#In my defense it was slightly less stupid than it sounds

[eddis-not-eeddis]

I had a major blond moment the other day. My coworker and I were talking about what we were going to do after we got off shift and I handed him my shopping list. He looked down at it and went “what the heck is this?” and it took me a moment to clock that the list I’d handed him was written in Korean, and your average American can’t read Hangul.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible. 

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 16

WC: 756 , Masterpost CW: We loop to the start and that entails The attacks start in northern Africa. It jumps from Algeria to Egypt, across the sea to Saudi Arabia to Turkey and into Europe. By the time it hits Metropolis, resources are already stretched thin. Danny is calling in every contact, every possible help, while he follows the worst of it himself, constantly organizing the next area of triage.

As he’s attempting to wrap the tourniquet around Barry’s leg, blood slicked hands failing him, it hits Danny like one of Superman’s punches.

They are going to lose.

Barry reaches out and grips a weak hand around Danny’s wrist. “Kid?”

It’s still a stupid nickname, but through all these years Barry still used it. Through the years of dinners and disasters and Danny being welcomed into Barry’s family at Wally’s side.

And now all these wonderful, heroic, brave people that Danny had come to be friends with are going to die. The monologue happening in the middle of the street made that much clear. No hero would be spared; any chance of a future uprising would be snuffed out this very day.

Because they are going to lose.

Danny smiles softly at Barry and pries his hand away.

“Kid, whatever you’re thinking—” Barry could have no idea what Danny is thinking. No one can.

No one can, because no one knows what Danny can do.

He leaves his bag by Barry. Most of the supplies have been used up, but maybe there is still something in it that will help people.

He just wants to help people.

The monologue cuts off as Danny approaches, feet sliding on the loose concrete around the edge of the crater that the imposing figure stands in. He manages not to fall, though, and strides past Superman with his head held high. He will not cower in front of death. He faced death once before and even though this time means becoming nothing, he will not cower as he faces it again.

He has to look up to meet the being’s eyes. There’s only cruelty there. The mouth twists in a cold smirk. “Has it come to this? That they send their healer to face me?”

“No.” Danny could hear Barry shouting his name. “They didn’t send me, I came by myself.”

The laugh raises the hair on the back of Danny’s neck, but he doesn't move away.

“Pathetic! You presume yourself to be the last line of defense? You, a mere medic? You are no hero and yet you dare to stand before me? Do you not think that I could break you with a single fist?”

Danny smiles softly, and raises his hand. The man doesn’t even move, so utterly sure that Danny poses him no threat. Danny rests his hand on the man’s chest. He has to reach up to do so.

The smirk turns into a sneer. “Or do you intend to appeal to some ideal of compassion? To try and change my heart? To ask me to spare your heroes?”

Superman is screaming at him now as he struggles to stand. Danny hears him fall again.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the man who would try to rule them all with nothing but death in his wake.

“No,” Danny says, tilting his head just slightly. His eyes scan over the hardened face again. “No, I don’t think I can do that. You’ve made a mockery of death for so long that your heart is hardened. It’s a good thing I don’t need it soft.”

Intangibility is as comfortingly familiar as it is horrifying to feel again. Danny shudders as it washes over him. His hand sinks, sickeningly, through armor and skin and bone to wrap around that hardened, beating heart.

It thuds once in his grip.

Danny yanks his hand back.

Danny pulls that heart from its chest.

The man gasps— the sound a pale imitation of a breath— and then he falls.

Like he was nothing.

Less than nothing.

A man that will only be remembered with hatred.

The massive heart slips from Danny’s limp fingers. It hits the ground with a wet squelch.

Danny wavers, eyes turning up to the sky where hundreds of clones are falling like horrifying intimidations of shooting stars. A soft smile spreads over his face.

He had done it.

Will people remember him?

It isn’t why he did it.

He just wants to help people.

Wanted to.

Was someone calling his name?

There had only been one chance. It was all he needed.

They would be safe now.

Everyone would be safe.

Humanity, Barry, Iris, the Titans…

Wally…

“Danny!”

