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“but what if i’m being annoying :(“ everyone’s annoying dipshit it came free with fucking being alive and existing. now go talk to your friends

Soft headcanon: Enji resting his warm hand over his partner's belly, soothing their period cramps with his heat, gently running his fingers through their hair.

and just like that ya girl is now hooked

chapter one — ps. i've waited for you.

a celebration, red wine and a new face. a recipe for a brewing disaster, it turns out, something you realize when you cross paths with park seonghwa for the first time.

series teaser ! series m.list ! chapter two

pairing. model!seonghwa x fembodied!reader

genre. strangers to lovers

chapter word count. 10.5k

warnings. they're all just really rich and successful, alcohol consumption, smoking (cigarettes), implied mxm (no mxm, just a misunderstanding really), smut ! mdni .

LOVE IS A FUNNY THING. IT COMES WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT, JUST LIKE IT LEAVES WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT TO.

Having a dancer as your best friend comes with a lot of perks.

Not only does it grant you free entry to some of the world's most important shows, which is great - you have to admit. Perhaps it’s Wooyoung’s determination that lets you slip in without paying thousands for a ticket, thousands everyone else has to pay, everyone but you.

Jung Wooyoung. A man you’ve seen grow, sprout into something bigger, bigger than himself - bigger than most things. Hongjoong had written a poem for him once, as a congratulation for completing yet another successful show, where he described him just like that.

Bigger than most things.

Wooyoung is bigger than every stage he steps his foot on, bigger than every audience that watches him with careful eyes; he’s both bigger, and louder, than the applause that follows.

He always has been, you realize, even back when his lanky teenage figure restricted him from moving the way he wished to. Maybe not restricted, because he’s never been restricted, never - maybe just held back. Merely.

Having Jung Wooyoung as your best friend comes with a lot of perks, but seeing him grow? That has to be the biggest perk of them all.

‘’We’ll be there in five, mhm, yeah,’’ 

Wooyoung is great at managing stress, and he’s always been. Perhaps it comes with the job, you think, because you’re nowhere as patient as him; but you’re not a dancer, he is. ‘’Just prepare some champagne, the most expensive one,’’

Expensive, a word that slips off his lips so effortlessly. Expensive. Just like he himself. You observe the way his lips curl into a small smile, almost a smug one, as he hums into the phone. ‘’Perfect. I’ll see you soon,’’

‘’Expensive, huh?’’ Your words come out mumbled as he hangs up the phone, and to anyone else, it sounds like you’re criticizing him. But not to Wooyoung. To him, it’s confirmation; a compliment. Even though he does pick up on the teasing tone lingering behind your words. 

‘’Of course,’’ He lets out, small smile plastered on his lips as he reaches out to grab your hand in his. ‘’Only the most expensive champagne for the most expensive people.’’

A chuckle leaves the back of your throat. ‘’I wouldn’t call Hongjoong an expensive person,’’ You’re teasing him again, and he knows that. Hence the chuckle that rips through his chest, a chuckle filled with joy. ‘’If you only knew,’’ He replies, ‘’Those art supplies are probably worth more than your apartment.’’

Kim Hongjoong. An artist at heart, an artist that hasn’t quite succeeded just yet, but still an artist, nonetheless. He’s probably wearing something obscene tonight, you realize, something that only Kim Hongjoong would wear. 

You just hope he at least dyed his hair, so the blue color doesn’t take all the attention away from Wooyoung - not that he has. You know he hasn’t. Because Kim Hongjoong is an artist, and just what is an artist without expressing themselves?

‘’There are other important people coming, too.’’ His hand slip out of your own, returning to his lap, ‘’Really important people.’’

You hum, ‘’Do I know any of them?’’ You ask, even though you already know the answer based on his initial statement. You don’t know them. ‘’You’ve met San, right? I danced with him back last year, the solo,’’ 

Right, you have met San. If you hadn’t spent years observing the way Wooyoung dances, you would’ve said San is just as good as him. But he’s not. He’s good, he’s incredible; but he’s not Wooyoung. You’ve met San, you’ve seen him dance, but you don’t know him. ‘’He’s going to be there,’’ Your friend continues from across the cab, ‘’I think he might be bringing some people with him, too.’’

They’re important people, you realize. Whoever it is San is bringing with him, they’re important people; because otherwise, they wouldn’t be there. Wooyoung is bigger than most things, and he’s picky. Jung Wooyoung is a lot of things, you realize.

You hum, ‘’So there’s important people coming,’’ You note, ‘’But there’s someone more important.’’

Wooyoung wouldn’t order the most expensive champagne, unless there was someone special coming. He opts to settle for the average most of the time. It keeps him grounded, he had claimed once, helps him not stray away from where he came from. Before he became Jung Wooyoung, when he was just Wooyoung - who dreamed of bigger things.

The things he now had.

Your friend hums in both agreement and satisfaction, satisfaction probably from you knowing him so well. You know him so well, to the point where he doesn’t even have to say anything. You just know. ‘’Who is this special person, then?’’

Your question brings a smile back onto his lips, his gaze landing on you. It’s a playful gaze, a gaze only Wooyoung could give - a gaze that makes you truly wonder just who the special person is. 

‘’Trust me,’’ He lets out, the cab slowing down as he speaks, ‘’You’ll know once you see him.’’

Between Wooyoung hugging his friends and apologizing for being late to his own celebration, you notice that Hongjoong has, in fact, not dyed his hair. Not that that you excepted any less. 

‘’You don’t think he’ll be upset about my hair, right?’’ He mumbles into your hair as he pulls you in for a hug, a tight one, so he can whisper without Wooyoung hearing him. You chuckle as you pat him on the back, ‘’Only time will tell.’’

The blue-haired man looks at you as you pull away, not mirroring the small but playful smile plastered on your lips. You know Wooyoung probably won’t mind, but it’s Wooyoung. And you never know with Wooyoung.

The big grin that forms on Wooyoungs lips when his eyes land on Hongjoong, however, confirms that it won’t be a problem. ‘’I love the blue hair,’’ He exclaims, and it might sound like a backhanded compliment to some; but it’s not. He’s genuine, something both you and Hongjoong pick up on. 

‘’I was afraid it’d be too much,’’ Hongjoong nervously chuckles, to which Wooyoung just rolls his eyes before pulling him into a hug. 

‘’Nothing is ever too much for Kim Hongjoong.’’ Ironic, you think, because you could say the same about Wooyoung himself. And so can Hongjoong, but he doesn’t - instead he just chuckles into the hug. 

