthur's feelings for yourself🥺😍💗🥰🙈. Even Vincent couldn't stop blushing furiously hearing Theo's words of appreciation for him😍😳🙈💗🥰. "You both are so adorable🤣🤣💗💗!", Vincent chuckled at both of them happily. Arthur and Theo hugged you and Vincent🤗💗 respectively while you both were dragging them outside on their feet infront of so many people🤣👥🤣. "Are you okay there, MC😯? Shall I help you with Arthur🤔?", Vincent asked helping Theo to walk with extreme ease strong angel😇💪🏻😎💯. "I am but he is 💯 times more clingy right now as compared to when he is sober though he is so cuteee🥰🤗🤣💗😍!", you said while giggling and poking his cheek😍😘🤣 while his arm was wrapped around your shoulder as he staggered😌 but you held him properly💗💯😍. "Hehehe, MC, I love youuuu~🎶💗😂🥰!", said Arthur happily. "I lovee you too🎶💗~!", you replied him with the same smile as his as you and Vincent carried the boys back to the mansion🥰💗. You and Vincent🥰 said your goodnight to each other🥰💗 as he carried sleeping Theo over his shoulder back towards him room😴.

You helped Arthur to get into the bed while he was still singing praises about you in his dreamlike state, "You are so precious to me, MC💗👸🏻😍", Arthur said with a very happy smile💗💯🎶😍. You smiled giddily as you put the covers over him while he pulled you in the bed😱 and wraps his arms around you gently, your head on his strong chest💗🎶💯, you stayed there❣, in his comforting warmth🥰💗, listening to his heartbeat💓💯🎶😍, when he whispers in a sleepy tone, "Sleep well my dear, luv..zzzz...😍💗😴!", Arthur said with a sleepy and gentle tone as he fell deep asleep😴💗. "Hehehe🤭💗, you too, dear Arthur😍💗😘🥰!", you kissed him on his cheek😘 as you drifted off to sleep as well💗😴.

Tagging: @ashaksara and @sophialovesmitsuhide 💗💯🎶!

You can find my masterlist: Here💗😉📝!

Thank you so much for reading it, I hope you enjoyed it💗😍🤗! Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated💯😍💗😇.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur conan doyle #ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle #arthur×mc #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp vincent #ikemen vampire vincent #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leo #ikevamp issac #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp napolean #ikevamp jean #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikesen series #love #bestfriends #brothers #fluff

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Lost/Found chapter one

chapter two || chapter three || chapter four || chapter five complete fic on ao3

Jaskier thought he understood heartbreak. His family had all but abandoned him when he told them about his bardic ambitions and he's lost more lovers than most people have in their lifetime. He knows that heartbreak hurts, that it lingers, and that eventually, it passes. But what he feels now, standing on the top of this mountain, is so much more than any of that. It's not even really a feeling, but a lack thereof; eventually Geralt's words will hit home and he'll be able to cope with the sting of rejection, but not now. Right now all he feels is a chilling numbness that creeps into his limbs.

He suspects this is what it feels like to lose a spouse. Not that he and Geralt were ever like that.

He wants to fight against Geralt's words, but he sees the anger in his eyes, anger currently directed right at him and he can't move. Even at their lowest point, Geralt never shouted at him like this.

"Right," is all he can think of to say, "uh, right then." Unshed tears burn his eyes, but he won't let Geralt see him cry. Instead, he pulls himself together. "I'll... I'll go get the rest of the story from the others. See you around, Geralt."

He won't go and get the story from the others and he won't see Geralt, not if he can help it. He doesn't care about the story anymore; right now he doesn't care about anything other than getting off this mountain and getting out of the line of fire. After that, he doesn’t know.

He turns in place, thinking too hard about putting one foot in front of the other and he trips, only just catching himself before falling. He doesn't stop to collect himself and he makes his way back to camp in silence. Briefly, Jaskier wonders if he'll run into Yennefer on his way down and dreads how that conversation might go. More than likely, though, she used one of her portals and is long gone by now. He wishes he could do the same.

When he arrives at the camp, it's still thankfully empty, the others not having made it down yet. Jaskier collects the few things he'd left this morning and realizes with a start that most of his belongings are still with Geralt. The only things he has with him are his lute, his notebook and a few unimportant bits and pieces. But it's not as though he can go and ask for them back now, Geralt has made it blatantly obvious that all he is is a nuisance.

It seems his first stop will have to be an inn. If he's lucky maybe someone will take pity on him and let him stay for free because he hasn't been earning much lately. Geralt has been taking care of that.

When he's finished, Jaskier takes a quick look around to see if anyone else has returned and, finding himself alone, turns toward the path down the mountain. He tries to work out what he's going to do with himself when he gets down, but he can't think further than getting somewhere with food and a bed. Or even just somewhere he might stay dry if it rains. He remembers the innkeeper being friendly at The Pensive Dragon and wonders if they might strike up a bargain. He's not feeling particularly cheerful, but he'd be willing to provide entertainment in return for somewhere to stay.

His feet drag, dislodging rocks and bits of debris and Jaskier has to focus to keep from tripping up again. His body feels heavy, like it's only continuing on because he forces it to and it's already given up the fight.

It's not until late evening that he realizes he's going to have to make camp for the night. Thankfully, it looks like a clear night, but there's not much shelter and he doesn't want to run into one of those things again without Geralt around to fight it off. His stomach clenches at the thought of him and Jaskier stops mid-step.

He sits down on the side of the path as his chest heaves and he can't seem to find his breath. Geralt is really gone, he realizes. No more talking around the fire at night, no more amicable silence along the road, nothing. Jaskier needs to learn to live on his own again and without the assistance of wealthy lovers because he has nothing to offer them in return at this point. He feels sick and he lies back against the uneven ground in an attempt to calm the ache in his stomach. It doesn't help.

Far enough down the path to be fully alone, Jaskier lets himself cry. He lets himself feel the anger and the betrayal and the utter despair that seizes his body. For two decades he's had someone at his side who he could consider a friend and now, like before, he's alone in the world. And what makes it worse is that maybe it was one-sided all along. Maybe Geralt never wanted him around, maybe he only put up with him because Jaskier was good for his reputation. At least he did until it didn't matter anymore.

He can't breathe, he can't think and so he lies still in this little patch of dirt, uncaring that he'll be filthy in the morning. And he tries desperately not to think about how hard he tried to love Geralt, how everything he did was to help him. Because he did and he does; he'd be a fool to believe otherwise. When he shuts his eyes, another tear slips down his cheek and he squeezes his eyes harder.

The next time he opens them, it's to the faint light of dawn. It would be a beautiful morning, he knows, but his back aches and his eyes burn and he wonders what might come and eat him if he just laid still for long enough. But he doesn't and eventually, he hauls himself to his feet and brushes the dust off himself as best he can. It takes him a long time, but he makes it down to the foot of the mountain.

When he sees Roach, his heart clenches again and he instinctively shuts his eyes to block out the pain. But he can't not say goodbye. She whinnies at him and he can hear the way she dances excitedly; it's not often she's left alone for so long and she must be happy for the company. He sighs and crosses over to where she's tethered, knowing there's nothing he can do to soothe her loneliness.

"Hey girl," he whispers, approaching cautiously. She bumps him with her head and Jaskier stumbles back a few steps, caught off guard. "I know," he breathes, running a hand up the side of her face. "We wouldn't have left you if we didn't have to."

Jaskier pulls away, leaning instead on the bit of fencing and fiddling with her reins. She bumps his head until he looks up and he realizes she's confused. "Where's Geralt, right?" he asks and the name sticks on his tongue. "He'll be back for you, don't worry. He couldn't get by without you." He doesn't mean it to come out quite as accusatory as it does and he chides himself for it immediately.

"Sorry," he says, "it's not your fault. I wish I had something for you. Make sure Geralt gives you lots of carrots okay? I know he won't give you sugar cubes and I'm sorry about that. Next time I see you I promise I'll have some." He sighs and slips his hand through her mane and she steadies herself like he's about to climb up.

"Not this time. I'll miss you," he says and as he turns away again, he runs his fingers down her neck. He can hear her, even as he walks away, stomping in defiance. "Believe me," he says to himself, "I don't want to go."

When he reaches the inn, Jaskier is exhausted and barely makes it inside before collapsing into a seat by the fire. He sets his things down beside him on the bench. The innkeeper brings him water and bread, telling him he looks half-dead and Jaskier is too thankful to begrudge him that. He asks for a room for the night and the response he gets is underwhelming.

It's not even a response, just a remorseful sound in the back of the man's throat and Jaskier nods, understanding. He'd like to help, but- Jaskier doesn't even need to know what the but is, but the innkeeper seems sincere and he thanks him anyway.

Alone again, Jaskier drinks as much of the water as he can stomach. He leaves the bread for now, wrapping it to save for later. Doubtlessly, he'll want it more then. He doesn't feel much like eating now anyway, so he sits and basks in the heat of the fire while he has it. He'll miss that, too, before long. He stays for a little while longer, but the inn starts to fill up and as people start to drink and get rowdy, Jaskier knows that's his cue to leave. Normally he would be right at home amongst them, happy to share a drink with a stranger, but not tonight. Tonight, he doesn't feel like doing much of anything.

As he slips into the cool evening air, he realizes he has to find somewhere to sleep. Again. At least it's not winter, he thinks bitterly. The air is cooling down from the summer, but it's not cold yet and by the time it does get cold, he will have bought himself better supplies.

He's only taken a few steps when he hears the wild bleating of a goat and the shout of a man. He doesn't think much of it until the goat, head down and ready to butt him, nearly runs right into him. In his confusion, Jaskier stumbles back, following the goat as it runs right past, uncaring. He keeps walking slowly back, wondering what a loose goat is doing so far from any farm. He doesn't recall seeing any on their way in and it's so far north-

He hears the voice again, shouting and much closer than before. Jaskier stops and turns, just in time for the man who owns the voice to come barreling toward him. If the rest of his life goes this way, he may as well have stayed up there on the side of the mountain path.

Strong arms catch him as he stumbles to get out of the way and Jaskier realizes with a start that the man is in full armour. He pauses, his heart thudding heavily in his chest and looks up. The man is talking to him, he realizes, asking if he's alright maybe, but Jaskier doesn't hear him. He takes in the build of him - large, his brain supplies, helpfully - and his reflexes have him squirming in his arms. He's suspicious before he even looks up to the man's face and the jagged scars down the right side of his face confirm Jaskier's theory. This man is a witcher.

His eyes are gold and share the same vertical pupils as Geralt and Jaskier panics, pushing against his chest to get away. The Witcher must think he's afraid because he lets go immediately, but Jaskier doesn't run away. He takes in his full appearance; further away from him, the Witcher’s resemblance to Geralt fails and Jaskier's heart settles a little.

This Witcher has dark hair, shorter than Geralt's and Jaskier thinks absently that shorter hair would serve a Witcher much better. He says nothing and looks at the few feet of ground between them. When he glances up, the man is talking again, maybe wondering why Jaskier isn't running away or cursing him for being a foul mutant or any sort of other reaction a Witcher might expect.

"Sorry," Jaskier mutters, finally finding his voice. He still can't quite meet the other man's eyes, but he looks up at him. The man stops mid-sentence and Jaskier mentally backtracks, realizing the Witcher was in the middle of an apology of his own.

"She's normally better behaved," he says, "well..." he casts a look behind Jaskier and when Jaskier turns, the goat is grazing quietly just next to the inn. "I'm sorry."

"No trouble," Jaskier says because he doesn't want to start a fight with a Witcher. Especially not over a goat.

"Are you alright?"

Jaskier's head lifts instinctively and those amber eyes are focused on him, squinted in worry. "Fine," he says. But it's clear he's not believed.

"Come, let me buy you a drink at least. To make up for nearly running you over. Twice."

Jaskier opens his mouth to argue, but he stops himself. He doesn't want to be alone and even if this man is a perfect stranger and a friend of Geralt's - if his pendant is anything to go by - he'd rather have a drink with him than carry on alone. Jaskier silently agrees and the man lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile.

"I'm Eskel," he says, stepping around Jaskier to tend to the goat.

"Ja- Julian."

#chapters 2-5 to come #jaskier x eskel #eskel x jaskier #geraskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #rex writes #will link future chapters as i post them #lost/found

[changbeanie]

set on you ↠ seo changbin

◦ genre: enemies to lovers!au, brother’s best friend!au, fuckboy!au; angst, fluff

◦ pairings: reader x changbin 

◦ word count: 20.2k

◦ description: you think life hates you because you’re convinced that the universe conspired to help seo changbin exist at the same time as you do.

◦ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, suggestive remarks (!), slow burn

◦ a/n: happy birthday, bin! the world spins for you (or at least mine does)! enjoy this mess of a fic y’all. i have no idea how all those aus come to play... but it will... trust me; this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written fml & you have been warned :)

one.

Summer is packing your belongings in a dilapidated suitcase that has been through many airport terminals, throwing your t-shirts and jeans on top until it’s filled to the brim with too many items of clothing and too little occasions to dress up for. It’s taking that burdensome stack of essays you’ve accumulated throughout the semester and tossing them down the trash chute with the rest of the banana peels and ramen cups. It’s taking a breath of fresh air without the imminent stressors of “midterm prompt will be posted at noon” or “printer is low on toner”.

Summer is the honking of Chan’s car outside of your apartment complex, the incessant vibrating of your phone with caller ID that reads “asshole™”, which leaves you questioning why your brother brought his entire entourage to pick you up from college.

The moment you step out of the building complex, you’re greeted by the familiar sound of Jisung’s voice—penetrating, raucous, grating, and other big words for annoying. But that’s not the point.