---

AN: And here we are, back in present tense (thank you @mokulule for correcting all my slips back to past tense my migrained brain didn't catch.

I would say Danny used his one moment well, wouldn't you?

But this isn't quite the end. Now that we're back in the present... I think it's about time we saw somethings from Wally's POV, don't you?

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

[idiotgojo]

chat can we please have a toji x reader and they’re childhood friends?

hope you enjoy anon!

warning; mutual pining, drunk toji, bar scene, nothing much really just fluff

The night air felt heavy as you stormed into the dimly lit bar, your eyes searching frantically for one person: Toji Fushiguro. After days of worry, combing through every place he might've been, you finally spotted him—sitting casually at the bar, drink in hand, looking like nothing had happened. You were glad to see him alive but furious was an understatement.

You marched over ready to give him an earful,

"Toji!" you shouted his name, loud enough to bring the entire bar to a standstill, but he barely reacted. As if used to your antics, as if this hadn't almost become a routine for the both of you for 20-plus years.

"Oh... heyyy?" he said deeply relaxed and nonchalant "totally did not expect you to be here"

You could feel your eye twitch with rage. how dare he? How could he act like he didn't disappear for days longer than the last time?

"Are you kidding me?!" you shouted, your voice shaking angrily. "I've been looking for you for days! You just sit here like nothing happened?!"

Toji blinked slowly, then took another sip of his drink, completely unfazed by your outburst. "I was fine."

"I thought you were dead" You crossed your arms.

"takes more than a mission to take me out" he chuckled.

Slamming your hand on the bar counter, you made several nearby glasses rattle, drawing even more attention from the others.

Toji leaned back in his chair, watching you with a bemused look, clearly enjoying how worked up you were. "You worry too much," he said with a shrug.

You've had enough for the night and so has he honestly. You grab his arm and roughly yank him up from the barstool. He chuckled softly, letting you drag him out of the bar, too entertained by your reaction to protest.

You stormed down the street still angry while Toji towed behind a little slower, stumbling from all those drinks catching up to him. He was clearly drunk, but still managing to keep his usual confident swagger.

"I don't know why you're always so mad at me," he said, a teasing slur to his voice. "It's kinda cute, though." you didn't bother to reply, simply shooting him a glare.

-

When you finally reached your apartment, you all but shoved him inside. Toji leaned against the wall, his eyes heavy-lidded as he gave you a lazy grin. "You always take care of me," he mumbled, sounding almost fond. "I don't deserve you."

You took off your shoes, making your way to the kitchen to get him some water. He takes small, slow steps towards you. His drunken gaze lingered on you for a moment before he spoke, his voice softer now. "You should be my girlfriend."

The words hung in the air, catching you completely off guard. You stared at him, your hand frozen in mid-air as you reached for the water bottle you had set on the table for him. "What?" you asked, certain you had misheard him.

"be my girlfriend," Toji repeated, his grin widening just slightly.

"you're drunk. Don't say stupid things"

But he didn’t let it go. "I'm serious," he said, his voice still slurring slightly. "You're always there… yelling at me, taking care of m— you care about me, right?"

"you're reckless and do dangerous things god knows why," you say trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah… but you still care." silence falls between the both of you. You just stare at each other not daring to make the first move.

"I like it... When you yell at me… it means you care."

His drunken gaze might've been hazy, but there was a sincerity in his tone that you couldn't ignore. Even if he was drunk, even if he was saying it in the middle of one of his reckless moments, it felt real.

"Are you even going to remember this in the morning?" your voice softer now, less defensive.

He chuckled again, leaning against the wall with no other choice of support. "Dunno," he muttered, "but you better remind me, just in case." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. Toji was impossible.

"We should go to bed, you can barely stand anymore"

"We should be making out right now" "—No! We should not!" thank god the lights were low so he couldn't see the blush creeping up your cheeks.

You ushered him to his bed and he followed without protest, looking at you through a lover's lense.

There was a smile on your face as you helped him to bed, tucking him in. He grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so drunk. "Night girlfrienddd,,,,," he slurred sleepily excited.