Sitting down, you realize that the other people surrounding the table are important people. San is indeed there, sitting at the edge of the table; offering you a small nod as you sit down. His slicked back hair and black suit prove to not only you, but to everyone else, that he’s important. 

But he’s not important enough for the most expensive champagne, you note. 

Neither are any of the other people San brought with him, people Wooyoung shook hands with for a little too long and possibly a little too hard. They’re important, they’re possibilities for Wooyoung and necessary for his next big step - but not expensive champagne important.

‘’I’m sorry for running a little late,’’ Wooyoung chuckles as he takes a seat, ‘’You can’t stress perfection, though, right, Hongjoong?’’ The wink he sends Hongjoongs way makes the table chuckle - even Hongjoong himself, even though he knows his friend is making fun of him and his precision. He’s an artist, after all. A very precise one. 

None of these people are important enough for the bottle of champagne placed in the middle of the table. Not only can you tell, but Wooyoung hasn’t touched it yet; which means the star of the show has yet to arrive.

The star of the show, besides Wooyoung, of course.

And just as Wooyoung picks up his already filled glass of wine to take a sip, his eyes widen. He never got to take that sip, because it’s already placed back on the table and he’s standing up before he has the chance to. ‘’Ah,’’ He exclaims, a wide grin plastered on his lips. ‘’Now the night can really begin.’’

Your eyes land on whatever, or whoever, your friend was looking at. Only then do you realize why Wooyoung had ordered the most expensive champagne, and why none of the other people seemed to be as important.

‘’Everyone,’’ Wooyoung announces, ‘’Please welcome the most important person of the night,’’

It’s Wooyoung, and you know that. Wooyoung is the most important person of the night, Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. No one else, just Wooyoung.

And possibly the stranger everyone now had their eyes on.

‘’The man himself,’’ Wooyoung continues, the same grin - a grin of pure bliss - still plastered on his lips, ‘’Park Seonghwa.’’

Pretty.

You think just that, pretty, the first time your eyes landed on Park Seonghwa.

Park Seonghwa. Tall, elegant, almost angelic in the most wicked way - and pretty. 

You weren’t sure what part of him made him pretty, perhaps it was the fact that he wasn’t exactly stunning, a little too plain to be considered extraordinary - remarkable, sure, devastating? Definitely. 

But stunning? Not quite yet.

So you settled for pretty, he is pretty, and eventually he’ll probably be stunning to you, too. Eventually. You don’t know when, but by his bittersweet beauty, you’re almost certain he’ll be stunning in your eyes at one point.

Until then, he’ll be devastatingly pretty. Pretty. Devastatingly so. 

”So I told him he’d have to find someone else,” Loud, that’s exactly what Wooyoung is - loud. He’s loud when he talks, he’s loud when expressing his emotions, he’s loud when he twists his limbs in ways you didn’t even know was humanly possible - all for the performance. That’s exactly what Wooyoung is, loud, in the best way possible. 

“Did he give you a hard time?” San isn’t as loud, something you pick up on behind the rim of your wine glass. Wooyoung shakes his head, confident while doing so. “No,” Once again, confident, “He knows better than that.”

“You’re too confident for your own good sometimes,” You know your own words are a lie, and so does everyone else at the table; but they let you lie. Wooyoung is confident, something he’s earned and deserves - but that doesn’t stop you from teasing him. 

His lips curl into a smile as he raises his glass, toasting before bringing it up to his lips. As to what, you’re not sure - yet you mimic his gestures, toasting. 

Toasting to Wooyoung’s confidence that landed him the center role in the biggest show of the year, toasting to the familiarity of sitting around the table with your close ones.

Toasting to the new, devastatingly pretty face. 

You let your eyes wander when bringing your glass up to your lips, and you know exactly where they’re wandering before you can even stop it from happening. Not that you would want to stop it from happening in the first place. 

Park Seonghwa. His black hair almost looks too perfect, the way it falls over his forehead and slightly above his eyes. It looks perfect to the point where you wish to slip your fingers into it, slightly ruffle it, and sit back down like nothing had happened.

Like that would stop your gaze from wandering back to him, over and over again.

He really is pretty, you realize, as the candlelight reflects in his eyes. Just where has Wooyoung been hiding him?

“I’m glad you all could make it,” Wooyoung is the first voice that brings you out of your trance, your wine glass back on the table and your eyes back on your friend instead. Your friend, instead of the devastatingly pretty stranger. 

“You really think we’d miss this?” Hongjoong is the second voice that brings you out of your trance, yet another excuse to not let your eyes dart back onto the stranger. Wooyoung’s laugh is loud, and you mentally thank him for it, because otherwise, your eyes would’ve wandered back onto him. 

Park Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa, who had only uttered about three words since he sat down. Park Seonghwa, who you can’t seem to tear your eyes off. 

“No, of course not,” He’s quick to defend himself, like Wooyoung always is, “But I know some of you have busy schedules, so I’m just thankful.”

This time, it isn’t just your eyes that wander over to the stranger. His eyes, however, remain on his friend. And you’re sure they sparkled a little extra as the corners of his lips curled into a smile. 

“Of course.”

Four words. Park Seonghwa had uttered four words since he sat down, four words too little yet four words too much - four words that seem to satisfy his friend, nonetheless. “He’s a model,” Wooyoung states, and it all suddenly makes sense to you, “It’s not often he’s in town, it’s a miracle he’s even able to be here right now to be honest.”

Tall, elegant, almost angelic in the most wicked way - and a model, something you could see coming light years away. If it wasn’t his looks giving it away, it was the way he preserved himself. They seem to do that, models, something you had picked up on after meeting one too many through Wooyoung.

“Ah,” Hongjoong lets out and you notice the way Seonghwas bangs slightly move across his forehead as he looks over at him, “So you’re the international friend Wooyoung keeps talking about.”

You hope that Hongjoongs curiosity would get him to tell more about himself, so you wouldn’t have to keep guessing. 

Does he like white or red wine more? He certainly looked like someone who prefers white wine, yet red wine goes more with his image, you think. Would he call a cab once the nights over, or does he have a driver already waiting for him? You think he drives a black car, definitely not a white one - it’s too flashy for someone like him. 

Not only is he devastating to look at, but he most certainly knows how to catch people’s attention by just existing. Does he know? Is he doing it on purpose, you wonder, just like you wonder if he’s caught onto your lingering gazes.

“She’s my childhood friend,” It isn’t until your eyes meet his you realize the conversation is now about you. “She’s the Y/N I’ve spoken about.”