The point is:

“Hey, hurry up! Changbin says he can’t fall in love without you!”

Ugh.

That’s because he falls in love with himself, you think as you walk towards Chan’s car with your passé, two-wheeler suitcase rolling behind you.

“I don’t see why you have to bring Dumb and Dumber to pick me up.” You start off brusquely despite not seeing your brother for three whole months, albeit video chats. “And Dumber was legit here a few days ago.”

“It’s great seeing you too! How have I been? Well, I’ve been great, thank you so much for asking,” Chan exclaims, voice doused in sarcasm. “Dumber had to renew his lease, so I took him to sign the papers.”

“You mean he still hasn’t gotten kicked out yet?” You roll your eyes only to see Changbin manspreading across the entire backseat with a smug little grin on his face like he’s been sucking on grapes and nibbling on cheese the entire car ride while anticipating your arrival.

On cue, Changbin rolls down the backseat window and makes sure to look you directly in the eye to say, “What makes me think that I would ever leave you, princess?” he responds as if the question was directed towards him in the first place. It’s directed at him, not towards him—there’s a fucking difference.

“I’m sorry? Did I ask you?” You implore, drawing out each syllable and scrutinizing his entire form with aggravation. You turn your sights to Chan, not even bothering to give him a chance to answer because you’re in no mood to listen to him speak, especially if you’re stuck in the car with him for another two hours plus one hour of midday traffic. That makes three whole hours with Pompous Egotistical Extraordinaire (PEE for short). 

Index finger pointed upwards, you tell Chan, “I still need to go upstairs to grab a few more boxes.”

“More boxes? Man, that’s overkill. What do you even have in that gigantic suitcase of yours?” Jisung chuckles, swirling the lollipop around in his mouth; it makes his lips redder than usual.

“Weapons to murder Seo Changbin.”

Changbin lets out a bark of laughter, followed by a devilish smirk and a discreet raise of his brow with a stupid slit carved onto it. “Hmm… kinky, babe. Didn’t know you were into that BDSM type of shit,” he comments uselessly like the inessential nuisance he is.

“Hey, fu–” 

“C’ mon, princess. Let’s go grab those boxes upstairs,” he interrupts your string of profanity, hopping out of the car in all his atrocious glory and straightens his t-shirt which was never wrinkled to start with. Then, he saunters in your apartment complex like he owns the place. All he needs is a clipboard in his hands and an annoying woman’s voice that screams “Apartment 4419 Bedbug Inspection!” at 8 AM in the morning, and even the bedbugs aren't awake yet.

“Let’s?” you repeat, hissing behind him with your voice several octaves lower and ten folds more deadly. “Since when was this an agreement?”

Changbin’s already in front of the elevator and pressing the button, so you have to follow… because the stairs are all the way on the other side of the complex and you’re not about that healthy life. 

“Like you’re going to be able to carry all five boxes on your own,” he states matter-of-factly, crossing his arms in front of him. You don’t fail to notice the slight tug on the right corner of his lips and the boyish glint gleaming in his chocolate-brown eyes—no wait, dirt-brown eyes.

“I’m perfectly capable,” you seeth through gritted teeth as the elevator dings, doors opening. You stomp your way in and press the button to the second floor, in which the door closes and you’re concealed in a confined space with the fucking bane of your existence, the demon that crawled up from Hell because Lucifer probably banished him for being an eyesore. 

Great, now what?

“This is kind of romantic,” Changbin decides in that awfully sickening, fruity voice of his.

You glance towards him as if he’s mental, as if he’s said something along the lines of “the Earth is flat”. No offense, but Flat Earthers are clearly the type of people who either live under a rock or in their mom’s basement, living off books that date back to the 1500s when Galileo was a fetus with developing brain cells. “How in the world is being in an elevator with you anything along the lines of romantic?” you voice in disbelief.

“You know how many things we can do in ten seconds, princess?” With the pet name rolling off his tongue like second nature, he throws a wolfish wink in your direction, causing your eyes to roll out of their sockets.

“No, but I know how many things we can not do in ten seconds,” you retort innocently, tilting your head.

“Would you like me to enlighten you then?” Changbin suggests with a waggle of his dark brows, inching forward. He’s got this amused grin on his face, the all-to-familiar one he has when he tries to rile you up, and like the sadist he is, he loves seeing mortification written on your face.

The elevator dings like saving grace, and it sounds something like a rehearsed chorus singing “Hallelujah!” in your ears because you no longer have to listen to the words that flow out of Seo Changbin’s mouth anymore. You elect to ignore him, walking over to your apartment and shoving the keys into the door, twisting the knob harshly. “Boxes are next to the couch. Knock yourself out,” you deadpan, meaning it literally.

“Well, aren’t you unapproachable today,” he states when he strolls inside. Fortunately, he starts being helpful for once and begins to stack the boxes on top of one another.

“And yet, here you are.” You send a fake smile his way, the kind you send to the people who have rolling backpacks on the bus when they say “sorry” for running over your toes. 

Just then, your roommate strolls out of the bedroom for what seems like her fourth cup of coffee. Ah yes, a college student’s bloodline. “Sup,” Lisa acknowledges at you and Changbin with the nod of her head. “Going home already?”

You nod, leaning against the side of the counter and checking for important mail. Lease renewal, car advertisements, Internet bill, and oooh pizza coupons. “Damn right. How’s the studying going?” you ask with a little chuckle. 

Lisa hates studying. She’ll have Law & Order playing the background as she’s cramming for her organic chemistry final, claiming that Lewis Structures bore her to the moon and back.

“One more fucking day till I’m at the beach in Hawaii with shirtless boys and free coconut water. Because if I will cry if I have to pay another cent for a liter of packaged, artificial coconut water,” she agonizes like it's the end of the world. “But yeah, studying? It’s going.”

“Yet you still go through coconut water faster than you go through Kim’s slides for OChem,” you laugh, shaking your head with nothing but admiration for her.

“Ew, don’t remind me.”

“Uh, Y/N? I’m gonna load these boxes in the foyer. Can you take the last two?” Changbin interjects, carrying all three boxes stacked neatly in a column, and for once, he’s not doing anything stupid that makes you want to deck him.

Quickly, you run over to the door and hold it open for him. “Um, yeah. I’ll be out in a minute,” you say, blinking out of slight shock. Seo Changbin being tolerable for once?

When Changbin’s out the door and you’re picking up the last two boxes filled with unnecessary business manuals and necessary packs of pastel stationery, Lisa turns around with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in her hands. The look on her face is mischievous and smirky and totally Not Right, gives off an ominous vibe that sends goosebumps crawling up your skin.

“Your boyfriend is pretty cute.”

Yup, there it is.

“Except that he’s not my boyfriend or cute,” you explain blankly, a light grunt leaving your lips when you haul the boxes up with the help of your knee. Maybe you did overpack a little. “He’s all yours, dude.”

“Nah, I don’t fuck with that. He’s not my type... but he is definitely your type. Kinda bad boy, kinda chill-looking, looks like he lifts a fifty at the gym.” She flicks her hair and speculates like a love connoisseur. 

“Has OChem fucked up your brain? You think I would fall for someone like him?” You heave as you drop the boxes onto the dining table before adjusting your arms around the annoyingly rectangular boxes that are too rectangular for your short arms.

Lisa shrugs and sips her coffee. The hot liquid burns her tongue and leaves her fanning it with the Internet bill. She replies with effort, “But–but have you seen him? He gives you those cute lil’ puppy dog eyes.”

“Those are the deceiving eyes of a devil, Lisa. They’re getting in there and brainwashing you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She waves you off, dumping five ice cubes into her coffee and another one in her mouth. “We, you and me and Jisoo, we’re still renewing the lease right?” Lisa mumbles painfully over a mouthful of ice, and you wonder how much caffeine is in her system right now.

“Yes. We’re renewing the lease. I’ll come to sign it by the end of this month or whenever,” you snicker at your friend; she’s always ditzy like this, makes it easy for you to joke around with. “But have fun in Hawaii! Not too much fun though! You know how them boys be.”

With that, you carry the boxes to the door and kick it open with the ball of your foot, but before you leave, Lisa bellows from the kitchen a few feet away, “You know what they say! What happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii!”

You’re pretty sure that the saying is Vegas, but whatever, her brain is fried from OChem anyway.

“Ah, crap–”

“Woah there, princess,” Changbin exclaims when he takes the boxes from your hands before they kiss the floor, freeing your arms with your foot still lodged between the door and the wall. Slowly, your eyes follow his voice to the curve of his profile, his tall nose to the potent pout of his peachy lips, his chiseled jaw to the hair that frames his face nicely. 

You haven’t gotten a good look at him before, no, not when you’re constantly facepalming at his fuckboy antics and plotting to murder him in his sleep. Like this, when he’s attentive and not barking with his mouth, he’s not too bad. It feels strange, intimate almost—you don’t like it at all.

“Hello? Are you going to lock the door or what?”

Changbin’s voice snaps you awake from your daydream, and your eyes widen as you are caught off guard.

“Huh? Oh, right.”

A cocky grin laces his features when he bends forward to whisper in your ear, warmth breath fanning the back of your neck. You feel your heart skip. In anger or something. “What would you do without me?” he brags. 

You scoff loudly. “Do you ever think about something other than yourself, Seo?”

“I think about you, princess.”

“I hate you.”

You grit, the words sounding not as confident as you would have liked, and quickly dismiss the strange flutter settling in your belly and lock the door. You take one of the boxes from his hands and speed-walk away from the devil himself, missing the way his cockiness fades into a soft smile at your departing silhouette.

two.

Jisung is right. 

Five additional boxes on top of your suitcase are overkill because Chan makes the mistake of bringing your mom’s Mini Cooper to pick you up from college. It’s a four-seater, and your two boxes are taking up almost half a seat, which leaves you in a shortage-of-personal-space situation with [insert heathen’s name here].

“Han,” you request with the sweetest smile you could muster. “Do you wanna switch seats? You’ve always been my favorite.”

“Is that why you addressed me as ‘Dumb’?” Jisung turns around from the passenger’s seat, challenging you with the quirk of his brow. What, he holds grudges now?

“Hey! At least you’re not Dumber.” You mumble the last part as you regret your life choices.

Changbin winces with a slight frown. “Ouch. That hurt, princess.” You hear him chuckling to himself as he immerses himself in his phone, probably on Twitter checking if anyone has mentioned him to feed his validation kink and ravenous ego.

“Couldn’t even switch if I wanted to, Y/N. We’re, like, on the freeway. Safety first, you get me?” Jisung chants with half-lidded eyes and expressive hands. 

Safety first, my ass. Who is he even? The same dude who’s notorious for being an ugly drunk inconvenience? The same dude who belly flops into a pool and pounds his chest like Tarzan at ungodly hours of the night? The same dude who cracks eggs using knives? Safety where?

“Damn. What a snake, Han,” you groan, head falling back onto the seat. Despite the morning caffeine from Lisa’s crazy expensive drip coffee maker, you still feel as if anchors were weighing down your eyelids. And it definitely doesn’t help with that fact that your morning in-class essay was titled The Dynamics of Modern Journalism, by means of you. Nothing dynamic about it at all but you have to fake it till you make that 4.0 GPA.

“Y/N.” Chan calls out from the driver’s seat, as he glances through the rearview mirror. “Everything okay in college?”

There’s a song playing on the radio, some Bruno Mars song, and it reminds you of the old days where he would seat you in front of him and strum the strings of your dad’s crusty old guitar. It sounds terrible, if you’re being completely honest, but you didn’t have the heart to tell the ten-year-old version of your older brother that.

“Yeah. I only cry myself to sleep occasionally,” you reply jokingly, thankful for the great older brother Chan is. “Everything’s fine for the most part. Just doing what I have to do to graduate.”

“Why, princess?”

You turn your head to face Changbin, only to realize that your face is awfully close to his, and you recoil back before you start feeling something other than rage and disgust whenever you think of him—not saying that you would ever think of him. “Why what?” you respond sharply.

“Why do you cry yourself to sleep?” He smiles when he meets your sleepy gaze, eyes staring blankly at him with nothing but pure boredom.

“Because you’re in my life,” you comment in return, sighing despondently, hoping to bring an end to the conversation and catch some shut-eye before Jisung starts to sing to himself out of sheer boredom. However, knowing Seo Changbin and knowing his lack of social cues, he’s going to find some way to continue it.

“Oh, don't worry. I would never break your heart, princess,” he says thickly. 

Shutting your eyes, you let your weak attempt at a retort linger at the tip of your tongue because you’re physically and mentally too drained to argue with him. “But I would crush yours. With my bare hands. Like a bug,” you huff in determination.

“When have you ever crushed a bug with your bare hands before?” he says, mouth open mockingly like he’s testing your limits. Changbin knows that bugs are your archnemeses even though you claim that he’s the bane of your existence.

“Yeah? I’ll fucking show you.” You talk big with no actual meaning of doing it.

“Okay. I’ll bring ladybugs tomorrow.”

You shoot up with wide eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare. I will post your middle school tween pictures on Twitter for the whole world to see and caption it ‘here’s your beloved SpearB at a 90s school dance with a girl who gives zero shits about him’ and retweet,” you threaten him.

Changbin scoffs, loudly if you may note. “What, this coming from you? When’s the last time you got laid?” he questions acidly.

You clench your jaw tightly, refusing to answer his good for nothing, inappropriate question, mind you, in front of your own brother and his younger friend.

“Don’t tell me… you never even–” Changbin stops right there, an overly mirthful smile taking over his features. “Sorry,” he chuckles, shrugging apathetically.