"Goodnight loser"

disclaimer; I'm not even a real writer. I just write for fun, a place to collect and keep the scenarios I create in my head before I go to bed lol. This is my first written piece! Enjoy :)

© idiotgojo 2024 do not steal or translate. if you wish to use the idea and create a better fic please tag me :)

[nekropsii]

hello! sorry if this is a stupid question, but i recall seeing someone claim that aranea was pedophilic/predatory towards jake— is that true? if not, do you know where that idea may have come from?

Hi, Anon! Considering the question is prompted by the claims of another, and this claim has an extreme amount of gravity attached to it, this is not a stupid question whatsoever. I appreciate that you're trying to fact check this, rather than just spreading that idea with zero regard. A lot of people online tend to get really caught up in the immediate emotional response that an Accusation of Sexual Misconduct gives them, and fail to do their due diligence. I can't fault anyone for feeling distressed upon hearing that anyone is a Pedophile or a Sexual Predator, but it's irresponsible and disrespectful to not... Y'know, check the evidence, if there's even any there.

I'm going to put this all under a cut due to the subject matter. You understand, I hope!

Content Warning: Discussion of Pedophilia, Assault, and Dubious Consent.

Let's get this out of the way right off the bat: No, Aranea is not a Pedophile, and I do not believe she has ever sexually or romantically predated on Jake.

I am not saying this to blame who is being understandably perceived as the victim of the situation. Jake is, by all accounts, the target of a lot of Non-Consenting and Dubiously Consenting advances… So it makes a lot of sense to immediately be on the offensive with regards to anyone's conduct towards Jake. I get it. Jake is living in the tragedy of being seen as an object by his peers- some kind of prize to be won, something that exists only to provide some kind of romantic or sexual catharsis. It's horrible, genuinely, and I totally understand the urge to instantly jump on anything that veers even slightly in that direction and take it to extremes…

…But that just… Did not happen with Aranea. Because Jake was not the target of attraction here. Aranea was. Aranea never pursued Jake, to my knowledge, save for one single scene. Put a pin in that. She was not interested in him, he was interested in her. He labelled Aranea as his Dream Girl very quickly after meeting her, and at no point does she... Reciprocate his feelings.

The immediate counterpoint to that is that Pedophiles do not love their victims. And I would typically completely agree with it!! This is true!! Bringing up anything akin to "True Love" in defense of an act of Child Predation is absolutely disgusting!!

...But Aranea is not a Pedophile. In no universe would Aranea ever be considered a Pedophile, even if she had feelings for and sexually pursued Jake. She wouldn't be a Pedophile even if she straight up assaulted him on screen. She is 19 years old, and he is 16 years old. That does not even come close to counting as Pedophilia. Their ages are way too close for that. If Jake was 13 years old or younger, and she was attracted to him, then yes, this would be an entirely valid point to make. That practically wouldn't even be an accusation, that would be an observation. It would be extremely fucked up if that was the case, as it is with Cronus and Meenah, but that's just... Not true here.

But then there's the claim of Predation left, which is an entirely ageless concept. There's no implication of an immoral age discrepancy in the label of "Predator".

...But Aranea never sexually predated on Jake. She just plain was not interested in him, not even as a friend. Jake was more or less just a tool to her, a mere cog in the machine of her plan to Fuck Shit Up. Is that fucked up? Sure!! But that's average Villain Behavior, and it's not inherently Predatory. Especially not in the way that's implied when paired with a Pedophilia Accusation.

Remember that scene I said to put a pin in, though? The one where she actually does make an unwanted advance on Jake? We're bringing it up again now. That, conceptually, sounds like a counterpoint to what I'm saying here at first, but just bear with me. There's a scene in which, just prior to her making Jake Hope-splode, Aranea tries to kiss him. This was actually how she was initially going to "heal" him. The advance was made, and right before she actually did kiss him, he started flailing and wildly professing how much he does not consent to the situation.

[Homestuck, page 6582.]

It's clear from what he's saying and how he's behaving that the severity of this reaction has been building up over the course of his story. Even if that wasn't the case, his lack of consent is fair...

...And goes completely uncontested.

[Homestuck, page 6582.]