He’s most definitely caught on. And he’s sneaky about it, just like you expected him to be. Maybe he’s easier to read than you originally thought. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

By the fourth sentence that had spilled past his lips ever since he sat down, your name leaves his lips. And it isn’t until the waiter brings him a glass of red wine and he slightly grimaces as the liquid comes into contact with his tongue that you realize you might have him all figured out. 

‘’Likewise,’’ You offer, even though you’ve never heard of him before. Which makes you wonder, once again, just where has Wooyoung been hiding him - and why?

His gaze lingers on you for a moment, almost like he’s letting you try to decipher him. Like he’s challenging you. You don’t. Not even when he allows you to look at him do you decipher him, if anything, you just find yourself growing even more curious. 

He’s important, he’s incredibly important, yet he’s a complete secret. And the rest of the table feels the same way, you realize. No one knows who he is, or why he’s important. He’s Wooyoung’s international friend, and that’s all you know.

And that he most definitely doesn’t enjoy drinking red wine.

He’s a white wine type of guy, and you know he’s just trying to be generous when he tells Wooyoung that the expensive champagne was too much and that he didn’t have to. But just like you know, he also knows Wooyoung did, in fact, have to. 

He knows Wooyoung, and you begin to wonder if Wooyoung even knows him.

‘’I was thinking about bringing this back to my place,’’ Wooyoung suddenly mumbles, slightly pulling down the fabric of his white button-up shirt to look at the clock decorating his wrist. ‘’Everyone’s welcome, if you have the time, of course.’’

Park Seonghwa is indeed a busy guy, you note - judging by the way Wooyoung glances at him after the words left his lips. Seonghwa just looks at him, just for a moment. Then there’s a smile forming on his lips, and you wait for his response. 

You expect a no. No, that he’s too busy, too busy to celebrate his friend. His friend who has never even mentioned him, yet his friend who seems to hold him very close.

‘’I’d love to,’’ You wait. You wait, you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.

I’d love to, and Park Seonghwa proves to you that maybe you hadn’t figured him out just yet. 

Wooyoung visibly lights up upon hearing his words, a grin forming on his lips for the nth time that night. Almost like he doesn’t even care about the rest, their answer doesn’t even matter - because Seonghwa agreed to come, and that was enough.

It was enough for you, too. With a small nod Wooyoung’s way, you agree, and so does the rest of the table.

You don’t miss the way Seonghwa’s eyes linger on you for a while longer when he glances over the table, and you realize he was waiting to see if you’d agree. Just like you were waiting for him to agree.

Why has Wooyoung been hiding him, something you no longer feel the need to ponder about. You’ll know. Soon enough, you’ll know - and maybe, just maybe - Park Seonghwa won’t be such a devastating mystery for much longer. Still devastating, absolutely, but not a mystery. You hope. 

You can’t help but watch with curious eyes as Hongjoong lights up his cigarette. Not necessarily watching him, but more the way the flame of his lighter lights up the dark alley right by Wooyoungs apartment building. It’s cold, and you want to go inside, but you can tell there’s something Hongjoong has to say.

So you stay. You stay with him, even when Wooyoung insists that he can just smoke off his balcony instead - Hongjoong stays outside, and so do you. He waves it off as him not wanting Wooyoungs apartment to smell of cigarettes, like the smell won't stay and linger in the fabric of his clothes and infiltrate its way through his apartment anyways.

He’s just trying to be generous. You think. Or he has something to say. You end up settling for the latter, judging by the silent gaze he had given you before the rest of the group headed inside.

So you stay, shivering as the cold night air engulfs both of you; waiting. Waiting for him to speak up.

‘’I’ve never seen him before,’’ He lets out, only after successfully lighting his cigarette and deeply inhaling the smoke. ‘’Who?’’ You ask, even though you already know exactly who he’s talking about. 

Exhaling, he looks down at his cigarette before lightly tapping it using his pointer finger. ‘’Seonghwa.’’

You were right. Not only was Park Seonghwa a complete mystery to you, but to everyone else as well. 

Hongjoong, who knew most people - and by that you literally mean most people - didn’t know him. Hongjoong, who has known Wooyoung for almost as long as you, Hongjoong, who has worked with countless models across the country, didn’t even know who Park Seonghwa was.

You hum, a hum of agreement, watching as he brought the cigarette back to his lips. ‘’You’d think we’d at least heard about him, considering the way Wooyoung looked at him,’’

The way Wooyoung had looked at him. Such few words, yet the perfect way of describing it. ‘’Or I have, I mean, I have heard of him before,’’ Hongjoong continues, exhaling through gritted teeth. ‘’He’s talked about some model friend before, Wooyoung, I mean,’’ He continues. You just watch, listens as your friend talks. 

‘’But he’s never mentioned any names, you know?’’ He mumbles, his eyes darting up to look at you, earning a small nod from you. You can’t relate, but it does make you curious. ‘’Is it bothering you?’’

‘’Bothering me how, exactly?’’

‘’That he hasn’t told you about him,’’

Hongjoong treasures Wooyoung, you know that. Hongjoong saw something in Wooyoung before most people did, something it took years for others to see - and you know Wooyoung has a lot to thank Hongjoong for. If it wasn’t for Hongjoong knowing certain people in the industry, people that would later become very important, Wooyoung probably wouldn’t be where he is today.

So Hongjoong being worried, concerned - bothered even, by the new sudden face wouldn’t surprise you.

He stays quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering down to look at the cigarette placed between his fingers. There’s thought lingering behind his features, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. ‘’No,’’ He lets out after a moment, ‘’Not necessarily.’’

You can tell he has to think about your question for a moment. And the unsureness behind his words tells you he still wasn’t sure, despite giving you a response. ‘’I think I’m just curious.’’

Now you relate. You couldn’t relate to Wooyoung mentioning his model friend, but being curious? Absolutely. Questioning, even. You hum as you pull your coat closer to your body, an attempt to shield off the cold air. 

‘’If it makes you feel any better,’’ You begin, ‘’I’ve never heard about him either. I’ve never even heard of him having a model friend.’’

There’s now shock lingering behind his features instead, his eyes darting away from the cigarette and up to you. You’re not surprised at the way he slightly raises his eyebrows, his lips parting; before they curl into a smile and he shakes his head. ‘’Damn,’’ He chuckles, taking one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground. ‘’I guess he really is special then.’’

Park Seonghwa was more than just special. You could tell, not only by the way Wooyoung acted around him - which wasn’t that different, Wooyoung always did look at his close ones with love and admiration after all - but by the way he carried himself as well.

Proud, and noble. Touching the border of almost coming across as arrogant, but not quite reaching the finish line to be considered smug.