With flaming cheeks, you clench your fists and fight the exceptional vexation that is prompting you to elbow his guts as your useless throat ties itself into knots that hinder you from rebutting with a genius comeback of any sort. Oh, you are choking with rage. You want to strangle the life out of him with your bare hands and watch the lights go out in his eyes.

“Sorry?” You clamor, smacking a hand on his irritably firm chest. “You are not fucking sorry!”

“Um, I’m not sorry then?”

You let out a bitter, humorless laugh, because you’re on the brink of delirium. No coherent words can properly form anymore. Whoosh, out the window. “Wow, it reeks of ‘fuckboy’ in here. Open the windows, Chan,” you point out snarkily.

“If it reeks so much, why don’t you get the fuck out?”

“I’d do the fucking honors if we weren’t on the freeway!”

Changbin’s eyebrows knit in exasperation as he throws his hands in the air, accidentally knocking your shoulder. “Oh, so the freeway is at fault now? You think the whole universe revolves around you?”

You gawk at him in nothing but keen apathy and general disdain. “When did I say that? Are you hearing things? Hallucinations? Maybe you should go see a doctor to get that one brain cell of yours checked out. I bet it’s tired of your bullshit.”

“Wow, not only are you egotistical, you’re delusional as well! No wonder why you have a non-existent body count,” Changbin says with his hand in the shape of a fat “zero” shoved in front of your face.

“Guys, that’s enough!” You hear Chan shout, and the both of you immediately snap your heads in his direction, chests heaving with wrath and the urge to push each other’s buttons even further until one breaks. But now, you’re caught in a deadlock, stuck in a metaphoric chokehold.

“Guys, seriously. Let CB drive in peace,” Jisung chimes unhelpfully, removing one of his earbuds for less than two seconds before slipping it back in, head falling back against the seat cushion. Jisung looks like he’s having the time of his life in the front seat, unlike you, who has your arms crossed indignantly in front of your chest and Seo Changbin’s stupid arm brushing against yours. 

It’s not long before the aforementioned midday traffic hits. And you're left thinking that if you lived in an alternative universe where The Purge was legal and where all laws were ignored for one night, just twelve short hours of a night, you’ll have one standing objective, one endgame—and that involves sending Seo Changbin, the incubus, back to Hell where he originally came from.

three.

After the car ride incident, every single fiber of your being has come to a consolidated consensus that Seo Changbin makes your blood boil and nerves tense to the point where it’s considered a health hazard—for him. Because the number of times your brain has proposed opening the car door and pushing him into oncoming traffic is frightening. The very fact that he exists, regardless of proximity, irritates you like the fact that Lisa eats hot dogs without the buns. Like what the fuck are you going to do with an uneven ratio of hot dogs to buns?

However, to your utter dismay, your brother thinks otherwise. Chan wholly believes that you’ve misunderstood Changbin and that he’s actually a person with a charming personality, a songwriter with a heated passion for music, and a crucial member of 3RACHA aka. SoundCloud hip-hop trio.

You, on the contrary, don’t even consider him as a person (not even a half a person) because demons aren’t people, would rather stuff your ears with wax than listen to his voice sing lovingly in your ear, and laugh at the fact that Chan regards him “crucial” in any shape or form. However, it is true that he’s a member of 3RACHA (otherwise by subtraction, it’d be 2RACHA), but he falls short of anything considered “crucial” in comparison to the other things in your life.

This is why when 3RACHA has workdays at your house, in your living room, in your personal sphere, you don’t even think twice before locking yourself in the bedroom. And if you do decide to go out, you best bet that the hallways are empty to ensure the lack of social interaction between you and the personification of the Bubonic Plague.

So right now, at 10 PM, with the living room being dead silent with the exception of crickets chirping in your backyard, you gather your mason jar and empty chip bags and granola wrappers into your arms and make a one way trip to the kitchen.

Immediately, your nose scrunches at the living room that smells so potently of him: familiar, refined, and a little musky, sends tingles down your spine. Elbow hitting the light switch, you nearly drop your things at the sight in front of you.

“God, what the hell are you still doing here?” you comment crassly when Seo Changbin looks up from the dining table, legs crossed with an uncharacteristic softness invading his usual cocky features. He’s in his Adidas sweatpants and the awful black shirt he wears all the time, hair tousled and falling messily over his eyes.

You glance away, finding it hard not to stare at him when he looks Not Entirely Shitty like that. So you proceed to toss your belongings in the trash can as you grit your teeth and accept the fact that it is definitely too late to bail and give him the satisfaction of seeing you hot and bothered.

“I’m sorry? Did you think I would just leave?” Changbin says, almond eyes keen with interest.

“No, of course not,” you verbalize with profound sarcasm. “But if you’re working in the dark, you might as well have the lights on so you don’t go blind.”

“Are you concerned for my well-being, princess?” A taunting smirk inches its way onto the corners of his lips, and you want to sock him in the face for assuming that.

Rolling your eyes, you glower and roughly rinse your mason jar with too much dish soap that it leaves your hands feeling dry. “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“On the contrary, I am the most generous person you’ve met,” he announces proudly, chair creaking when he gets up to stretch his frame. How far does one have to stick one's head up one’s ass to say something as arrogant as that?

“I beg to differ?” you chuckle dryly, turning to face him when you finish rinsing your dishes. You narrow your eyes in profound skepticism like you’re challenging him to a duel. “Generosity where?”

“For instance,” Changbin’s impish eyes flicker over to the vitamin soft gels sitting innocently on the counter, “are you lacking Vitamin D?”

“What?”

“I can fix that for you.”

A loud (but predicted) sigh heaves from your lips before you start to feel an obnoxious blush blooming across your cheeks. A witty retort stays bubbled in your throat and stays there, uselessly, like it’s forgotten how to speak, like it’s forgotten that you hate Seo Changbin to the ends of the galaxy. Your fixed eyes make the mistake on landing on his, and a slither of silence follows as you take the time to trace the flecks of gold in his midnight orbs. Sometimes, you find it hard to breathe because he has you breathless.

The worst part is that Changbin seems to notice the effect he has on you, and boy is he ecstatic. “Considering it, princess?” he gloats, voice silvery as it glides smoothly off his tongue like butter.

“In your dreams,” you mutter, your voice once again betraying your thoughts. You snap out of whatever trance he captivated you in—must be those demonic sermons, yup—and now that your mind’s clear, you want to gouge your eyes out. “Exude your fuckboy antics on someone who cares, yeah?”

“What if I want to try them on you?”

The same softness from before settles into the lines of Changbin’s face, but you’re not falling for that shit again. “Where’s Chan?” you ask, changing the topic before you start to wonder why he’s looking at you like that, almost endearing with an unreadable gleam in his eyes. “You still haven’t answered me what you were doing here.”

“Oh. I’m almost done with some beats, so I thought I’d stay here and work as they pick up food,” he tells you. 

Finally. He speaks to you like a normal person would when having a civil conversation. 

The Communication Process has two parts to it: the sender and the receiver. Between the sender and the receiver, there are several different parts but most importantly 1) the message; and subsequent to the receiver, there’s 2) the decoding process where you comprehend the message. Normally, Changbin fucks up the message and leaves you to decode it while stepping on hot coals. Which leads you to want to rip his head off and feed it to the wolves only to have them regurgitate it in disgust.

“Do you want dinner? We’re having sushi. I heard that salmon is a powerful aphrodisiac,” Changbin continues, once again, lacking social cues and not knowing how and when to shut up.

And there goes the idea of having a remotely civil conversation.

“No, thank you,” you deadpan, deciding to reach into the cupboard for a jar of pasta sauce instead. Or maybe you should just skip dinner altogether because you’ve just lost your appetite.

“You cook?"

Bleary-eyed, you give the blockhead a nonchalant response. “Yes, I cook like every normal person does. Not everyone has maids and butlers tending to them three meals a day, seven days a week, Seo.”

“Shit, I’m impressed. And a little turned on right now,” he divulges in pure mischief and the notion to fluster you again. Only this time, it doesn’t work because you’re conditioned to filter out his fuckboy nonsense.

“Keep it in your pants, will you?” 

“I’ll have you know that–”

You interrupt him with a soft grunt when you strain and press your hand on the lid of the jar. “I’m not interested in whatever you have to say to me about your questionable habits,” you grumble, features pinched and voice taut. You apply force and twist harder on the lid, thinking that the pressure would loosen the grip, and it doesn’t. To your massive dismay, it doesn’t and leaves a nasty red imprint on your hand instead. Annoyed, you turn on your gas stove and try to loosen the lid sealed with, unbeknownst to you, cement.

Before you could run your lid over the open flame, Changbin stops you abruptly and turns off the gas stove, takes the jar from you, and twists it open with a soft “pop”. He stares at you quietly and nods, waiting for you to take the pasta sauce from his hand.

You gawk at him, the little gears in your brain churning and all brain cells collectively wondering “huh?”. Inching forward, your eyes narrow in caution, like he’s about to douse you with a jar of tomato sauce.

“Well?”

“Well…”

“Are you gonna take it?” Changbin quips with a light thrust of the jar.

With a furtive breath, you purse your lips in a thin line and take the jar from his grasp, turning to the stove and heating up the saucepan without hesitation.

“A ‘thank you’ would have been nice.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

Changbin rolls his eyes, clearing his throat. “Do you always eat pasta for dinner?”

You nod, “It’s the fastest thing when I’m exhausted after a full day of classes. Pasta doesn’t require much thinking, really. You just boil the spaghetti and pour the sauce in. Tada, a whole meal plus leftovers.”

“You know what else is a whole meal? Me.”

If it was possible to compile a list to unnecessary comments that have crawled its way out of Seo Changbin’s mouth that you most certainly do not care about, the list would run longer than the number of curse words you spewed in the span of your life. Considering his existence, that’s a whole fucking lot.

“You’re more like a stale piece of bread,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, “like the ones that even pigeons wouldn’t eat.”

He ignores your insult to his ginormous ego (because it probably bounced off) and watches you pour distilled water into the saucepan instead. “Didn’t you like... have all morning to noon classes last semester? Why are you always so cranky and tired?”

“Because I have all morning and noon classes. So when I come back, I cram homework until the sun goes down. Coffee only gets you so far,” you explain the itinerary of your day to the person you’d least expect to listen.

“Wait, Park’s business class is your last one of the day? No wonder why you’re extra unapproachable on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he chuckles, mirth rising all the way up to his dark irises.

“Yeah, and Park can kiss my ass if he doesn’t let me into that business program in New York. I go to his office hours religiously when I give zero shits about him and spend an hour of my day listening to his accomplishments during the stock market crash.” 

“Wow, business majors are fucking kiss-ups.”

Laughter rises in your lungs and bubbles across your chest. “That coming from the business major himself.”

“Damn right,” Changbin acknowledges, “but Park detests me. So I don’t have to worry about getting into the program–because I won’t. Not when I saunter in class late with Minho and talk about the easiest way to cheat seconds before the midterm.”

You stir the elbow pasta around with a pair of chopsticks, making sure that it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan. “Not when you’re openly changing your vape juice in front of his face like the university grounds allow vaping,” you remind him.

“Definitely not when I’m making fun of his ass for drinking coffee sixty years straight like his life depends on it. Maybe that’s why he’s shorter than the podium.”

“Closer to hell?”

“You go, babe.”

The conversation carries on smoothly, settling itself into the chasm of space between you and him like stardust descending into the unknowns of the universe. It pains you to say this... but he’s actually not a bad listener nor is he awkward to be around. You’re here oversharing your trivial qualms about daytime classes and lack of proper sleep, and he’s just standing there, nodding to your every word with, what looks like, a genuine grin playing on his lips. Truth be told, you never thought this day would come.

And here you are, occasionally stirring your pot of pasta and having a proper chat with Changbin that didn’t include insults, suggestive remarks, or any head ripping of the sort.

The world must be spinning upside down on its axis or something.

four.

It’s a Saturday night, which means that you’re in your pair of favorite pair of basketball shorts with deep pockets and a well-loved, frayed up band tee that has been through hundreds of washes. This indicates that it’s Movie Night, and you’re nursing a bowl of potato chips between your legs, hands knuckle deep in calories and grease. Oddly enough, the weekends seem to arrive quicker than ever, but then again, you lose track of time when it’s summer because you’re not living to torture yourself—for once. 

Actually, you take that back.

“Ugh, what are you doing here?” you groan when Changbin strides into the living room to take a seat (despite many other available seats on the spacious couch) beside you.

“I live here,” Changbin announces, scrunching his nose particularly at the way you started the friendly conversation. He hops onto his L-shaped leather couch and reaches over you to grab a throw pillow—way too close for your liking. 

“Unfortunately,” you elect to say, staring blankly ahead at Netflix’s home screen because Jisung is taking his sweet ass time in selecting a goddamn movie. And it definitely doesn’t help with the fact that Chan is too immersed in chowing down the spring rolls than to give a shit about Han Jisung who is currently scrolling through the “romantic” category.

It’s not a Nicholas Sparks type of night. 

Those nights are reserved for when you are holed up in your room with a cup of hot tea by your side and a laptop on your blankets, not with your mortal enemy stuck to your side like a thorn.

Jisung reaches backward and sticks his hand into the sour cream and onion chips. “What do you guys wanna watch?” he mumbles over a mouthful of crumbs like a pest. 

“I want to watch Y/N fall in love with me," Changbin confesses with an unnaturally straight face.

Cheeks on full flare, you take Changbin’s throw pillow and smack it repetitively over his chest. 

“Can. You. Shut. Up. For. A. Day,” you grunt between whacks, and you’re wholly unsurprised that he just bursts out laughing in his hearty, high pitched laugh that makes your heart skip two beats like when you’re rushing upstairs to lecture and skipping two steps at a time to make sure that your paper isn’t marked late.