This is the problem. This is the biggest issue I have with the claim that she was predating upon Jake. Not as a child, but as a person. I have to assume that it was about this scene- there's no other place in the story in which you could make that claim and have it be any level of grounded. But taking a moment to read the text makes the entire argument that this was an act of Sexual Predation completely fall apart, because his lack of consent to being kissed goes instantly respected and totally unchallenged.

She drops him... And says this.

[Homestuck, page 6583.]

This... Is not Pedophilia. This is not Sexual Predation. This is two teenagers experiencing a messy situation.

Aranea knew Jake was into her, and assumed that that meant he would've enjoyed her making a move on him. It is, by all means, a valid assumption to make- it's understandable. It's a completely average train of thought. Jake, however, is tired of people making moves on him, and despite being attracted to her, did not accept this advance.

...To which she immediately accepts "No" as an answer, ceases physical contact, apologizes, explains herself, and then says that her advances were inappropriate, and that she will try to be better in the future.

This is... A fantastic response to someone expressing a lack of consent. Especially considering she's Beforan! By all accounts, she's the most normal person out of that whole group because of this!!

The only thing that puts a damper on this is that she immediately turns around and heals him. But... That's not an inherently sexual act. Yes, he did not give express verbal consent to being healed, but it's also just straight up not something you can quantify as Sexual Predation. It's not even a metaphor for it!

I don't know. Calling her a Pedophile is abhorrent. It is way too far and entirely inaccurate. Calling her a Sexual Predator is less egregious, but the bar for what's okay is being used in a limbo competition in Hell.

To me, this is just an instance of messy teenage sexuality. It's just... A misunderstanding that was immediately resolved, and then followed up by some Video Game Villain behavior. If their age gap in the context of any romantic advances makes you uncomfortable, that's completely and utterly fine. More than okay. It's a perfectly respectable boundary to have. But that boundary doesn't mean that it's fine to randomly stick a label as loaded and utterly despicable as "Pedophile" onto anything. A misunderstanding left unescalated isn't a crime, and Video Game Villain Behavior isn't sexually predatory.

I hope this response finds you well. Have a lovely day.

[vro0m]

2015 season summary

FINALLY! Sorry this took so long, but as you know I was drowning in classes and thesis writing. Now that it’s done let’s get back to it, starting with the 2015 season summary.

Winning his second title really put Lewis at ease at Mercedes. He’s relaxed, he’s comfortable, he’s confident. He turned 30 during the break. His relationship with Nicole finally ended for good. He talks about growing up, enjoying every day. He’s doing even more beside racing than before (and yes, it starts discourse again). In particular in the first half of the season there’s also a recurrent theme of him wanting to be a team leader (but maybe he also means first driver, he is out of a contract at the end of the year after all).

Lewis is maturing for sure, but he’s not fully grown yet. There’s no big drama during the year, though. Nico is unhappy with Lewis in China and then there’s a couple of arguably aggressive starts in Japan and in the USA. Things are pretty chill overall. Mercedes is dominating (except for that horrible mistake in Monaco and the struggle in Singapore) although Ferrari comes through here and there. And in the team, Lewis is on top. Easily. 11 poles, 10 wins.

But 2015 might just be the eye of the storm between two spicy seasons. Nico is on pole for the last 6 races, and although he’s only able to convert them into wins once Lewis has won his third title, the shift is palpable. As soon as he feels it, Lewis' attitude changes as well. He’s less positive, more defensive. As I was saying he’s not there yet. Maybe he just can’t be wise in the face of Nico. Maybe these two just bring the worst out of each other and that’s all there can be. (After all Nico also showed he can’t take the high road either with cap gate.) At the end of the year, Lewis shields himself from the questions with his third title (“I think being world champion sounds a lot better than winning the race.”), but that won’t work anymore once the next season starts 👀

Other important events of 2015 are the RBR - Renault engine issue, and also Max’s F1 debuts. Everybody is already adamant he’ll win a championship someday and indeed, he is very impressive.

Now let’s see if the storm indeed resumed in 2016 (but yes. yes it did. we all know it did.)