Park Seonghwa was something else, something new; something you needed to figure out.

‘’Let’s head back inside,’’ Hongjoong mumbles, and you can tell he still has things left to say. But now isn’t the time, and he knows that. His questions would have to wait, and he knew you’d still be there to listen when the time was right.

You always found comfort in Wooyoung’s apartment. Big, spacious and luxurious. Almost like Wooyoung himself. 

The marble counter in his kitchen mirrors him perfectly, you realize. Shiny, overly expensive and it certainly brings a lot of attention. It was Hongjoong that had recommended that he got marble counters when he was renovating, and of course Wooyoung agreed - he even decided to get the same counters in his bathroom.

The apartment in itself wasn’t very comforting. As a matter of fact, it was the rather opposite. The lack of furniture and the dark color scheme wasn’t very welcoming, but Wooyoung wanted to go for the minimalistic vibe - and so he did. Very minimalistic, at that. 

But it is comforting, at least to you it is, because it’s Wooyoung’s apartment. Wooyoung, your best friend who despite living in what could only be described as a cement block with windows, managed to bring warmth to wherever he went.

His apartment, where you had spent countless of hours, was no exception.

Your fingertips glide over the marble counter, a small smile forming on your lips as you recall the arguments that it had caused. How Hongjoong insisted that he got a marble one, and when he did, he had gotten the wrong type. A type that Wooyoung wanted, a type Hongjoong hated. Not that it mattered, Wooyung was the one who was going to live with it - not Hongjoong.

It just didn’t match his artistic view, he had claimed. Not that Wooyung cared.

The chatter coming from the balcony echoed through the apartment, the chatter of the rest of the group. While everyone else found themselves enjoying the chilly night air after a few glasses of wine, you find yourself in Wooyoung’s kitchen.

You’re just about to reach for one of the bottles of wine Wooyoung had left on the counter, when the sound of someone entering the kitchen echoes through the room. You have to fight back a small smile from forming on your lips, because you can already tell who it is before your eyes even land on the figure walking through the archway.

So much for being mysterious, especially when you’re one of a kind. It gets easy, and it gets easy quickly to spot you when you stick out like a sore thumb. Park Seonghwa was no expectation, you quickly learned.

”Red or white wine?” He suddenly asks and you think how ironic it is that he’s asking. 

Both because he hadn’t uttered a single word to you ever since you arrived at Wooyoung’s apartment, sipping on a glass of red wine while listening to Wooyoung talking all night - but also because you could ask him the same thing. You already had, technically. Maybe you hadn’t asked him, but you most certainly had asked yourself.

Your eyes wander to him as he walks around the counter before they wander back to the two bottles of wine placed on the counter, one red, and one white. You let out a hum, to make it seem like you’re thinking about his question. ‘’I don’t know,’’ You reply, “What do you recommend?” 

You do know, you know your answer the second the question trails off his lips. “Red.” He’s quick to respond and he’s lying, because in the corner of your eye, you notice the way his eyes land on the bottle of white wine instead when the word slips past his lips.

The corners of your lips tug into a small smile, a smile you’re not sure he sees; and if he does see it, you’re certain he knows that you know. That you know he’s lying. ‘’Red it is then,’’ You let out as you reach to grab onto the red bottle, but not before Seonghwa has already curled his fingers around it.

‘’I do recommend red,’’ He lets out and you retract your arm, your gaze landing on him instead, ‘’But I can tell you’re more of a white wine person, so therefore, I’ll recommend white.’’

Huh. Not only does he look good, but he’s certainly good with words too. 

You let out a hum, a hum that turns into a chuckle as he carefully scoots the red bottle away from you before letting his fingers wrap around the white bottle instead. ‘’Not gonna lie,’’ You chuckle as he twists the cap open, ‘’I’m kind of impressed.’’ His eyes are focused on the bottle of wine, but you don’t miss the small chuckle that leaves his throat.

‘’It’s not hard, you know,’’ He states, his lanky fingers grabbing onto the side of the bottle once again. He looks up at you, your eyes meeting before they land on the wine glass placed on the counter next to you - nodding his head, signaling you to give him your glass.

So you do, you gently slide the glass across the marble counter. ‘’To tell what kind of wine a person likes.’’

Oh. That’s a hint, you realize. A hint that he knows you tried to decipher what kind of person he was back at the restaurant. Maybe you weren’t as discreet as you originally thought, no, scratch that. You already know you weren’t. You weren’t really trying to be, either. 

Silence falls upon the two of you as he pours the wine into your glass, a quiet hum of acknowledgment leaving your throat. ‘’How do you know Wooyoung?’’ You try to make it sound like you’re just making small talk, like you’re just trying to get to know him better. Which, in reality, you are; but it’s more just you being curious. 

‘’Me and Woo?’’ He lets out, looking up at you as he scoots the wine glass back to you. You hum once again, muttering out a small ‘thank you’ before wrapping your fingers around the now-filled glass of wine as he grabs his own glass and begins to pour the same white wine into it.

So the red wine really was for his image, white wine more to his taste now when there weren’t people around. 

A small chuckle leaves the back of his throat, ‘’We go way back, we have history together, I guess.’’

Another lie. He’s lying again, because you and Wooyoung go way back - and you’ve never heard of him before today. You don’t tell him that though, you don’t tell him you know he’s lying. There’s a small chance he isn’t lying, after all, and Wooyoung might just be more secretive than you thought. 

So you decide to test the waters. ‘’So did you, like,’’ You begin, carefully watching him as you bring your glass up to your lips. ‘’did you ever date?’’

For the first time, you notice he’s taken aback. But he’s quick to compose himself, so quick that if you hadn’t been watching him you wouldn’t even have noticed the way your question caused him to stop in his tracks. Just for a split second, but for a second, nonetheless - before he’s back to pouring the wine.

‘’No,’’ He chuckles, ‘’Nothing like that,’’ 

This time you know he’s telling the truth. You would’ve known if they ever dated, because that, Wooyoung would’ve told you. You just wanted to test him, after all. You’re about to tell him you’re sorry for assuming, taking a small sip of the wine before; but you never get the chance to. 

‘’I just don’t do one-night stands, you know.’’

Oh. You’ve been eyeing Wooyoung’s fuck buddy the entire night. That would certainly explain why you had never heard of him.

His comment almost causes you to choke on your drink, the wine threatening to spill past your lips as your eyes widen. ‘’Oh,’’ You choke out, perhaps too quickly. You’re sure he notices just how taken aback you are, using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth and putting the wine glass down in order not to spill it. ‘’I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything, I didn’t know you two, I didn’t m-’’

His chuckle interrupts your rambling and you’re kind of thankful it does. Before you can make a fool out of yourself, before you can say too much - before completely ruining all your chances of uncovering just who Park Seonghwa is. 