“Jeez, calm down, princess,” Changbin chuckles and easily wrestles the pillow out of your hands.

“Yeah, calm down. If you guys want to make out, please go to Changbin’s room. Otherwise, I might have to gouge out my eyes and feed them to Hyunjin’s dog,” Jisung gapes with an expression that reads nothing but “ew”.

Chan finally looks up from the plate of spring rolls and catches on. “Wow. This is exactly why Hyunjin hates your ass.”

“He hates me because he ain’t me,” the younger boy boasts, reminiscing back to a petty middle school feud he had with one of his closest friends. “But in all honesty, Y/N and Changbin, the room’s right there. Feel free to excuse yourself anytime during the movie.”

“But keep it PG-13 though. Walls are thin,” Chan adds unconstructively, and you really want to slap a spring roll across his face. Guess who isn’t getting the Brother of the Year Award. 

You refrain the urge to screech, unable to come up with a retaliation strategy and unable to prevent the blood from rushing to your cheeks, so a string of incoherent gurgles of curse words leave your mouth. “I’m going to burn your mixtape, Han,” you say, horrified at the thought of making out with Seo Changbin or anything akin to making out with Seo Changbin.

“Ah, J.One, ever the jokester. Even if we did make out, we wouldn’t tell you about it,” Changbin opens that useless mouth of his and says with a devilish grin on his face. 

“We are not going to make out!” you order, making it very clear that you’re keen on Not Kissing Changbin regardless of the situation. Regardless of his peachy, soft-looking lips. Gross. 

“Can we pick a movie already? We’ve been at this for almost fifteen minutes. I’m running out of food.” Chan holds up a half-eaten plate of shrimp spring rolls and seems genuinely concerned that there is a lack of food to feed the endless abyss he calls his stomach—completely ignoring that fact that he’s in the Seo Residence, where every fridge is stocked with smoked salmon and sliced mango from Whole Foods.

Promptly, Changbin wrenches the remote control from Jisung’s hand and scrolls over to the “horror” category.

God, what the fuck is wrong with him? Please, don’t tell m–

“Let’s watch Insidious. Haven’t watched that in a hot minute,” Changbin suggests as he clicks on the play arrow without anybody’s consent. Literally nobody. And your mouth runs dry, feeling the urge to speak up, yet you don’t want him to have the gratification of you being terrified of horror films and freaky paranormal shit.

It’s not the initial overused storyline of a woman being possessed in a house with clear warning signs of Being Haunted or the chilling tales the neighbors tell to freak new residents out about moving into the house only to have the family move in despite all red flags that scare the crap out of you—it’s the aftermath. The dreaded aftermath of sleeping peacefully only to have the image of a veiled woman lingering in the corner of your closet or the thought of something tugging on your blankets and scratching your windows at night. 

Holy shit, you really do despise Seo Changbin.

Regrettably so, Chan shrugs and dims the lights because he doesn’t give two fucks about what he’s watching. He’s here for the food and the food only.

You don’t know if it’s you or Jisung that heaves an exasperated sigh, but Jisung immediately slouches on the floor beside Chan and sticks awfully close to your legs. You’re afraid that you might accidentally kick the kid when a jump scare pops up on-screen, and you’d feel bad about it because, for a change, you actually agree with Han Jisung.

But what you do know is that your pride and dignity? Non-existent. 

Because in the next thirty minutes, you have your face buried in Changbin’s chest and hands wrapped around his arm like he’s your knight in shining armor—except he’s not. But at this rate, it doesn’t matter what he is because you’re too busy trying to simultaneously block your ears and your eyes, which is virtually impossible, so you just end up having to listen to horrendous contortions and Jisung’s whimpers by the side of your leg.

“Fucking hell.” Jisung hisses as he jumps out of his seat and onto Chan, clutches the older boy for dear life.

“Christ. Even if the movie doesn’t scare me to death. Han will if he keeps yelping at every single jump scare,” you complain silently, face wedged somewhere in the junction of the couch and Changbin.

Changbin diverts his attention to you, who is grasping onto him and glancing away from the screen with all your might, and he raises a curious brow. “Scared? You’re scared of horror movies,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“N-No?” 

“Okay… look at the screen then.”

Squinting, you stubbornly turn your head and try your best not to open your eyes, and just your luck, an eerily demonic scene that you won’t even bother to describe (or stare at any longer) flashes in front of your eyes. Immediately, you flinch and cower against him. “I’m–holy shit–I hate you so much,” you mutter disjointedly. “Please don’t make me watch that.”

“You are so scared.” Changbin smiles softly when you press yourself against him, liking the feeling of you so close to him. Tinges of amusement waltzes in his orbs when you hold onto him.

“And yet you still chose a horror film? Are you stupid, or are you stupid?” you protest lightly, scowling when an unnecessarily loud noise bellows on the screen. 

“Listen,” he looks down at you, “you didn’t say anything, so I just assumed that you were okay with it.”

You roll your eyes at his response. That’s just the type of answer his big-headed, self-interested ass would respond with. “Just because you’re okay with it, doesn’t mean that we’re all okay with it. It amazes me how arrogant you are, Seo.”

“Arrogant?”

“I said what I said.”

“If I’m so arrogant, get off me then.”

In disbelief, you glance up. “I’m not even on you,” you say, offended. As if you would ever willingly touch him.

“Yeah? Hands, princess,” Changbin states and motions towards your hands that happen to be uselessly grabbing onto his arm. He sees your expression morph from anger to shock, and a fond smile etches itself onto his lips. “Thought so.”

Your hands fly off him faster than a bolt of lightning, and it irks you to see him beaming like a thousand suns. “Hand me the pillow,” you demand, facing away from the screen as much as possible.

“For what?” Changbin taunts.

“So I can suffocate myself and make sure I don’t meet you in the next life.”

He frowns, feigns a sad smile. “But I don’t want you to die.”

“You make me want to not breathe, Changbin.”

Changbin simpers at your indignant expression. “Then I’ll give you my lungs so you can breathe,” he says, “in the form of CPR.”

“Just give me the pillow, asshole,” you deadpan, tired of arguing with him.

“No,” Changbin replies proudly and tosses the pillow to the other side of the apartment, flings it like a wet towel, right outside of the dark hallway. “If you want it, I guess you’ll have to go get it.”

You’re downright speechless yet again, your mind preventing you from comprehending what just happened because Seo Changbin had just stooped to a whole new level of “asshole”. You nudge his side in annoyance. “Go get that for me right now,” you snarl.

“Don’t really want to.”

“I will murder you in your sleep. Mark my wo–oh my god, did you fucking see that… I’m going insane,” you whisper loudly as you grab his waist, twisting the fabric of his t-shirt and burying your face in his broad, sturdy chest. 

A soft grin spreads on Changbin’s face at the sight of you, but you hardly notice him because you’re too busy calming yourself down and trying to get whatever demonic image out of your head. 

“At this rate, I think you’re gonna be the one murdered in your sleep,” he bends down and murmurs obnoxiously in your ears, “by the woman in white.”

You shake your head fervently and grip onto him even tighter. 

All you can hear is Jisung cursing with every breath, your racing heart pounding in your ears, and Changbin’s rhythmic breathing that seems to do something in distracting you from your thoughts. It’s peculiar, almost like a reassurance, like he’s always there for you regardless of his pesky presence and irksome remarks. Somehow, he manifests a sense of security that you’re used to, grown accustomed to, and it leaves you feeling skittish and uneasy because you’re not supposed to be feeling anything for him other than overall distaste.

The very embodiment of your qualms rests his hand gently around your waist, and Changbin thinks that if you weren’t as disoriented, weren’t as startled, you’ll hear his heart that is beating thunderously for you.

five.

“He asked me out on a date.”

Jennie raises her eyebrows at you with suspicion, finally peeling her eyes off Google Docs. She’s working on her resume for job applications but not making much progress because she has only managed to write her name and address down. “Who? Changbin?” she gasps excitedly.

“What? No? That’s gross!” you say bitterly. “Like I would agree to go on a date with him.” You feel your heart squeeze at the mention of his name.

“Then who is it?”

“Mark.”

Your best friend fully abandons her resume and gapes, mouth wide open. “The Canadian dude? You talk to him?”

You frown, not liking her expression. As a best friend, your best friend, shouldn’t she be happy for you? You don’t like it when she disapproves of your dates because it’s usually a sure sign that something’s going to go wrong, like she has a sixth sense that can sniff out bad choices. “What’s wrong with Mark? We’ve been casual texting since break began, and he’s in town for the weekend,” you mention.

“There’s nothing wrong with Mark. I just didn’t think you’d go on a date with him… I mean, look at you! You’re not even all that excited. I’ve seen more enthusiasm from Chan eating a salad than you right now,” Jennie says, a valid point to be making.

“I am excited,” you defend, “I–it’s just that I don’t know what to wear and I don’t know what he wants to do.” From your understanding, Mark seems okay with anything you’d want to do, like he’d say yes without hesitation. He’s nice, so nice. Who wouldn’t like a nice guy?

“I don’t know, man. You really had my hopes up. I thought Changbin asked you on a date instead,” she adds, spinning a full circle on your mint-colored computer chair. “I like you better when you’re with him.”

The frown deepens. “I swear, all the job hunting has withered your last brain cell,” you lay down on your bed, “Besides, why the hell would he ask me on a date? He knows that I despise him down to the very last nerve. And the thought of being on a date with him and holding hands and laughing at his stupid jokes about Vitamin D… I hate it.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Jennie notes nonchalantly as she pops a grape into her mouth.

“Why are you defending him?” you ask her, distressed.

Jennie scoots closer to you. “Have you ever considered the idea that you might, emphasis on might, enjoy the attention you get from him?”

“What are you even say–”

“–no, you listen to me. I’ve never heard you talk so much about a guy, even if it’s mainly voicing out your frustration,” Jennie pinpoints, tapping a pen on her chin. “Considering that you text me every day, I don’t think you’ve gone one day without mentioning his name.”

You narrow your eyes and clench your jaw until your molars are pressed tightly against each other, in utter disbelief that she would say something like that—and not be wrong. “That proves nothing. I’m just ranting about him being the embodiment of douchebag and bastard all at once. It takes serious skill to do that, honestly,” you grumble.

“See! You’re talking about him again!” Jennie beams and kneels on the bed, gripping your shoulders tightly, and you’re forced to look her in the eye. “It takes some serious skill to ignore your feelings for him too.” 

“My feelings for him? Excuse me, Jennie Kim. Who the fuck do you think you are?” you glower, glaring at the girl in front of you.

She moves her hands to your head and shakes it, squishes it between her palms like she’s taking out all her pent up stress from dealing with you. “I’m your fucking platonic soulmate. Show me some respect. If you want to go on a date with Mark, do it. But don’t you dare come crying to me about how tragically bad it goes.”

“Can you stop making it sound like Mark’s a terrible person? Because he’s not. He’s the epitome of a nice boy. The type your parents would love,” you muse with determination.

“Yeah, but when have I ever listened to my parents about the people I date?” she challenges. “From the looks of it, Mark’s too good of a person for you, Y/N. You need someone to keep you grounded. Someone who isn’t afraid to give you a piece of his mind.”

“Time to be single for life then.”

Jennie scoffs with a peeved roll of her eyes. “Not if Seo Changbin’s still single,” she verifies in a playful tone.

“Ugh, I’d rather be single.”

“Hey, if you’re already like this when you hate each other, I can’t imagine what it’d be like if you liked each other,” Jennie supplies unhelpfully, and she turns back to her resume, mentally crying to herself as she stares at the blank page.

You sigh. This isn’t how you pictured this conversation with Jennie to be going. You thought she would be more supportive of your date but now it seems otherwise.

The thought of liking Changbin makes you shudder and bite the inside of your cheeks, hard. If you had to use a magnifying glass and search hard enough and look past his fuckboy antics and irksome retorts, he would be a decent person, per se. 

Firstly, Changbin’s not painstakingly awkward like those university boys who pull out every single strand of hair on their heads before asking “d-do you want to get coffee?”. Sadly, no, you have roommates for a reason—to leech off their expensive drip coffee makers. Lucky for you, being the rich ass Seo Changbin shamelessly embodies, he’d buy you Starbucks if he’s in a good mood (which is always because his ego lives on Mars). And you’re definitely not awkward with him, not when you’re constantly wanting to bite his head off.

Secondly, either you’re tripping or the fact that he’s not terribly bad to look at makes it a bonus? Sometimes, you catch yourself thinking an awful lot about his chiseled jaw and toned arms, how his eyes sparkle when he throws some inappropriate remark in your direction—which you have to proceed to smack yourself afterward, because how dare you fraternize with the enemy. Even then, through clenched teeth and the flare of your full cheeks, you can’t deny that he’s quite a looker if he keeps his mouth shut.

Wow. This is not good.

six.

There’s caffeine in your system. 

You made sure of it. 

Like all dates, you were sort of expecting this one to be a late-night type of thing, but now that you’re sitting at a local diner and playing with the fries on your plate at 8 PM, you’re not sure how much longer you can stay awake. And you’ve just had two shots of espresso beforehand to keep your mind off the conversation you had with Jennie earlier on.

“What are your plans for summer?” you ask politely. God, he is so much easier to talk to through text. 

“A lot of traveling, mostly. You’ll be staying here?” Mark prods as he twirls his pasta around his fork. 

It’s such a quiet dinner, and if it weren’t for the kid whining distinctively about wanting soda in the background and his mom saying no, you think Mark could hear you sighing underneath your breath. “Most likely. I think my brother and I are both too homesick to go anywhere,” you mention, watching him pick out all the shrimp from his plate. “You don’t like shrimp?”