Let’s talk numbers : so far, I’ve completed 52.5% of my rewatch. In total, I’ve made 1,558 GIFs to illustrate it.

Here’s a list of the 2015 GPs with a quick summary and the link to the actual recap if you wanna read it or take a look at the GIFs I made :

1. Australian GP : 2015 season context. First season at Ferrari for Seb and Alonso went back to McLaren. Also Max’s first season. Loads of messy stuff happening in the pre-season / first GP weekend. Lewis interview. Lewis pole. Lewis win. Extremely boring race. Seb making fun of Nico.

2. Malaysian GP : Race n°150! Wet quali + controversy. Lewis pole. Natural vs. analytical driver rant. Lewis P2. (Bonus : “good boy, good boy” - the famous sewis podium moment - pegging Hamilton)

3. Chinese GP : Lewis pole again. Eventful race. Lewis win. Brocedes drama. (Bonus : Lewis and Nico’s postrace interviews)

4. Bahrain GP : Lewis pole. Nico interview. Lewis win. Stressful ending. Baseball celebration. (Bonus I found later on : joint Sewis interview)

5. Spanish GP : There’s a whole “Lewis is too distracted” thing again ugh. Bad race start. Bad pit stop. Moody Lewis. Several pit stop dramas. Lewis P2, his 75th podium.

6. Monaco GP : Lewis pole. Hill has to swallow his words about him being too distracted. Great Lewis x Thierry Henry segment. Big crash then terrible strategy decision. P3.

7. Canadian GP : Lewis pole. Boring first half then slightly less. Lewis win. Bono lost his dad.

8. Austrian GP : Lewis pole. Bad start. A terrible scary crash. Some stupid mistake. P2.

9. British GP : Lewis pole (yes, still). Lewis drifting with Johnny segment. Horrible start but good race. Lewis win. He is absolutely buzzing.

10. Hungarian GP : Lewis pole. Minute of silence for Jules. Terrible start. Suspenseful but bad race. Lewis P6. (Bonus : “you’re very quiet Bono”)

11. Belgian GP : Lewis pole, for a change. Lewis win. The crowd chanting his name. Talking about retirement. Finally admits he might win the title again.

12. Italian GP : Bleached blond Lewis! And guess what? On pole. Lewis interview. Rowing competition. Weird, weird end. Lewis win. Nice cooldown room / podium.

13. Singapore GP : Lewis surprisingly not on pole! Mercedes is struggling. DNF. Also someone is walking on the track? (Bonus : Seb being a flirt)

14. Japanese GP : Nico pole + interview. Aggressive start. Alonso’s “GP2 engine!” Kinda boring race. Lewis win. Matches Senna’s record. Nice sewis podium.

15. Russian GP : Nico pole. Briatore talking about Lewis. Crash start. Another bad crash. Lewis is a good man. Lewins win. Gayest sewis scene I’ve seen so far. Ferraris getting strong. It finally truly dawns on him he might win a title again. Controversial WCC decider. 

16. US GP (part 1 - part 2 - part 3) : Wet quali, Nico pole. Starting on inters. Aggressive start again. Loads of issues. Good race! WDC decider! Famous cap controversy. Nice Niki interview and hug. “Hopefully he’s proud.”

17. Mexican GP : Nico pole again. Rock star racing driver. Mansell x Lewis interview. Lewis not happy with decisions. Lewis P2.

18. Brazilian GP : Nico pole. Alonso meme weekend. Nico interview, some stuff about their rivalry. Boring af. Lewis P2. Different strategy discourse.

19. Abu Dhabi GP : And another Nico pole. Lewis interview. Max interview. Max VS. Lewis debut rant. Slight engine modes controversy. Lewis P2. Lovely podium moment with the Merc rep. Weird press conference. Weird Lewis fancam.

[fleursbending]

── 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 !