‘’Wait,’’ He chuckles, his eyes landing on you and your obvious state of panic. ‘’You don’t,’’ He continues and he suddenly looks almost as frightened as you, ‘’You think me and Woo hook up?’’

You just stare at him. Isn’t that what he just said? You’re almost certain that’s what he was trying to imply, between his choice of words and his need to sound almost poetic - something only Hongjoong does - you’re certain.

As you remain quiet, another chuckle rips through his chest. ‘’No,’’ He laughs, and you can’t help but find his laugh cute. Kind of. It’s also kind of terrifying, considering the situation. You’re not sure if he’s laughing because he finds your assumption funny, or if he’s offended. ‘’God, no, we never hooked up,’’ 

Perhaps it's the latter, but you hope, you really do, it's the first option. That he just finds your assumption about your best friend and his relationship funny. Nothing else. Especially not offensive. You’re not sure why it would be, yet the fear of it coming across as offensive lingers.

‘’I was talking about you and me.’’

Well, that definitely took a turn for the worse. Much worse. Perhaps you would’ve preferred him being offended, at least over whatever he was currently implying. ‘’Oh,’’ You manage to choke out and you realize you sound like you’ve just been caught committing a crime, ‘’Oh, I didn’t,’’

Fuck. You’re stuttering and even though you can’t see yourself, you know you’re flushed based on the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

‘’I’m sorry, what?’’ You try to regain your composure. You, however, aren’t too sure you succeed. You’re certain he hears the confusion lingering behind your words though.

‘’Your gazes didn’t go unnoticed, you know,’’ The words lips past his lips too easily, too easily for your liking, ‘’I’m pretty sure the whole table noticed you eye fucking me,’’

You weren’t eyefucking him. Not really, at least. Maybe you were. You probably were.

But you wouldn’t call it eyefucking, more like studying. Yeah, studying sounds way better; even though you kind of were eyefucking him.

You really were eyefucking him, weren’t you?

He’s extremely upfront, something you couldn’t have known or seen coming. And you don’t like it, you realize. Not in the slightest. 

You don’t just say that, not to someone you’ve only exchanged a few words with, and besides one mutual friend, is essentially a stranger. Not that it would stop Park Seonghwa.

Because he’s Park Seonghwa, something you’re starting to realize isn’t necessarily a good thing. 

”Hey,” He must’ve noticed you zoned out, because suddenly he’s waving his hand in front your face. Like he didn’t just tell you he’s seen right through you the whole night. “Don’t worry, it’s okay, I mean, it’s not that I won’t hook up with you,”

It’s getting worse each passing second, and you realize you have to get the conversation under control. Quickly.

 “Wait,” You let out, the word quickly slipping past your lips so he doesn’t have the chance to interrupt. He doesn’t interrupt, instead, he just slightly tilts his head. You definitely wouldn’t have anything against hooking up with him, too. “We’re not hooking up, and we were never going to either, where is all this coming from?”

You already know where it’s coming from. He looks at you for a moment, before reaching for his glass of wine. “I’m just telling you,” He shrugs, keeping his eyes on you as he brings the glass to his lips to take a sip. “I don’t do one-night stands.”

You don’t understand Park Seonghwa. And the dream, desire even, of ever understanding him crumble right in front of you the more he speaks. “Right,” You hesitatingly agree, “Good for you, but I still don’t see how or why that’s relevant to me or your relationship with Wooyoung.”

You’re trying to stir the conversation back to how he knows Wooyoung, not that it’s working. You didn’t think it would work either. You kind of don’t even want it to work. 

“It’s not,” He shrugs once again, tearing his eyes off you as they follow his hand, placing the glass of wine back onto the counter. “Just thought you should know that if we’re going to do this, it won’t be just a one time thing.”

By the end of the sentence, his eyes are back on you. 

Turns out Park Seonghwa and his devastatingly pretty face could read you like an open book. And you’re not complaining, at least not yet.

”I know,” You can hear Wooyoung groan, “It’s such a bummer Mingi couldn’t come,” It’s hard not to hear him most of the time, but especially after a few glasses of wine. “I think he’ll be back soon though, I’ll make sure he can come next time,”

You can hear the rest of the group talking, too, not just Wooyoung - even though he’s certainly the loudest one. You’d think he would’ve made sure the walls were more soundproof, something you’ve never really thought or cared about before, but is now realizing. They’re not really soundproof at all.

You should be out there, chatting and laughing with the rest of the group. You should be out there, celebrating your friend and his success. Meet his friends, his colleagues and then get dragged to the side when Wooyoung wants your opinion on someone - if he should work with them or not, like your opinion really matters. You have no idea if the people currently sitting on Wooyoung’s couch are worthy enough, but you know it’s just your opinion as a friend that matters.

A friend. A friend, who is currently tangling their fingers through Park Seonghwa’s hair. Not a friend who is out there celebrating, but a friend who snuck into one of the two bathrooms to get fucked - by someone Wooyoung had kept secret, for good reasons, too - you realize.

Soft, with a hint of roughness. That’s what you think when his lips collide with yours for the first time, and only then does it kind of make sense to you why Wooyoung had kept him a secret, because if you had gotten a taste of this earlier - a taste of him - you’re not sure you would’ve been able to let it go.

You’re not sure you can now either, now that you have gotten a taste.

All it took was one small nod from you, and he had already wrapped his hand around your wrist and led you out of the kitchen; leaving the two wine glasses on top of the marble counter. One small nod and you suddenly find yourself behind the locked bathroom door, and his lips are on yours almost immediately.

No warning, not that you think a warning would’ve helped prevent the small whine that trails off your lips when his collides with yours. His grip is gentle, even when he lets go of your wrist and grabs onto your waist instead is it still gentle. You’re not sure what to think, because this wasn’t something you had thought about - not something you thought would happen tonight.

You could kind of see it coming, though, looking back at it.

“I meant what I said,” He mumbles into the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly, “I don’t do one-night stands, really.” You just nod in response, not really paying attention to just what he was telling you. You just wanted him to kiss you.

His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s trying to decipher you the same way you had tried to decipher him the whole night. “So if you do this, with me, you know this isn’t going to be a one-time thing?”

Again, you don’t really think about it too much, brushing it off as him just trying to keep his image. Mysterious, hard to get - not like others. 

Wooyoung’s international friend. Wooyoung’s busy international friend, who wasn’t in town often.