“Well, seafood. I don’t really like seafood. Gives a fishy aftertaste in my mouth.”

“Wow. I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” you tease, laughing a little at his facial expression. Who would have thought, Mark Lee having a vendetta with shellfish? It’s pretty damn comical to think about.

“Hey, that’s discriminating. But Y/N, you’re friends with Changbin, no?” he tells you. 

You nearly cough up your iced water. Sputtering, you respond, “Friends? No. Acquaintances? Barely. Why are you asking?” Everyone seems to be on your ass about Changbin lately. What are you? His Google Calendar?

Mark shrugs and looks outside the window, a small chuckle leaving his lips. “I didn’t think you’d go on this date with me because you’re always hanging around him. And you know, him and I are very much different.”

“He’s a douche, Mark. You’re nothing of the sort. If he’s the devil, then you're an angel,” you assure him.

The boy in front offers you some of his alfredo pasta, but you don’t have the heart to tell him how much you despise the flavor of white sauce. Instead, you smile amicably and take large gulps of your water.

“I don’t know. Why do I have the feeling that you like playing with fire?” Mark remarks when he sees you trying to scrape most of the sauce off the linguine pasta before deciding that its edible. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say with a smile, but you don’t sound very convincing. Anyway, you divert the topic and bring up a new one, as you’ve been doing all night. “Do you want to watch a movie later? There’s a bunch of cool stuff in the theaters right now.”

“Fast and Furious?” 

And you say yes. Even though you’re more of a Marvel gal. 

At the end of the day, Mark’s fine. That’s all he really is—just fine, nothing more to it than a four-letter word. He doesn’t know your preferences, your likes and dislikes, or your habits, which is fine, because you don’t have many opportunities to interact with him anyway. With Mark, it’s quiet and respectful, and you almost miss bickering with a certain someone for no apparent reason.

You’re staring quietly at ending credits when the movie ends, your hands wrapped around a full bucket of popcorn (because you don’t really eat popcorn unless it’s sweet), and you’re chewing quietly on the licorice that Mark had offered you. The movie was fine. The licorice is fine. 

However, nothing about today screams “I’m on a date!”.

“Today was nice,” Mark tells you as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Thanks for spending time with me.”

“Yeah,” you smile cheekily. The feeling is mutual. “If you’re ever in town again, feel free to hit me up. We should get shrimp cocktails next time.”

Mark rolls his eyes, and a smile slowly creeps its way to his face. “This date was a failure then, am I right?”

“No, not a failure. Even if I don’t see you as anything more than a friend, I still like your company,” you say with a grin. “I’d still go on many non-dates with you if you want. But next time, honestly… I’d pick a different movie.”

“Whatever, Y/N. You should have said something about it earlier. I thought you were going to fall asleep or something.”

“And risk my face falling into a bag of greasy popcorn? Not a million years.”

Before Mark could even respond, his phone vibrates in his pocket, and you see the frantic expression on his face when he reads the text message. “Oh fuck. Johnny’s at a party, and he’s throwing up on the sidewalk so the Uber driver kicked him out,” he sighs loudly, running a hand through his brown locks. “Should I go get him?”

“It’s 11 PM and he’s already fucked up? Go get him! Are you going to let him just lay there?”

“I mean… Jaehyun’s there…”

“Does it look like Jae is sober enough to drive?” you deadpan, watching the boy in front shake his head in dismay.

Mark frowns, furrowed brows and all. “But what about you? The party is all the way on the other side of town. I was supposed to give you a ride home at least,” he quavers.

“I can manage getting home on my own. Plus, Chan’s home, if anything,” you reassure him with a firm hand on his arm. “You really need new friends.”

“I really do–you’re sure, right?” He asks again. Probably because he feels like a total ass for rain checking his non-date like that.

“Positive.”

With that, Mark hesitantly runs towards the parking lot, but not before a brief hug and an apologetic wave of his hand. The second he releases, you let out an exhale you feel as though you’ve been holding in since the date, or non-date. It feels great to finally be free without the constant pressure of “being on a date” burdening your chest. Jennie is so spot-on when it comes to shit like this. But don’t tell her that.

However, one good thing came out of this date: you can spike Mark’s drinks with seafood if he ends up pissing you off. Which is unlikely. Because he’s not Seo Changbin.

Because there’s no one quite like him.

Oh my God. Surely, something is messing with your head. Must be the stuffy, popcorn-y air in the movie theater—you need to get out of there.

(11:06 PM)

you: hey, wya

you: can you pick me up at the movies?

(11:07 PM)

channie bun: I told you I wasn’t gonna be home

channie bun: I’m out of town for today and tomorrow

you: what, why???

channie bun: internship… do you never listen?

(11:08 PM)

you: shit I forgot

you: okay nvm, I’ll call a ride or something

(11:09 PM)

channie bun: wait

channie bun: I texted bin

channie bun: he says he’s coming rn

(11:10 PM)

you: UM WHY WOULD YOU TEXT HIM???

you: HELLO

you: CHAN

(11:12 PM)

you: I KNOW YOU SEE MY MESSAGES YOU PIECE OF SHIT

(11:14 PM)

you: CHAN !!!

(11:15 PM)

you: at least have han pick me up…

(11:16 PM)

you: you’re adopted, mom told me :/

The phone in your hand finally vibrates, and you check the notifications nervously. 

Of course, out of all the people in the world, Seo Changbin texts you. So much for making an effort not to interact with him.

(11:18 PM)

asshole™: your chariot awaits, princess ;)

seven.

The night finds you soaking beneath the neon lights outside the renovated theater with a slight pout on your lips as you kick aimlessly at the cement. There’s a stagnant stench of cigarette hides by the trash can, beer bottle shards on the asphalt, and graffiti cans littered in the sidewalk—fuck you, pollution. 

But what can you expect? It’s downtown. Where hundreds of conversations are told in loud voices. Where the crowd is young and survives off strictly coffee and beer. Where dreams come true.

Maybe one day you’ll be in one of those ubiquitous skyscrapers that seem to form perfect grids against the smog-filled sky. The ones that stand taller than everyone else. The ones that flicker at night and become a faraway silhouette.

One day. But not now. Because a car honks into the night, slapping you back to reality. 

You lift your head to see a familiar matte black Tesla parked obnoxiously in front of you, and the impatient owner honks again.

“I heard you the first time,” you grumble underneath your breath as you push down on the stupid handle of his stupidly nice car.

Changbin absentmindedly turns towards you and wiggles his brows, hands running along the brim of his steering wheel out of habit. “So… long time no see, princess.”

“Wish it were longer.” 

You slip on your seatbelt and softly run your fingers on the leather seats of his car. No matter how hard to try to push him out of your mind, he always seems to appear somehow, like a ghost. And it definitely doesn’t help with the fact that you’re surrounded by the smell of him, his signature scent, musky cinnamon flakes and citrus peels.

“Woah, popcorn? You hate popcorn. Better not spill butter on my seats.”

“I didn’t buy it,” you mumble, a little surprised that he remembers your resentment towards flavorless corn kernels. 

“I take that you’re on a date?” He guesses, eyeing your outfit of the night, and his lips form a thin line when you nod slowly. “Wow. Which poor soul did you pay to go on a date with you?”

You scoff, eyes narrowed in aggravation. He really knows how to fucking make your night even better. “For your information, Mark was the one who asked me on a date. And I had a great time, thank you so much for asking,” you lie. You had an alright time until Johnny stole your date away from you—which you’re totally holding him accountable for.

“So what? You’re dating him now?” Changbin asks flatly, slamming his foot on the gas pedal. He knows Mark as the kid from your other class. At 3 PM. The same guy he always sees you walking to the bus stop with. So unnecessary. 

“Why does it matter to you? Last time I checked, it’s none of your business,” you riposte, clutching onto the seat belt when the car jerks forward. 

“It doesn’t matter to me, Y/N. You can date whoever you want.” He grips his steering wheel tightly and completely gives you the cold shoulder. 

The car feels significantly cooler now.

Wait. 

You’ve known Seo Changbin long enough to see right through his thick skin, his tough facade, his tendency to use the “princess” pet name on you whenever he finds the opportunity to—and he’s just missed one. His eyes, which are usually full of mischief, are now narrowed angrily and throwing mental daggers at the road ahead. You haven’t seen him like this since he got in a fight with Jisung and nearly threw hands at him before Chan had to manually pull them apart.

But now… is he perhaps... throwing a tantrum?

“Are you jealous, Seo Changbin?” you giggle.

“Of what? Of you? Of him? Why would I even give two fucks about you and that nerd?” He seethes in conviction, refraining from completely pulling over at the curb and kissing you so you’d shut up about Mark.

“Gee, I don’t know. You seem pretty pressed about it,” you mention, even popping a kernel into your mouth. Seeing Changbin like this, it’s refreshing. “Why? Are you afraid that you’d have to find someone else to bother? Is that too much work for a privileged brat like you to handle?” 

“So what, we’re playing 20 Questions now?”

There’s a sharp undercurrent to his usual calm voice, making you turn your head slightly to look at him. The smile only grows on your face. “Only if you answer my question,” you say, lips curling into a smirk. Is this what victory tastes like?

Hearing your response is enough for him to completely swerve the car and pull over to the curb. 

Changbin stops and turns to look straight into your eyes, your shoulders burdening with the intensity of his piercing gaze; your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden. An astounding silence descends, and the only noise you hear for a while is the cars blaring in the metropolitan city.

After mustering up some courage, waiting for the blush on your cheeks to subside, you meet eyes with him and reciprocate. But as soon as you mustered up said courage, you divert your gaze to the bag of popcorn sitting beside your legs and decide that his gaze is too strong. You don’t remember Changbin ever looking like this, so serious and earnest, like he’s thinking hard about something.

“Hey,” you clear your throat to ease the tense atmosphere, “Answer my question, Seo.”

“Which one?” he asks, his intense gaze never leaving your face. 

Again, you ask, “Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?” Changbin questions back, raising a challenge.

“You didn’t answer my question, you jerk. Quit avoiding it–”

“–are you dating him?”

You frown. Changbin clearly doesn’t know how 20 Questions work. You don’t know how much longer you can keep it up because you feel the persistent heat simmering beneath your skin and tinting your cheeks an annoying shade of coral. The thousands of pink blush variations at Sephora? Yeah, that’s how your face looks like. 

“Answer my question first,” you demand, narrowing your eyes.

“Okay,” Changbin states, raising a dark brow, “I’m jealous. Your turn.”

“H-Huh?” 

The stutter slips from your lips accidentally, and he inches forward with a devious gleam in his eyes, cornering you as your back hits the side of the car. You hate how weak you feel in this position.

“Answer my question, princess,” Changbin says, leaning further, lips dangerously close to yours.

“No, we’re not dating,” you huff, reciprocating his actions. If he’s trying to out-intimidate you, it’s not fucking working. At all.

“Good to hear.” He smiles internally—Mark was too good for you anyway.

You look at him through your lashes, testing the very limits of his restraint as your hands press up against his torso. 

“Why are you jealous?” you prod.

Changbin feels your heartbeat beneath your palms, in sync with his, and momentarily, he lets his gaze fall to your lips then back to your eyes again. This nuance sparks your curiosity, and all you ever wonder is how his lips would feel on yours. 

“Because,” he whispers sternly, tensing up at your close proximity, breaths mingling.

“Because isn’t an answer, Changbin.”

“It is if I say it is.” 

Changbin is clenching his jaw, and you have to force yourself to blatantly ignore his firm biceps peeking out of the sleeves of his black t-shirt. The same one he wears all the time.

“Sometimes, I wonder how your head contains that gigantic ego of yours,” you hiss, anything to show him that you’re not wavering beneath his broad frame. The scent of him is so potent now that he’s this close to you. You hate his terribly sweet cologne.

“Glad you wonder about me,” Changbin hums, breath fanning across your cheeks when he speaks. His gaze travels southward as he hovers his lips frighteningly above yours. Your heart beats erratically, feels dizzy like you’ve downed a bottle of vodka, and you emit a soft sigh that prompts him to ask, “Do I make you uncomfortable, Y/N?”

"No."

Changbin’s eyebrows quirk upwards, leans even closer, and you’re not sure if you want to sneeze in his face or kiss his peachy lips. "What about now?" he asks, hands firmly planted on either side of your seat. 

“If you’re going to kiss me, you might as well fucking do it because–"

Before you can properly spite him and give him a piece of your mind, he does the exact thing he’s been wanting to do all night.

Goosebumps rise on your skin when his lips smash against yours. Something akin to fireworks explodes inside you, bursts breathtakingly into the night and leaves a brilliant trail of dust behind. It’s otherworldly.

The subtle brush of his skin burns like fire, tears you apart from the seams. He’s patient, takes his time and kisses you like he’s always had the intention of doing so, like this isn’t a spur of the moment decision. It seems like he has no wish for the kiss to end, like he’s drunk on the taste of you and yearns for more to come.

And if you’re not mistaking it for anger or something, the heart ricocheting in your ribcage feels the same for him.

He’s all you want to know. Like all your thoughts have been obliterated the second he crashed his lips into yours and latched onto you. It’s his slightly chapped lips, his minty breath that tangles with yours, his tongue that presses on the seam of your lips. There’s something that you can’t quite put a finger on, and not-knowing is absolutely terrifying.

Changbin’s mouth repeatedly brushes against yours, but it’s his hand coming up to rest on your cheek that completely makes you melt in his touch. A bolt of electricity runs down your spine when you part your lips to meet him in the middle. You don’t usually say this the first time you kiss someone, but it’s everything you wanted and more. 