⤷ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 : (1). prompts will always be open for requests, however at the time this is being posted - i am prioritising the current ones i already have. so pls be mindful and patient! (2). maximum of prompts that can be included in a request is three. (3). pls include your desired genres in the request, three is the max as well for this. (4). make sure you include the character you want me to write for, you can request multiple if you want it to be like hcs. (5). read my rules before requesting anything, they apply to prompts too. (6). i am allowed to decline your request if it somehow makes me uncomfortable! (7). you can request for "junie's pandora". all you have to do is specify what character you want and either provide the following - prompts or genres. not both. the rest will be up to me, and it will be a surprise for you - genres or prompts, once i post it! (8). if you have any questions at all regarding anything in this post, please leave them in my inbox!

I’ve been falling in love with you since the day we met."

"Not a day goes by where I don't think of you."

"You really think I won't choose you in a heartbeat?"

"Would you acknowledge my feelings for you if I kissed you right now? You can't seem to take a damn hint, Y/n."

"If I'm causing you so much trouble, why won't you kill me?"

"Be brave for me, love."

"Can I cross your boundaries just for the night?"

“You’re a dumbass and I can’t believe I’m related to you.”

“So what? you’re still my [name], idiot. I don’t care about what they say!”

“You are a menace and you almost died back there if it wasn’t for me.”

“This—” [points at their chest] “—this belongs to you. always.”

"How long have you been hiding this?"

"You moron... Why are you so careless!?"

"I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this!"

"Never do that again. Please."

"...Who did this to you?" || "Let it go (Name), it doesn't matter-" || "Yes, it does. Who did this to you?"

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“Let me do this, please.”

"You were put on this earth to give me a headache!"

"What? I have never-"

"In my defense, I really wanted to."

"I don't hate you."

“Did I stutter?”

“This sounds like you’re flirting with me.”

“H-How long have you been standing there?”

“There is no way this much stupid can fit inside one person.”

“Could he make you feel as good as I do?”

"This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you.”

“Just to clarify: me holding your hand doesn’t, like, mean anything, by the way. Not in that way, at least. Unless you want it to mean something. I don’t mind. That’s cool.”

"You're an idiot."

“Don’t cover your face, I want to see you”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that!”

“I don’t know what to do.” || “Then let me teach you.”

“If you interrupt me one more time— so help me God.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“We were friends! why did that have to change?”

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

"It feels like torture, but I don't want it to stop."

"I may have gone and done something slightly insane."

"If you lay a goddamn hand on them, I promise you'll regret it."

"I'll give you whatever you want, just- just stop!"

“Everything I’ve ever known has led up to you.”

"Just take my hand and relax, nothing bad is gonna happen."

"You taught me that love doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger."

"Seeing you here felt a lot more like coming home than when I actually got here."

"Your strength isn't yours alone."

"You don’t have to talk about it, just let me make the pain go away."

"You know..that almost made me reconsider whether i hate you or not" "Oh really? What’s the verdict" "Hmm..nope not even a little less" "Not even a little? Let’s see if we can change that".

"Oh no, there's two of them."

"So, if we didn’t absolutely hate each other, do you think this *gestures at both of them* could be a thing?" "Hm. No. You’re not my type" "Oh please I am the definition of your type" "You mean funny cute smart and adorable isn’t your type??"

"It'll work out...right?"

"Please say something... anything. Even if it’s telling me to shut up and leave you alone... just say something."

"I’m here. you got that? I don’t care if you never say anything to me ever again. I don’t care. I’m not going away, and I’m not going to stop being here for you, no matter how long you glare at me or ignore me or pretend that you’re okay. because I know you’re not. I know."

“You’re so excited all the time… it’s kind of adorable.”

“I’m sorry that it had to come to this.”

"I don't know what to do."

"Only one of us can make it."

"Do you trust me?"

“I’m not jealous, I’m being absolutely reasonable.”

"Did you just seriously insinuate I would do something like that to you?"

"You owe me nothing."

"Let’s just call this what it is… just really close talking."

 "I didn’t ask for this… to feel this way."

“Please, don’t cry.”

“Do you– can I– do you want to be held?”

“…Who do I need to punch?”

“You’re allowed to be weak, you know.”

“I– please, help.”

“Why can’t you understand? You’re too good for me!”