That much you had gathered about Seonghwa, so the chances of this happening again were slim. Nonexistent, practically. 

So you nod again. You agree to his statement that somehow became a question, because you know it’s just going to be a one-time thing and Seonghwa is just trying to maintain his image. It has to be a one-time thing, because you haven’t uncovered who he really is yet - and this? It’s a crucial step.

Maybe not. On second thought, it might not be important to uncovering who he is. Uncovering what type of lover he is isn’t really going to help you decipher him. He might be completely different, you realize, most people are.

Maybe you just want to fuck him, and there’s no other excuse. You do just want to fuck him. 

He looks at you for a moment, and you think he doesn’t really believe you when you say that you know what he means. He has every right to not believe you, because you don’t even believe yourself when you nod your head to let him know you do know what he means. 

His lips are back onto yours, and you note that it's not as soft this time. It’s rough, rougher, and possibly even more delicate than the last. Your fingers slip back into his hair, pulling him closer to you - something that earns a low grunt from the man standing in front of you. You’re almost embarrassed when you feel a heat starting to spread across your abdomen, by nothing but kissing and a low grunt. A low grunt you’d like to hear again.

So you gently tug at his hair, hoping to hear it again - and you do. Another low grunt rips through his chest and his grip on your waist grows more firm before he takes a step forward, which you follow by taking one backward - your lower back suddenly colliding with the marble counter.

The very same marble counter that Wooyoung had in the kitchen, the same marble counter Wooyoung and Hongjoong argued over - the marble counter that you left your wine glass on.

The marble counter the pretty stranger now has you pressed up against. His hands slowly wander down your sides, his finger ghosting over your clothed skin and you almost let out a yelp as his fingers ghost over the inside of your thighs. 

Delicate. Everything about Seonghwa seems to be delicate, and his touch is no different. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, how his fingers would feel. The way his fingertips ran over the rim of his wine glass throughout the night left little to your imagination, after all.

He pulls away from the kiss, just to press a soft kiss onto your cheek, before leaving another one on your jaw. “One more thing,” It’s almost a whisper against your skin, his voice so low that the soft kisses left behind across your jaw almost muffle the words, “I won’t fuck you.”

And just like that, the touch is no longer delicate - it’s rough. His fingers press into the skin of your exposed thighs, forcing them apart; quicker than you can register, quicker than you can react. “What?” You choke out.

You’re confused. You’re confused, because he won’t fuck you - yet he’s forcing your thighs apart so he can slot himself in between them. And it seems like he has no plan on explaining himself, not yet, because all he does is hum in response and his fingers stay pressed against your thighs.

“But,” You begin, and you’re not sure if you’re protesting; or if you’re just confused. Probably a mix of both, because you want him to fuck you - isn’t that why he dragged you in here? To fuck you, or was his idea of a one-night stand not the same as yours?

You don’t really get to protest, though. Because even though his fingers stay pressed against your thighs in an attempt to keep them separated, they wander further up; gliding across your skin. And it isn’t until his fingers ghost by the hem of your underwear you realize what he means.

“I won’t fuck you,” He presses another kiss onto your jaw, “Not now, not yet,” Another kiss. “Are you okay with that?” 

A question he wants you to answer, an answer he practically gives to you as his fingers slowly creeps under the hem of your underwear. He isn’t going to fuck you, because he has other things he wants to do. Other things he has to do, before he fucks you.

So for the third time since you entered the bathroom, you nod. You nod because it’s the only response you can give, especially when he presses two of his fingers over your slit - not too hard, but hard enough for you to feel it. Hard enough for you to throb against his fingers, hard enough for him to feel you.

Another kiss onto your jaw, a firm one, and he runs his finger down your slit. The action almost causes a whine to leave your lips, but he’s quick to stop it from even forming in the back of your throat. “You’re also going to have to be quiet, but I don’t have to tell you that, right?”

He’s a delicate lover, with a hint of roughness. A roughness you’re not sure you’ll ever get to see, but a roughness you can feel lingering behind his touches, nonetheless - and he has a lot of rules.

No one nightstands, he won’t fuck the first time around and you have to be quiet. You’re certain there are more rules he has, rules you’ll never know about. “Yes,” You whisper out. You’ll be quiet, both because you don’t want the rest of the group to hear as you hook up with the pretty stranger but also because he tells you to.

Mainly because he tells you to. He hums against your skin and his fingers dips lower, the tips almost slipping into you as he does; but you know he won’t let it, not just yet. “Good,” He breathes and his finger runs back up your slit, “Good girl.”

You’re almost embarrassed when you throb against him once more, and you realize you’ve just unknowingly confirmed to him that you enjoyed that. Good girl. Two words that aren’t necessarily words that would normally turn you on, but when it leaves Park Seonghwa’s lips?

You don’t get to think about that, because every thought is ripped away from you the second his fingers start drawing small circles over your clit. Not fast, not hard - just soft, small circles. Circles that feels too good, even though he’s not even applying pressure. “If you don’t like something, you tell me,” He mumbles, “And if you do like something, you also tell me.”

Maybe staying quiet would be a problem, after all. “Yes,” You repeat yourself, and your fingers slip further into his hair. He keeps drawing circles over your clit, still small and soft, and you know he’s just trying to prepare you.

But you’re already prepared, and you have been. You’ve been prepared the whole night, you realize. From the second your eyes landed on him, you’ve been prepared, you didn’t know it then - but you certainly know it now. 

“Did you like that?” He mumbles, his fingers still drawing small circles over your clit. “What?” You let out, because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. “Good girl,” 

The way you grip onto his hair tighter upon hearing the words leaving his lips should be good enough for an answer, you think. But it’s not, because he wants you to tell him. “Yes, I liked that,” You breathe, and he finally applies some more pressure onto your clit. Almost like a reward, and you begin to realize just what type of lover he is.

He uses his other hand, the hand he uses to keep your legs separated, to grab onto your underwear and pull them to the side before letting his hand return to its original position. He has more space to move now that his hand is no longer restricted by your underwear, something he immediately takes advantage of.

The circles go from small and soft, to slightly quicker and he applies even more pressure. Not a lot, but enough for your eyes to flutter shut and warmth to spread throughout your body. A satisfied him escapes the back of his throat, his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck. You can feel him breathing against your skin, teeth slightly nibbling on it and you have to grab onto his hair even harder in order to not let the pleasure consume you entirely.

You don’t think fingers have ever felt so good before. And he’s just teasing you, you realize. He’s not even giving you his all, and the thought of him giving you his all makes you feel slightly dizzy. Because if this is just him teasing you, just what is he truly capable of?