It’s all suppressed feelings and catharsis, and as surreal as it seems, you don’t want to let go. Not when he’s holding you so fondly in his arms, his hair tickling the side of your cheeks, and your hands resting gently on his shoulders. You want to savor the moment for as long as you can before it disintegrates with time.

Even for moments after he parts, you think Changbin has never looked more beautiful than now when he’s gazing at you with stars twinkling in his obsidian irises, and maybe if you look hard enough, you can see whole galaxies splayed out in front of you. 

It’s transcendental. 

You’re so completely moon-struck by Seo Changbin that it makes you want to believe that somewhere beneath the hazy stars and obscurity of the moonlight, he feels just the same way for you because he’s not fucking around this time.

eight.

“You look like you have a broom stuck up your ass.” You glance up to see your brother walk in with a duffel bag and a carton of protein shakes in his hands. You don’t know why your parents trust him with the Costco card.

You frown, particularly at how Chan started the conversation. “You look like you’re adopted,” you retort pointedly and lay back down on the couch.

“Someone’s extra bitchy today. Why? Are you okay?”

“Me replying yes or no literally won’t make a difference.”

Chan scoffs, though slightly concerned. “What do you mean?” he asks, dropping his bags and sitting on the floor beside you like the okay brother he is.

You furrow your brows and respond, “I don’t know. I’m just confused, and I don’t know what to do. I really don’t know.”

On the contrary, Chan believes that he’s the best fucking brother in the universe because he knows exactly what’s up. A devious smile stretches across his features. “It’s Changbin, isn’t it?”

His name catches you off guard, and you’re brought back to the memory of the catastrophic (debatable) kiss from the night before. “What? I wasn’t even thinking about–”

“–kissing SpearB and making out in the backseat of his car. If you like him, then you like him. No need to be scared.”

“I am not scared!”

Chan raises his eyebrows. “You look terrified,” he deadpans.

“I do not! This is my normal face,” you raise your voice sharply, pinching your nose bridge to mask your indeed frightened face.

“But it’s about Changbin, isn’t it?”

“No. You can’t just assume that all my qualms are about him. He makes me angry and full of wrath and annoyed to the point where I want to ugh, not think about him. And apparently, you’re clearly not understanding the not thinking about him part,” you blurt in disbelief, sitting up abruptly.

All Chan hears is “not”, and when there are that many negations in a sentence, everything just cancels out. “My understanding has nothing to do with a part of whatever you two have going on. But if I’m not reading this wrong, I’d say that you have feelings for him,” he deduces with a smug smirk.

“You're delusional," you voice out of pure stress. “My feelings for him are of general distaste and overall animosity.” 

Maybe if you recite it enough, you’d actually start to believe it.

“Like anyone’s going to believe that,” he says. Chan admires your stubbornness, but he’s not buying it because he can look you in the eye and pinpoint exactly when and what you’re lying about. It’s the perks of being an amazing brother, if he says so himself.

“I don’t like him, Chan,” you blurt in nothing but pure frustration.

“But what if he likes you?” he mentions softly, and that thought alone sends shivers down your spine, messes up your entire existence.

You’re appalled that Chan would say such a thing to perplex your apparent confusion even more. 

“Why the fuck would you even say that,” you hiss, “Don’t be gross. How can he, the spitting epitome of a pompous fuckboy who has everything in the world at his feet, like someone like me? Doesn’t he have better things to do? Like counting dollar bills or polishing his trophies for being Asshole of the Century? I think your internship has killed your brain.”

“Um, Y/N. You might want to…”

“What, huh? Consider liking him? I don’t think I can burden myself with someone like him. If it weren’t for him being a part of 3RACHA and your best friend, I really don’t know how I tolerate him. The fact that he just openly intrudes into a conversation and thinks that he’s on a fucking pedestal makes me disgusted–”

Chan grabs your arm and forces you to look at him. “Y/N! Can you stop talking for a secon–”

“Let me finish, Chan. If Seo Changbin even thinks about liking me, I’ll have to break his heart. I’m gonna break it be–”

“Changbin…”

“What?” you erupt, annoyed and impatient at Chan for continuously interrupting your train of thought.

“My fucking god,” Chan mutters breathlessly and gets up from his seat, cutting you off, and you finally shut up to notice the grimace that has been on your brother’s face this entire time. 

Your eyes widen in panic.

You realize and spin around immediately, but nothing is as immediate as the drop in your chest when you see the blank, taciturn expression on Changbin’s face. The sight of him like this hurts you so much that you think that you’d rather step on a bed of needles.

Changbin scoffs, only this time, the sound chills you to the bones. 

“Chin up, princess. Or the crown slips.”

Without hesitation, he scowls and turns his heels, walking away from you quickly.

You know that episode of Once Upon a Time? Where the Evil Queen from Snow White seizes a heart from a box and crushes it with her bare hands until it all falls down and crumbles into dust particles? Imagine that but a hundred times worse—you’re disheartened, utterly destroyed, knowing that your words are the cause of his misery.

You’ve hurt the person you care about the most. 

Coincidentally enough, you’re the one on the fucking pedestal whose pride doesn’t know when to come down, so you end up hurting the boy with the purest heart.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.” Chan presses his eyes shut and lets out an exasperated sigh, one that screams “you seriously fucked up this time”. He chases after his friend hurriedly, calling his name and begging him to come back.

You want to run after him, too, but your limbs feel like they’re nailed to the floor. Your chest constricts, your breathing is uneven, and you swallow hard, combatting the tears welling up in your eyes. The excruciating words that left your lips, you don’t mean them. Not a single one. 

Only the stars know how much you regret hurting him, but that night, you’re met with a sky without stars.

nine.

The next few mornings, Changbin is like a ghost. Not because he’s constantly appearing in every second and minute of your life, but because he isn’t. 

He’s not sitting on your sunken-in living room couch with his legs crossed and working on a new track despite the fact that you only have one shitty air conditioner in the entire household that barely works. You’d never say it, but in those moments, those mornings where you roll out of bed and see him bickering with Jisung about something as stupid as which burger has fewer calories, your feelings for Changbin has changed. 

You have no idea how it happened. 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that when he’s over, he always orders an extra orange creme smoothie for you and leaves it in the fridge. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’s always managed to make you smile regardless of how pissed (at him) you were. But maybe it had to do with the fact that you’ve never actually hated him despite your words hinting otherwise.

You don’t hate it when you exchange pesky ripostes or when he’s nowhere near appropriate or when he’s bragging about whatever he did at a stupid party over the weekend. None of that really matters because he’s smiling and laughing that distinctive laugh of his that lights up the entire celestial sphere.

You’ve done an awful amount of thinking the past night because slumber is out of the question, and every time you close your eyes, you end up reliving the horror on Changbin’s face when he hears you unabashedly criticizing him. Your heart taps erratically, your shoulders tense up, your palms grow clammy. It’s seriously a pity how it takes a major fuck-up like that for you to come to the conclusion that yes, you’re scared—truly, unspeakably, undeniably terrified—about liking Seo Changbin.

It’s scary to fall for him because it’s such a passive and spontaneous experience. Like you’re just standing there and minding your own business and doing nothing, but he comes over and sweeps you off your feet nonetheless (maybe that’s where the expression comes from). You have no control over it, and you think that’s the part that rubs you the wrong way, drives you haywire. 

Despite your resilience towards him, Changbin’s the only one who sits beside you, listens to you ramble, looks after you when you’re not even looking after yourself.

The last time you wholly embraced your feelings for him, you were in the ER (yeah, dramatically enough) and sitting on one of the benches outside the surgery room because Jennie had fucked up her knee when skateboarding down a slope and tumbled herself into one of those small vehicles that drive around campus. It doesn’t sound all that dangerous, but physics has taught you that if two objects are accelerating towards each other with a speed greater than zero, down an incline, the impact is going to hurt. So, the last time, you remember the nurses calling up Jennie’s emergency contacts (one being you) and saying that she’s gotten into a “car accident” with no further specifications other than the fact that she’s hurt and in surgery. 

You remember dialing Changbin’s number and sobbing uncontrollably to him, all incoherent words and overall nasty crying, and it startled him so much that he ended up driving to your apartment in less than five minutes. You also remember him grabbing your hand and taking you to Jennie’s hospital, the same one in her university two whole hours away from yours. The last time, most importantly, you remember you were with him the entire way. In your pajamas. Past midnight. With his hand rubbing circles on your back.

With him, everything just seems to fall into place. No matter how chaotic the situation seems. Changbin’s always been there, somehow. You don’t remember how life was without him meddling with it and tossing it around. Perhaps, little did you know, he’s somehow manifested his way into your heart and built a house there. And right now, it’s yearning for its owner to come back home.

He has the purest, most beautiful of souls. One that shines brighter than all the bursting supernovas in the universe. Changbin is a person who takes matters into his own hands, ardently, like he gives everything his all and isn’t afraid to deal with the consequences. He loves you fiercely, like the blazing hearth of the fireplace, flickering and igniting a warmth within you. 

If Changbin is fire, then you are ice. And you’d walk through flames to feel his warmth even if it means melting away forever. You’re sure of it now.

Because he knows your heart by heart.

It only hurts how you realize this after you threw his away.

He probably hates your guts. You even hate your guts. You don’t know how Jennie is calmly sitting in front of you and painting her nails a mauve color, pretending like everything’s okay. Because it’s not. You’re on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“I told you–”

“Don’t you dare say it. I know I messed up big! I don’t know what to say other than the fact that I fucked up.”

Jennie makes a face and holds her hand up with the one painted finger. “I was going to tell you how good this color looks on me… but yeah, honestly… you really fucked up,” she announces, mirroring the dreadful expression on your face.

Burying your face in your hands, you sigh as she scoots her leather office chair closer to the bed, right next to your reclined figure. You’re aware that she’s blinking slowly and waiting for you to speak up because you’re emotionally restrained, but you don’t want to. You’d prefer not to, for the most part, but Jennie doesn’t give a shit about what you want or don’t want. She knows what’s best for you. 

“So, have you spoken to him?”

You swallow the lump of uneasiness in your throat, urging to lodged words to come out syllable by syllable. “I haven’t seen or talked to him since I’ve last seen him two days ago. I feel so bad, Jen. I don’t know anymore.”

“Why haven’t you made up with him?”

“Because he hates me.”

“That’s not true,” she claims like the Local Love Expert she is. “He could never hate you.”

Furrowing your brows defensively, you argue, “Even if he didn’t hate me before, he probably hates me now. I hurt him, took his feelings and crushed them. Doesn’t matter whether he liked me or not because I hurt him as a person. And after everything he’s done for me! I feel like such an asshole.”

Jennie leans forward. “Then why did you say those things about him? If he’s so important to you.”

“Because I am a dumb bitch who fell for him, and I have too much pride and dignity to admit it,” you pout sadly, “I’m a coward.”

“Why is falling for him dumb? It’s never dumb to fall for someone because we’re all subjective to feelings. Plus, I don’t know if you’re blind or visually challenged, but Seo Changbin actually likes you. If not, why else would he storm off like that and not contact you for days? If he’s really the fuckboy you claim he is, then why hasn’t he moved onto someone else?” she continues and gets more heated with every word she says, like a professor who’s way too into her lecture about left vs. right-wing politics.

Your mouth opens and then snaps close. Her words replay in your mind as you take your sweet ass time processing them, the little gears in your brain churning and searching for answers. 

Jennie sees your stupefied expression and simpers in glee. “That’s right. Be speechless and listen to me. Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean that you have to condemn your feelings for him. He’s not some sort of plague you feel the need to avoid. Changbin’s just as human as you are,” she plants a hand on top of your knee, “Sure, you might have disliked him before, but now it’s entirely something else. Change isn’t always bad, Y/N. Sometimes it works.”

She makes everything seem okay, even if it’s really not. However, at this moment, it feels okay. 

“I’m scared to face him,” you admit helplessly, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip nervously.

“Are you going to live with that guilt and regret instead?” she shrugs, narrowing her cat-like eyes. There’s a petty look on her face as if to say, “if you don’t make it up to him, I’m going to platonically break up with you and return all your belongings in a box on your doorstep”. Because she, too, likes Changbin more than anyone you’ve ever crushed on.

“I can’t.”

“Then?” Jennie questions, trusting that you know what to do now that you’ve openly confessed everything to her.

Then, you let out a huge exhale.

You clutch your phone and race all the way back home. For the first time, you feel like your lungs might collapse sooner than your legs do, but that’s not going to stop you because you’re going to apologize to Seo Changbin even if it means taking your last breath.

ten.

A big commotion startles you when you enter your house. Chan and Jisung are standing apprehensively alongside one another and frantically fumbling around with their phones and calling and texting. You remove your headphones and wonder what they’re fussing over. They’re usually a cohesive mess, especially Jisung, but you’ve never seen Chan this frazzled.

“Y/N, you’re in so much trouble,” Chan says as soon as he sees you walk in. 

“W-What? What does that mean?” A sharp prick pierces your chest, and you feel nauseous before you even hear him out.

Jisung shakes his head at you, like he’s completely baffled by your inquiry. Like he’s debating if you have rights. “Changbin hasn’t contacted us for two days. Today is the day we drop our new mix on SoundCloud, and he’s nowhere to be found,” he mentions, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. “What have you done to him, Y/N? I’ve never seen him like this.”

Your heart drops fifty meters below sea level and stays there, drowns. “I-I don’t know. What if he’s at home? His phone’s off? He never has his phone off,” you mumble frantically. 

“We’ve checked his house, called his apartment-mates, and physically drove to all of his favorite study spots. You tell me, Y/N, where is Changbin? It’s been two days. Do you know how much can happen in two days?” Jisung upbraids, groaning loudly when Changbin’s phone goes directly to voicemail.