“I can’t do this. I can’t– I can’t– I can’t–”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Look since the events of last night I can safely say that I have discovered multiple new techniques to shut you up, and I am not afraid to use them.”

“Should we like. talk about it?” “Aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelywhathahaha- “ "Oh really? let me see if I can jog your memory.”

“When was I meant to find out? When it was too late!?”

“I’m better than you could ever dream of being!”

“Like I’d choose to waste my time around you!”

“Shh, don’t be afraid. It’s me. You’re safe.”

“You deserve to be taken care of. ”

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?"

"You’re so stupid it kinda turns me on."

"How could I ever forgive you?"

"Please, I would rather swallow shards of glass than ever date you."

"Being physically attracted to you doesn’t mean I’m in love with you."

"You’re over me? When.. when were you under me?"

"You’re so in denial, even you don’t know how you really feel."

"I only said all those things because I felt sorry for you."

"Do you really hate me that much?"

"You’ve been avoiding me and I don’t know why."

"I thought you knew!"

"I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do."

"I wish I never met you."

"I should have never kissed you."

“You’re so cute.” “What did you just say?” “I said you look like a boot.”

“We should compare hands, you know. science.” “What?” “What? It’s not like we haven’t done anything worse.”

“Yeah, okay, so what if i dreamt about kissing you? Don’t we all do that to our best friends? …No? What do you mean no?”

“I feel strange when you’re around.” “Do you have a fever or something?”

“I can’t get you out of my head.” “…Thanks?”

“You’re cute.” “What?” “I said you look like a fruit.” “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute otherwise you would be six feet under right now.” “You think I'm cute.”

“Do you actually hate me I know we’ve had our differences and stuff but like-“ “Y/n. I’ve never actually hated you”

“I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For loving you.”

“Prove it.”

“Stop doing this to me!” “Huh? I’m not doing anything?!” “Stop lying! You’re making me all fuzzy inside!”

“not so feisty now are we?” “Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re so cute when you’re not trying to sabotage me”

“We aren’t blood-related but you’re the most important family member of mine, you know that right?”

“Can you just please listen to me! Just this once. Please.”

“We won’t grow old together will we?” “No, but we made memories that’ll outlive even us.”

“Repeat that one more time.”

“Try that again, I dare you.”

“I trusted you.” “Did you really think I’d just forgive you?”

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Are you pleased with yourself?”

“I promise you that if you hurt them, I will return the favor tenfold.”

“Speak. Now.”

“Did you touch them?”

“You hurt them.”

NSFW PROMPTS ↷

you can req anything from the following: ☆. ☆. ☆. ☆. ☆. ☆.

please make sure to include the exact dialogue prompt (copy and pasted) for the nsfw ones so i know exactly which one they are!

thank you and all the credit to the following creators : @casualwriter @clovenly @urfriendlywriter @dumplingsjinson @promptplanetblr @mangocherri @writinginstardust @a-crumb-of-whump @honey-writes @mswritingthings @userprompt @jasminesfury @soulmemes @rosewritingprompts @hyprmemes @incdntlprompts @promptful @just-plenty-of-prompts @letsmakeitwrite @ogdoadfates🎀🎀

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

[purefandomonium]

Part 6: Blissful Ignorance

But wait, there's more!

Or in other words, this project is still ongoing. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year (because I probably won't be posting anything again until sometime after) and hope you enjoy!

RED: So what exactly is the point of all this?

“It’s just a stupid dance. They do it every year for the freshmen but the whole school can go.”

RED: You’re not.

She stopped cleaning the mess that was her room for a moment. She could use a break anyway. It was getting kind of troublesome having to stop every few seconds to read what Red was saying. Not to mention having one arm perpetually tied up with holding the GameBoy to do so. She’d taped the mic to it while she figured out something less bulky.

She fell onto her desk chair with a thump, sliding it back and bumping into the desk. An old keyboard and a couple pens fell to the floor with a clatter.

RED: What was that?

“Sat down too violently,” she said, absently wondering when he’d started hearing the background.

RED: Oh.

RED: So why aren’t you going?

“Why do you care so much? It’s not like it affects you.”

Red was unfazed by the curt reply.