“I told you to be quiet,” He suddenly lets out, ripping you away from the thoughts of him giving you his all, “Not to be in your head.”

Maybe you are thinking too much. You had already established the fact that you’re in this position because you want to, not because you need to - the need to figure him out long gone. So there’s no point in thinking, not right now, you realize. “I’m sorry,” You let out, so quietly you don’t think he even heard you. 

He did hear you, something he proves to you by slowly speeding up his actions. Something that causes a gasp to leave your lips, something that brings a small smirk onto his lips - a smirk you can’t see - but a smirk you can feel. 

“Talk to me,” He whispers against your skin and you find it hard to. You find it hard to talk to him, because you don’t know what to say and you don’t necessarily want to either. You want him to speed up, to apply more pressure, to make you come. It’s not going to be that easy, though, and you know that. “Tell me what you like, what you want me to do.”

It’s a chase, and it’s always going to be. He enjoys the chase, you realize. He wants to be chased, and he wants to chase you, too; so he doesn’t speed up, nor does he apply more pressure onto your clit. He wants you to tell him. Something you can’t give him, not right now.

And he realizes this. And he makes it easy for you, something you’re thankful for; something you know you’re probably going to regret later on. It’s one of his rules, after all, that you tell him. You’re not sure what it means to break one of his rules, but you’re certain you’ll find out.

 “Tell me,” He breathes again, his fingers not stopping, not once. “Do you want me inside, or outside?” 

He really does make it easy for you. He lays it all out for you, letting you pick rather than telling him what to do. You’re not sure if he’s doing it to make it easier for you, or for himself; but making things easier? That it does. “Inside,” You tell him, “Please.” 

You add the please at the last minute for safety measure, which seems to work; a pleased hum leaving his lips as his fingers stop rubbing circles over your clit and run down your slit instead. “You don’t like telling me what to do,” He notes as his fingers run lower, “But you’re supposed to tell me that, no?”

Right. You’re supposed to be telling him what you like and don’t like, you’re not supposed to let him figure it out on his own. It’s more fun that way, though, you think. “You prefer me taking control,” He really does read you like an open book. Or maybe it’s the arousal that slips out of you that tells him. “You’re not vocal,” He continues.

“You told me not to be,” Your voice comes out shakily and you realize it’s the most you’ve spoken since you sat foot in the bathroom. A small smile forms on his lips upon hearing your words, a smile you can feel against your neck, as his fingers tease your now sticky entrance. “And you’re kind of bratty.”

His fingers slip into you just as soon as the words leave his lips, and he’s already knuckle deep by the time a low moan leaves your lips. It’s a moan mixed together with a gasp, a sound so foul that you almost feel dirty as it leaves your lips. It’s too late to feel dirty, though, because it’s already been dirty for a long time. The whole situation became dirty the second you decided to slip into your best friend's bathroom with a stranger.

A stranger, a stranger who despite not knowing you at all, can read you like an open book. A stranger you fear you might need more of.

A satisfied hum leaves the back of his throat as his knuckles comes into contact with your sticky entrance, his fingers stilling inside of you. “And correct me if I’m wrong,” He speaks, “But I think you enjoy being fucked by a stranger while your best friend is right outside.”

The way you clench around his fingers is what gives it all away. He chuckles, and his fingers slowly begin to slip out of you. And he almost lets them, he almost lets them slip all the way out, before he parts his lips to speak again. “You do, don’t you? Your friend who you’re supposed to be celebrating,”

He slides them back in, this time a lot harder. “Your friend who just made a deal worth millions,” His thumb comes back up to rub your clit, “Your friend who probably wants you there with him, yet you’re in here,” Fuck. “Coating a stranger's fingers in your arousal?”

Park Seonghwa might be the devil, you realize. What a bittersweet way to find out, something you’ve probably known all along.

“Seonghwa,” You’re dizzy, even though he’s barely touched you. You’re dizzy and you stutter when you try to speak, mainly because his fingers are now thrusting into you at the most perfect speed. You stutter because his thumb rubs your clit just right, you stutter because his breath feels hot on your skin and you stutter because you’ve never met someone like Park Seonghwa before.

Seonghwa, however, takes your stutter as a warning. A warning that he took things too far. “Too far? Remember, talk to me,”

He sounds sincere, worried almost, he really does. And you almost believe him, and you probably would have; if it wasn’t because of his fingers still thrusting into you and his thumb still circling your clit, his pace never changing. Not even when he thinks he might’ve taken it too far.

“No,” You whimper out, “Perfect. It’s perfect,” 

It truly is perfect. The marble counter feels cold against your back, a result of your skirt riding up your body the more you separate your thighs in order to give him more access. More access to you. His fingers feel warm, lanky inside of you and his breath against your neck feels welcoming almost. Perfect. It all feels perfect, and you don’t really want it to end.

But unfortunately, it does have to end and the end is approaching faster than you would’ve liked. You’re questioning a lot of things, and you realize it’s because of him. 

You’re questioning why you’re not out with your best friend, celebrating him, you’re questioning if anyone’s even noticed the fact that both you and Seonghwa aren’t out there accompanying them; just like you’re questioning why Park Seonghwa is so good with his fingers.

So good that you can already feel the familiar knot getting ready to snap in your lower stomach, a knot that brings waves of pleasure through your body; the knot that signals that the end is approaching.

You’re not sure if Seonghwa notices the end approaching, too, but you think he might. Between broken whimpers spilling past your lips as you have rest your head against his shoulder in order not to let them slip out too loudly and you clenching around his fingers, he should notice. And you think he might slow down, because you don’t want the end to come around just yet.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t slow down, and maybe he doesn’t realize the end is, in fact, approaching. And it’s approaching fast.

So you go to tell him, or you try to, but you barely even get to utter a single breath before he’s curling his fingers deep inside of you; something that takes your breath away and brings the knot even closer to snapping. 

“Come.”

He did know, and by the time the word has slipped past his lips, it’s too late to protest.

So you do, with one last whimper leaving your lips; you come, your fingers slipping out of his hair and onto his shoulders as you do. You’re not sure just how hard you’re gripping onto him as your orgasm washes over you, but hard enough to keep yourself grounded and to prevent yourself from collapsing in his arms. 

He stills his fingers, but keeping them inside of you as his thumb continues to rub you through your orgasm. The hand he had just used to keep your legs separated leaves your thigh, and in the midst of coming down from your orgasm you feel him slip his fingers into your hair. He leans closer to you, pressing a small kiss onto your temple, a kiss that feels almost too intimate - like he hasn’t just made you cum. 