“I don’t know where he is! I was planning to come home and ask you guys where he was so I could apologize to him!” Your voice is drenched in worry and urgency. God, what the hell have you done?

“Well he hasn’t been here in forever because a certain someone ruined the entire atmosphere,” the younger boy chides, burdening your guilt and running it over like a freight train.

Chan tuts. “Can you at least text him? Maybe he’ll respond to you and not us.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll text him,” you say hurriedly, brushing away your fear and shakily taking your phone into your hands.

(6:37 PM)

you: where are you?

you: i’m so sorry about everything… can we talk?

you: please tell me where you are 

you: this isn’t fucking funny

(6:38 PM)

you: everyone’s worried about you

The ache in your chest blossoms when you’re about to text him “I’m worried about you”. You almost hit the send button, but your fingers freeze in place when you remember to prioritize finding him before spilling your heart out.

“Fuck, he’s not answering… I’ll just call,” you decide, and you press the phone to your ear right after.

Your call goes straight to voice message, like Jisung’s. “Why isn’t he picking up? This is so fucking petty of him! I’m going to kick his ass so hard when I find him.”

Chan sees you grabbing his car keys by the coffee table and stops you before you could run out. “Y/N, don’t bother. We’ve already checked everywhere. You’re better off waiting for him to respond instead of aimlessly wandering the streets looking for him,” he tells you.

You shrug his hand away. “I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t fucking sit here and wait for him to respond because I know he won’t.”

“Oh, so now you’re going after him? After you shrugged him off hundreds of times? Isn’t it too fucking late?” Jisung reprimands, genuinely annoyed at the foolishness of your actions. Because yes, you are a fool when it comes to him. When it comes to love. “You think that just because you say sorry, that everything’s going to be fine again? You pulled a dumbass move, dude.”

“Yes, I know! You don’t have to keep reminding me, Han,” you grit. “I’m going to make it up to him even if it means giving him my kidney or lung or whatever he needs!” Or your heart if he’ll have it, but you don’t tell him that.

The boy scoffs. “Yeah, right. Quit talking big. See if you can find him first.”

You make absolutely no attempt to argue with him. 

All you do is look intently in his eyes with the determination of someone who’s about to go off to war and say, “Fine.”

When you hobble out with keys firmly grasped in your hands, you feel like death when unnerving images consume your brain. What if he really is missing? What if he’s hurt? What if he desperately wants to go home but cannot because he’s kidnapped by a serial killer? Maybe he fits the killer’s victimology and–you have to stop yourself before you go insane. 

But then you stare at your phone, and with your heart in your throat, you open his chatbox. And when you open it, only to see a little inscription that says “Read 6:42 PM”. Your throat clogs, eyes fog up, and for the longest time, you break down into tears of relief.

eleven.

“Do you think she bought that?”

“Bro, you’re so mean to my sister!”

Jisung laughs, clutches his stomach with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Tell me CB,” he leans back on the couch and crosses his legs, “Was that some Oscar-level acting or what? Leonardo DiCaprio who? Denzel Washington who?”

Chan gapes, baffled. “You really know how to piss the crap out of someone. How do you sleep every night knowing that?”

“With a teddy bear and a blankie,” he says, completely unfazed by Chan’s abrasive comment. “So now what?”

“Now we wait.”

“With pizza?”

Chan sighs, falls back onto his chair, and just looks at him for a moment. “I mean,” he decides, considering his bank account then, slowly, “Sure, whatever. Just take my card.”

“Do you text her the location or do I?”

“We’ll decide after the pizza.”

His friend groans at his response. “SpearB is either going to thank us or strangle us, but fuck it. What toppings?”

Chan thinks that Changbin’s definitely going to thank them and strangle them all at once. Not lethally. Just metaphorically. Because he’s too overly soft for you to think about anything else. “Pepperoni and sausage,” he says.

And now, they can properly wait.

twelve.

“Please leave a message after the tone. When you are finished you may hang up or press–”

You’re staring at the screen of your phone, freaking out over the fact that it’s hanging by a thread at twenty percent, which is not nearly enough to last you several more phone calls and many more instances of double-texting. Of course, that’s all you’ve been doing for the past hour. Like Chan said, they’ve checked everywhere and so have you.

The night passes by in a blur of honking cars and mindless chatter, and somehow, you find yourself wandering the streets of Old Town where the maze of narrow winding streets is as complex as the heart. The sky is diffused with pinks and blues. The streets lamps are aglow. You trail alongside the cobblestone steps until you reach the town center where flocks of pigeons gather and buskers with open guitar cases line up for spare change.

With buildings three and four stories high and street jammed with cars (you must have lucked out finding parking), everything is hustle and bustle, especially around nightfall because closing Mom-and-Pop stalls are hollering out prices and throwing bouquets of flowers out on the streets in buckets, trying their very best to sell out on today’s inventory. In the distance, the aroma of large iced cinnamon buns hits your nostrils, and you’re actually tempted to buy one until you remember that you’re not here for yummy pastries. 

You can’t, not when there’s a bittersweet taste left in your mouth. 

When you check your phone, it’s at fifteen percent, and you receive a notification with a red battery on it. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mumble stiffly, but then, your phone vibrates in your hand.

(7:49 PM)

han bby: hey, where r u?

(7:50 PM)

you: why, DID HE FINALLY TEXT YOU?

han bby: yeah

han bby: he’s at a wedding on the rooftop of the hilton

(7:51 PM)

you: like the hilton hotel ???

han bby: duh

you: tf is he at a wedding…

han bby: so what, can his cousin NOT get married now?

(7:52 PM)

you: when does it end :/

han bby: why tf are u waiting for it to end

han bby: you just go 

you: i don’t have an invitation you headass

you: i can’t just walk in and sit down

han bby: you can now :)

(7:53 PM)

you: i can’t

han bby: are you seriously going to let bin dance with someone else other than you?

you: um, no. he’s mine.

(7:54 PM)

han bby: thought so

And you can’t even object.

Not because Jisung convinced you. Not because you’re jealous at the thought of Seo Changbin dancing with some other girl and putting his hands on her waist and holding her close (even though you are avidly salty). But because you’ve somehow found yourself in Old Town, and among the houses and apartments piled on top of each other with a series of interlacing alleyways that zigzag all the way down to the fountain, there’s the Hilton in all it’s expensive glory.

So really, how do you object? 

You’re far too spooked to question fate when it’s this conspicuous. It’s been apparent to you the second you found parking in, out of all places, the center of tourism.

You swallow down your nerves with a gulp, taking a deep breath before walking through the polished glass doors of the Hilton and make a beeline to the first elevator you see. You’ve managed to push through the buff security guard standing in the lobby as you scurry your way across the marble floors. Even he senses it—no way in hell are you willing to pay for a room in the Hilton, but he’s probably too antsy for his dinner break to stop you. Marching inside the golden elevator, you hit the button to the eighteenth floor.

It’s been confirmed that the Seo Family is undeniably rich because rooftop weddings are probably the easiest way to burn money. What kind of financial goals.

“Are you here for the wedding too?” A girl in posh attire asks, dainty wallet in her hands and sleek ponytail on her head, but what stood out to you was her sharp cat-eye wing. She must have seen you press the button to the eighteenth floor.

“Um, yeah,” you tell a white lie. “I’m actually running a little late. Excuse me for the lack of appropriate attire.” Your cheeks flare when you see your reflection in the elevator. In fact, shorts and a blouse are nowhere along the lines of appropriate. Gosh, why did he have to be attending a wedding and not bowling or something?

The girl narrows her eyes at you. “Are you a friend or family member of the bride?” she asks further.

“Something like that,” you say, not knowing if you can keep up with the lie any longer.

“In that case… I think I might have something for you to change in,” she grabs your arm and stops the elevator at the twelfth floor, “I’m Chaerin by the way, cousin of the bride, and I have her hotel keys.” 

You eyes round in panic. “No, it’s fine! You don’t have to go through that hassle for me! You’re already running late, and I’d hate to ruin the wedding for you.” 

The female ignores your pleas and drags you down the hallway to the room. “Puh-lease,” she laughs. “The priest spends about one hour yapping about their accomplishments and introducing every member of the immediate family. And how do you think you’re going to get past the security guards in sneakers?”

“I cry a little and race to the altar?”

“That’s cute, but I doubt that you would want to marry a groom twice your age,” Chaerin teases when she scans the hotel key. “Okay, um, it’s sort of a mess, but let me find my luggage somewhere.”

“A mess?” You gape noticeably at the suite with city views, a king-sized bed that sleeps three people easily with extra legroom, and dreamy commodities like a complimentary breakfast bar and rainfall showerheads. Rich people have rich standards, you know that now.

You step inside cautiously, feeling extremely out of place. “Chaerin, I don’t think this is a good idea…”

“Aha!” She exclaims, hauling her luggage on the bed without breaking one of her perfect red acrylics, and lays out her outfits one by one. “I know. This is a great idea. A damn genius idea! You can test out my new Paris line.”

“P-Paris line?” You nearly trip over your words. How many other lines does she have? Seo Changbin has some affluent relatives.

“Yes, Paris. Like the city where dreams come true and where pickpockets thrive,” she responds absentmindedly as she runs her hands over several dresses and jumpsuits laid out onto the bedsheets. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

Chaerin stands up straight with her hands on her lips, looks over at you with a fierce glint in her eyes. “Okay Y/N, if you don’t work one of these outfits tonight, I’m trashing the entire line and starting over. Do you understand?”

You inhale, exhale. “That’s an awful amount of pressure, but I’ll try my best.” Considering you have an entire season’s clothing line resting in the palm of your hands, you feel like you’re about to piss yourself.

“Have your pick.”

Your eyes immediately gravitate towards the simple black jumpsuit with gold accents and a subtle flare opening for the bottoms. “They’re all amazingly gorgeous, but I think I might have to go with this one,” you say. The fabric feels like cotton candy clouds at the pads of your fingertips, so light as if you’re not even touching it with your mortal hands. It’s easily the most expensive thing you’ve ever had the luxury of feeling. 

With that, Chaerin smiles and shuffles you into the bathroom to get changed, slamming the bamboo door behind you.

Eventually, you change out of the clothes and pull the jumpsuit over yourself, letting the bottoms fall to the floor as the silky fabric drapes comfortably around your legs. You pull the top all the way up to the neckline and adjust the loose strands of hair framing your face. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself, and you don’t know if it is something you can pull off and save Chaerin’s Paris line. The jumpsuit looks great on its own, on a hanger, on a rack, with a hefty price tag clipped to it, but you don’t know if it looks good on you.

You pop your head out from the bathroom. “Is it okay?” you ask, standing awkwardly as you hold your arms wide.

Chaerin claps her hands together and beams, grabbing your shoulders and turning you a full 360 to admire you in her very creation. “Paris is saved,” she says in a hushed whisper. “All you need… is this.”

She hooks a necklace around your neck before you even get the chance to decline, and the cool metal falls gently on your décolletage, tying the entire look of the evening together. “Now, everything is… wait… shoes,” she urges you to change into a pair of silver-lined sandals, “Now, everything is perfect. You’re stunning, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, not knowing how to respond to the compliment because Chaerin is so magnificent and elegant that you’re at a loss for words. “I promise to return it right after. You’re truly a godsend.”

“No need to, keep it. It’s like the jumpsuit was made for you, and it’s just waiting for you to crash a perfectly nice wedding in. Totally badass,” Chaerin insists, not taking no for an answer. 

You know better than to argue with her because, Chaerin. “Thank y–wait… crash a wedding? You know I don't have an invitation?” you confess guilty, terribly ashamed for lying to her after everything she’s done for you.

“Trust me. I know everyone on the bride’s side of the family, and you’re here for something entirely different… so spill.”

So, you can’t help but spill because Chaerin, and Charin’s eyes staring deep into your soul and digging for answers, and Chaerin’s terrifying presence when you rub her the wrong way. “I’m here to make it up to a friend I hurt. And I hate that I hurt him because he’s not any of the things I called him. I need to make it right to him before it’s too late. Considering that I’m here… I don’t think I have another option but to crash the wedding, which I previously did not know there was even a wedding… but I assure you that nothing is going to happen to the bride and groom because he’s not the groom but a relative of the bride–”

Chaerin holds a hand up to stop you from rambling her ears off, and your jaw snaps close obediently.

“Listen, that is so disgustingly cute, but you’re not crashing the wedding tonight,” she starts off, her tone serious.

“Oh…” Your heart drops at her answer.

“Because you’re my plus-one now! And front row seats!” Chaerin finishes and takes your hand in hers, marching you en route to the rooftop wedding. 

Oh.

thirteen.

Your mind begins to wander when Chaerin’s walking you past the reception and onto the rooftop terrace where the wedding is currently taking place.

It’s a special wedding. 

The guests are seated in a sweeping panorama while the rustic buildings of Old Town and city skyscrapers in the far backdrop contradict one another in an abstract poised against a pale blue skyline. As the night descends, street lights and a panoply of stars illuminate the horizon, creating an urban aerie. Avantgarde light fixtures line the ceiling, glittering up the atmosphere, rose petals raining. Here, it seems like an ethereal fairytale, one so dreamlike that you wish to stay asleep forever, even if your just someone’s plus-one.

Chaerin takes your arm and positions you right in front of the altar (front row as she had promised) in the only two available seats. It’s like everyone knows that she’s bound to bring a guest, like a swanky gentleman, because, Chaerin (you’ve only known her for fifteen minutes, but you can guess her personality pretty spot-on). However, no one expected her to bring a guest like you, someone who was originally wearing something as tragic as sneakers to a classy wedding.

A clandestine breath escapes your lips, and nervously, you look down to check your phone. Surprisingly enough, you still have ten percent battery… maybe you can save that until you have a chance to text Changbin.