He presses his lips onto your temple a couple of more times, and it isn’t until a shaky breath leaves your throat that he stops moving his thumb as well. His fingers stay in your hair, using his thumb to gently stroke your scalp. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize. And it’s most definitely working.

Because you find yourself melting into his touch, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you try catching your breath. You’re not sure if you’ve ever experienced an orgasm that intense before, and certainly not that quick, either. 

What you are sure about, however, is that you might’ve just made the worst mistake in your entire life. Because now you’re not sure how you’re ever supposed to move on, move on from Park Seonghwa and his fingers.

You stay like that for a while, with his thumb gently caressing your hair and his lips pressed against your temple - still desperately trying to catch your breath. It isn’t until he slowly begins to slip his fingers out of you that you realize they were, in fact, still buried inside of you.

It feels empty, as he pulls them out. You almost want him to thrust them back in, and a part of you expects him to do just that. He doesn’t, he doesn’t thrust them back in like you expected - and you realize that’s all he had planned. No second orgasm, not nothing - just a taste. 

A taste of Park Seonghwa.

While his hand gently tugs your now soaked underwear back in place, his other hand slips out of your hair and comes down your face before cupping your jaw. You slowly raise your head, and you almost start feeling dizzy once again when your eyes meet his.  “You okay?” 

He sounds sincere. This time, he really does sound sincere - his words not laced with the same playfulness as earlier and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod in response. His eyes flicker over your face, searching for any type of sign that you’re not okay. He can’t find any, because you are okay. You’re more than okay.

“Are you,” You’re the first one to speak up, “are you okay?” 

Your question brings a smile onto his lips, a confused smile, but still a smile. “Me?” He asks, slightly tilting his head, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

His hand stays cupping your jaw as you shake your head into his embrace. “No, I mean,” You begin, and you suddenly find it hard to speak about the situation that had just happened. “You don’t want me to, you know,”

It’s not just hard, but embarrassing. You’re not sure why it’s embarrassing, but it is - and the unsureness behind your words causes his smile to widen. “Oh, no,” He lets out, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, “Don’t worry about me, this is what I wanted.”

He’s most definitely a delicate lover, and a thoughtful one. This was for your pleasure, not his - even though you’re certain he found it almost just as pleasurable as you. “Are you sure? I can help you out, if you want to,” You still ask, to make sure, to make sure you’re not missing anything. You look for any hidden messages behind his words, to see if he’s just testing you - but there isn’t any.

Instead, his smile is warm as he shakes his head. “I told you,” He says, “This is what I wanted.”

You leave it at that. You nod, and he begins to loosen his grip on you; something you realize you don’t particularly want to happen. You don’t really don’t want to leave his warm embrace, but you know you have to, and a part of you almost aches when you realize it’s probably the last time you’ll get to be in his embrace.

Because Park Seonghwa is a stranger, a devastatingly pretty one, but he’s still a stranger - something he’ll remain as.

“I want you to come to my show.”

Or maybe not. 

You hadn’t fully realized that he had let you go until the words slip past his lips and your arms fall down your side once again, leaving his shoulders as he moves to look at himself in the mirror. Your eyes follow him, watching as he leans over the counter to get a better view of himself. ‘’Your show?’’

His hair still falls perfectly over his forehead, and the urge to run your fingers through his hair still remains; and even though it would probably be more acceptable to do so now, you refrain. He just hums in response, his fingertips brushing over his bangs to smooth them down. Not that he necessarily needs to, they do still hover just perfectly above his eyes, after all.

‘’I’ll be in town for a while,’’ He mumbles, his hands coming down to fix the collar of his shirt, ‘’I have a show next weekend, I want you there.’’

Unbothered, casual even. That’s what he sounds like when he tells you he’ll be in town for a while, and when he unknowingly confirms that maybe - just maybe - Park Seonghwa won’t be a stranger for much longer.

‘’Oh,’’ You mumble, the small of your back still leaning against the marble counter. The same marble counter he had just a few moments prior been fingering you against. ‘’I’ll have to check, if I have the time, I mean,’’ 

Your mind flickers back to the events that had just unfolded and once again, you realize it’s a chase. A chase he’s enjoying, and probably the reason why you’re even with him right now. Because it’s a chase, and he likes to be chased. And he wants to be the one chasing, too.

You know for a fact you’re free the following weekend, but it’s a chase - so you lie.

A small smile forms on his lips, even though he’s still looking in the mirror. You’re not sure what kind of smile it is, if it’s a smile in agreement, or if he’s smiling because he’s already caught onto your small lie. If the latter, he doesn’t say anything.

You don’t need to explain yourself once you quietly slink back into the group. They already know, and they don’t care. If Seonghwa’s words hold any truth, they had already caught onto the lingering gazes you had given him all night. They all probably saw this coming, you realize, everyone but you.

Especially Wooyoung, who sits in one of his armchairs with a glass of wine in one of his hands, a glass he raises into the air once you enter the room once again; toasting. Toasting to the new, devastatingly pretty face.

it fucking sucks that getting impaled """kills you""" they should at least give you one freebie. i would look soooo sexy and boyish getting martyred on the spear

You know, hopefully.

yesterday i was insane about that fictional man. today i am insane about that fictional man. tomorrow? take a wild guess brother

Tony Stark and Stephen Strange went from 'awesome facial hair bros' to 'awesome facial hair hoes' in 0.2 seconds.

Don’t deny it.

Clint: Nat, take a look at Tony’s coasters.

Nat: What? ok... oh my god! Follow us on Tweeters! Awwww, follow us on tweeters! *Hugs coaster to her chest*

Tony: I know, I know, ok?

Steve: Don’t worry, Tony, I’m sure you’ll get lots of disciples.

deadpool and wolverine really got knee deep in the passenger's seat of that hyundai civic, huh

This is how enderwalk Ranboo truly thinks, and no one can tell me otherwise

enderwalk ranboo: dream listen, supplying you with weaponry is fine, in fact it boosts my Dating Power, but obviously killing or hurting someone gives me LOVE and that turns my 100% pacifist run into a neutral run and that means i can’t get the True Ending 

dream: what the fuck are you saying

October has started its time to obsess over behind the mask the rise of Leslie Vernon again🗣🗣🗣

If Remor was a human, he’d be that kind of person who never got out of his edgy emo phase during puberty, still lives with his parents mother at the age of 35 and steals milk

where are my fellow hysterical women who would have either been a) an oracle in ancient greece or b) burned at the stake in medieval times…..make some noise ladies