“Told you we’d make it in time. They’re barely on the vows,” Chaerin whispers in your ear, tucking a loose strand behind. “Stop being so stiff, Y/N. You’re working my new Paris line.”

“Right, sorry,” you mumble before sitting up a bit straighter.

“Also, my idiot cousin is sitting beside you. He’s pretty cute, right? And he looks around your age too!” Your new friend nudges your ribs, and you fight the urge to laugh aloud. You’re not here to meet cute boys, you’re here to make it up to one cute boy, singular. Regardless, you thought you’d give her the time of day and indulge in her matchmaking, so you turn to glance over at her so-called “idiot cousin”.

A small gasp escapes your lips.

Beside you is Changbin, and the first thought that pops into your mind is how beautiful he looks and that it feels like eons since you’ve last seen his stupid face. Granted, it’s only been two days, but you miss seeing him. You miss him. You miss him so fucking badly.

You know he sees you too because his expression mirrors your aghast and slightly overwhelmed one.

The next thing that pops in your mind is that dark colors compliment him especially well, you decide when you catch a glimpse of his black silk button-down underneath his black suit jacket, tailored to fit every curve and indent of his body. His hair is styled up, and you can openly tell that he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the base of the altar. All he’s doing is sitting there, with his hands clasped on his lap in front of him, listening intently to the vows with a blank expression. 

You don’t know about him, but you’re not sure if you can focus on the vows when he’s sitting beside you like this.

The crowd erupts into laughter at the groom’s vow, and you will yourself to look forward. Weddings usually make you cry, but this time, you’re far too distracted to even think about crying—even if you do, it won’t be because of the wedding.

What you do try to catch, however, are the bits and pieces of the vows. Apparently, their engagement has been a long time coming, ever since the second they laid eyes on each other across the great library on their university campus during finals week, where the groom thought he was utterly fucked over statistics and the bride thought she could help him Not Flunk the class. You guess some people just work that way, like grains of sand settling onto the ocean floor. The couple sounds like they’ve been together for a damn long time; no long distance, no arguments, no problems. Just picture-perfect love.

They’re glowing with tears and love, holding each other’s hands, gazing into each other’s eyes as they smile and finish their vows. They are the only stars in the room, in their galaxies, because the love they have for each other holds everything together like gravity.

In the face of love, everyone cries and loses their thought, including Chaerin who is trying her best not to mess up her eyeliner. And you’re no exception because the watering of your eyes has fogged up your vision so much that everything’s a blur, glistening, but you refuse to let the tears fall. Not now. Not in front of Changbin. 

You keep your eyes glued to the newlyweds when they share their first kiss as husband and wife, and everyone bursts into cheers and applause. But your train of thought is still trapped on Changbin. On the way his heart shattered when he stormed out the front door. On how much he’s loved you throughout the years and you’ve just been too dumb and too blind to see it. On how he’s sitting beside you, hurt, because you’ve hurt him. 

If only you can turn back time.

Suddenly, when the guests all stand up and filter out of their seats to congratulate the newlyweds, you make eye contact with Changbin, but he breaks it just as briefly, brushes you off like you’ve never existed in the first place. But behind that stoic expression, you see pain and resistance, like he has to wrestle himself to look away from your eyes, from you. And he stands and follows the rest of the guests into reception.

He leaves you with your heart collapsing, the walls crumbling down in ruins. You must look like a trainwreck in front of him, and you’re not even mad at him for ignoring you—you can’t—because you don’t have a right to be mad. You made no effort to chase after him, so of course he would leave you. What goes around comes around. It’s just karma. Leaves you feeling worse than death because it’s burying you alive.

You don’t realize that you’re crying until Chaerin reaches up to brush away the tears that fall from your eyes with the pad of her thumb.

fourteen.

Dinner was… quite torturous because you learned, today, that the members of the Seo Family are not only rich but also have a penchant for tormenting you. 

Chaerin seems to have noticed the tension between you and her idiot cousin, so she pulls all the strings she could possibly pull with her wine red acrylics and makes sure that you sit beside Changbin. And let’s just say that dinner was difficult, in fact, excruciating when you feel the body heat radiating off him and his hand constantly brushing against yours.

To torment you even further, the bride and groom are having their first dance, and the song that plays is:

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?

Just your luck. That one Crazy Rich Asians song. How fitting.

Even more, Chaerin kicks your knee with her stiletto heels, and you wince when you see her not-so-subtly motioning towards Changbin as if she’s saying “kiss him already, you brat”. You elect to ignore her with the remaining courage you have because now seriously isn’t the right time. It’s too noisy, too many people.

Soon, you think Changbin has felt suffocated enough by your lingering presence because he gets up from his seat and excuses himself with a soft, “I’m going to get some fresh air.” 

Before you could lose him in the crowd and before Chaerin could even think about kicking your shin again, you’re already following him through crystal chandeliers and marble pillars, footsteps tapping against the embossed white wood panels of the ballroom. You politely shove through the sea of people, mumbling light apologies along the way until you reach the final pillar leading up to the balcony.

“Changbin,” you call out, though his back profile firmly faces you. He stares ahead, at the traffic below, at the stars above, but not at you.

You appear beside him, footsteps coming to a halt, slightly out of breath. “Changbin, I have something to tell you,” you plead, hoping he would spare a glance at you. After all, you did almost crash a wedding for him. The least he could do was listen to you.

Changbin turns his head away from you, but you persist anyway and walk to the other side. “Park says that compound interest is the eighth wonder of the world, but I think he’s wrong,” you tell him justifiably. 

He narrows his eyes in confusion. “Did you come all the way here and befriend my cousin just to tell me that?” Changbin asks, still not meeting your gaze.

“No–well, yes–but mostly no. I came here to tell you that Park sucks ass because I got rejected to the business program in New York and that he’s wrong about the eighth wonder of the world because it’s not compound interest… because it’s you… because it’s a wonder how you’re still here despite all the stupid things I’ve said and done to you,” you confess, staring at the tiles beneath your shoes. “I’m sorry, Bin. I really am.”

“Really? Don’t waste your time apologizing to the spitting epitome of a pompous fuckboy who has everything in the goddamn world. I’d hate to burden you, Y/N, and inconvenience you for apologizing. Because that’s all I am. A fucking burden on top of a pedestal,” Changbin scoffs, rolling his eyes as he glances away from you. 

With every word he quotes, tears pile up in your eyes. You don’t mean them, you really don’t, but how do you convey that to him?

“I don’t mean them. I’m just–I know I have no excuse to say those things behind your back,” you face the ground, “I’m just scared, okay? I don’t like admitting to things.”

“Scared of what?” he snaps assertively. “Is admitting that you’re my friend so terrifying because you’d have to give up an arm or a leg? Is it so detrimental because I’m a fucking embarrassment or something?”

“No, it’s not like that!” You shake your head repeatedly to show him exactly how much you don’t mean your words. “You’re not an embarrassment.” There are more words on the tip of your tongue threatening to spill, but something is still holding you back.

Changbin furrows his brows and emits a bitter laugh into the night air, nodding his head sarcastically, a skeptic of your words. “Then what is it? What are you so scared of? Is there some monster hiding beneath your bed at night–”

“–no! It’s not that!” You heave a sigh and blink your tears away, clutching his arm and forcing him to look you in the eye because he’s being ridiculous right now. Despite you liking him, all it takes is Seo Changbin to say something completely absurd and offhand to frustrate you into fessing up. “I’m scared of you! Of liking you! Of my stupid feelings for you! Because apparently, miraculously, they’ve evolved into something other than overall dislike and general distaste!”

“Right,” he responds, unconvinced. “Is that why you’re going to break my heart afterward? Have you ever considered my feelings towards you? It’s funny how you call me the fuckboy when you’re out here fucking with my feelings.”

“You left before you could even listen to the whole thing!” you protest through glossy eyes. “Talk about some shitty eavesdropping skills.”

Changbin pauses and continues, “Okay. Then tell me.”

“I only said I was going to break your heart because I was positive that you were going to break mine first. So maybe if I just continued hating you, then I could convince myself that you’re just another boy I ended up having almost feelings for.”

“What makes you so positive that I’m going to break your heart?” he asks. You don’t miss the way his midnight eyes begin to light up and the trace of a smile that dances across his lips, hesitant but blooming.

“Because you’re Seo Changbin.”

The boy only chuckles and holds onto your bare shoulders. His hands are so warm and soft, and you don’t realize how much you’ve missed them until you feel them again. “I’m aware of my name, princess,” he says softly, eyes sparkling. 

The heart blossoms in your chest as the nickname plays a symphony to your ears, leaves you wondering what else awaits on his lips. 

“I thought you were known for breaking hearts,” you respond to him. “You’re so damn cocky and annoying at times. It doesn’t seem like you ever take things seriously, because you don’t need to, you already have everything in the world. But that’s just me misunderstanding you completely. You hide a lot of things about yourself, Bin. You’re humble even when people praise your music, and you do this dumb thing where you press your chin in when you’re embarrassed by compliments. You’re selfless when it comes to your friends–there are a handful of times where you had to deal with Chan because he’s so annoyingly stubborn when it comes to producing stuff. You take the extra step in making everyone feel comfortable… because you always have a smile on your face when you approach someone. You’re cool, I guess.”

“You guess?” Changbin repeats playfully, holds your hand to his chest as he presses it to his beating heart. “If I'm so cool, when did you start liking me then?”

Pink taints your cheeks as you see the fond smile on his lips. “The first time was probably during that one extra credit opportunity Park bestowed upon us. The artificial intelligence talk.”

“I spilled coffee all over you.”

“Okay, but you gave me your hoodie that night.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking cute.”

You feel the heat igniting your cheeks and tipping your ears. “Shut up! I am not cute!” you hiss in denial.

“No. You’re stunning, did you know that? Breathtaking. Even without Chaerin’s help, you’d easily be the prettiest person at the wedding,” he adds unhelpfully to the pink blossoms on your cheeks. Always so unnecessary. 

“But,” you fight the blush, “I’m sorry for saying those things about you. I’m sorry for not telling you about my feelings. I’m sorry for assuming things. I’m sorry a million times, a billion times, and a million more times because you’re the most amazing person in my life,” you hiccup.

Words spill from your mouth like stardust and ascend into the cosmos above. A weight lifts from your chest. 

Changbin suppresses a smile and raises a brow. “The most amazing person in your life? The eighth wonder in your world? Going against Park? The audacity! If I’m not mistaken, Y/N, it seems as though you’re in love with me,” he says, voice deep and huskier than you’ve ever heard it, when he shortens the distance between your bodies.

You mentally roll your eyes at how insufferable he can be even as you’re pouring your heart out to him. “Fuck, I guess I’m in love with you then,” you confess.

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll break your heart?” he challenges, noses brushing. 

“Then I’ll crush yours. Like a bug.”

“You hate bugs.”

Your eyes trace the arch of his lips before replying, “Exactly. So don’t make me have to do it.”

Changbin smiles breathlessly and gives you a small nod before closing his eyes until they disappear into the shadows of his lashes. 

You’re not clear when in time his lips meet yours, but when they do, it’s just the two of you in the galaxy, moving silently in each other’s orbits. He dusts kisses over every inch of your blushing features, gently like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, like you’re the moon to his sun, until you feel like there’s champagne coursing through your veins. The stars are aligned, the fates are written in stone, and everything falls into place—miraculously—because love’s just like that. 

His kisses warm your body from the inside out and spark a fire from within that glows brightly for him. The flames curl and sway, flicker this way and that, and you hold your hands out to get just a little more of the gentle heat. 

For so long, your heart feels like its owner is finally home.

When you part with tugging heartstrings and rosy cheeks, you push him away and ask, “Wait, when did you start liking me?”

“I mean, I’ve always sort of liked you. Then you said those things about me to Chan, and I knew they were out of spite. A part of me knew you were just throwing a fit because you’re always somewhat angry at something, but I was genuinely upset because what if that was really how you thought of me? Some fuckboy who plays around because he has all the money in the world.” Changbin looks down and starts to play with your fingers. 

His lips quirk upwards knowingly. “I don’t care what other people think of me because, in the end, they’re just other people. They’re not you. And maybe… I do care about what you think of me because I really like you. Like for real. Like you’re the eighth wonder of my fucking world–which is a terrible way to start a conversation by the way. But honestly, you drive me insane, have been from the start.”

“You drive me insane too. I nearly crashed a wedding for you. Like full on t-shirt and sneakers at a formal wedding,” you mumble, face buried in the crook of his neck, and his hand caresses the small of your back, brings you even closer.

“You know you could have easily told me all of this after the wedding, right?”

“No,” you protest, making a face. “I don’t want you dancing and holding someone else’s hand and staring lovingly into their eyes. Gross.”

Changbin laughs at your appalled expression, his voice like sweet honey gold. “Are you jealous?” he asks.

“I’m not not jealous.”

“The negations cancel each other out. So, you are jealous.”

“When are you going to stop being annoying?” you deadpan.

He pulls you in for a crushing hug, and you feel like you have the entire universe in your arms when he says, “I will never stop annoying you.”

As his words spill into space, you smile in contentment, and that’s when you know that you’ll have him until every last star in the galaxy dies. 

You know this because, since the very beginning of time, before the chemistry of the cosmos was created, before the sun and the moon and the stars, before the seven (or eight) wonders of the world, you were already set on him.

And across the sea of space, he was set on you.

note:

phew, thank you so much for reading this & if you enjoyed, please hit like or reblog or hmu in my inbox ( for wattpad, comment !!!) and scream to me about loving bin or me being annoying and talking too much about loving bin :D ilysm and please take care of yourself until the next fic !!!

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