RED: It’s just a bit strange to me that you don’t want to.

RED: My company can’t be that interesting.

“Trust me, it’s not,” she said with a smirk. “I’m just not into dances.”

Red considered that. Leann didn’t seem to be ‘into’ anything, if every previous conversation about her social life was anything to go by. She told him all about her little projects and hobbies, but all of them seemed devoid of anyone other than herself. The girl was clearly a loner and yet…

She didn’t sound very satisfied about that.

RED: Don’t you have friends?

His concept of time was still a bit iffy; being trapped for decades in digital hell did that to a person—or whatever he could call himself. However, he was fully aware of the amount of time he’d spent with Leann thus far and, unless she was lying to him and his sanity had degraded worse than he thought, she never seemed to hang out with anyone outside of school. It appeared she woke up, got ready, left, then came right home once the day was over. It was like clockwork. She picked up the GameBoy at almost the same time every. Single. Day.

He may have lost his mind in that damn cartridge, but he wasn’t stupid.

The hesitation in her voice only drove the point home further.

“I have friends,” she said, tone defensive.

RED: Doesn’t sound like it to me.

RED: Don’t take it the wrong way.

RED: I’m just worried.

Red? Worried? For her, no less? The thought was both slightly amusing and more than a little unusual. “What are you worried for? I just don’t really like anyone.”

RED: Out of an entire school of students, there isn’t a single one you get along with?

“What happened to all that mistrust you had a month ago?” She was starting to get a little weirded out by his prying. The more time she spent with him, the more human he seemed. She often found herself lying awake at night, staring at the lit GameBoy on the desk and wondering how something so complex could exist within it. Red wasn’t programming. Couldn’t have been. Which didn’t leave a whole lot of options. Either he was the soul of some dead kid trapped in there, or he was some sort of demonic entity. Neither were things she should really be messing with, if she was being honest. Still…

She did enjoy the company.

Red didn’t respond immediately, opting instead to contemplate. What had happened to that mistrust? At some point in time he couldn’t remember, he just… started trusting her. He tried telling himself it was because it was nice to have someone to actually talk to, and it was. But that didn’t give him a reason for what he was doing right now, did it? He was picking up on things that he shouldn’t even be concerned with. What did it matter if she didn’t have friends?

A month ago, he’d have said nothing to all of this. What changed?

“I take it you don’t know either,” she said to the screen, showing Red’s sprite as it stood somewhere in Viridian.

RED: …No.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was being so friendly.

Though she still hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the game’s code, Red had allowed Leann to play the game normally once she made it clear she wasn’t going to hurt him anymore. He’d warn her if things were about to go south and he couldn’t prevent it, and she’d stop whatever she was doing and switch to something else.

Right now, she had a Caterpie for no particular reason that she was building up in her spare time. She didn’t have the heart to say anything, but she’d never actually been that into Pokemon. She only bought the cartridge because it was a ‘cool old thing!’ and it was cheap compared to the rest of the game store’s wares. She’d actually forgotten her GameBoy had even existed from its place in the back of her closet.

She was sure it would be a gut-punch to Red if he found out, so she kept silent and proceeded to Google reasons for why she did certain things. Poor guy didn’t seem to have any concept of the internet.

She hummed. “Can I ask you something personal?”

RED: Sure.

“Do you… I don’t know. Do you, like, remember exactly how you came to be… like this? Were you always aware you were in a game?”

It was something he’d pondered himself on multiple occasions. Hearing it asked from another person seemed to give him some form of clarity on the matter.

RED: I…

RED: I don’t know what first made me realize. If I had to guess…

RED: Maybe it was the same narrative repeating with every new game players created.

RED: The more it happened, the more I kept asking myself: Why? Why do I keep doing this? Hasn’t this been done before? Why do I need to keep repeating it? What’s making me do this?

The text got a little too cozy in the box and some of it ended up cut off. She could still make it out though. It seemed she’d opened some sort of floodgate.

RED: People I thought were my friends, rivals… EVERYONE started repeating the same lines all of a sudden.

RED: No matter what happened, it was the same set of dialog. Almost like they were following some sort of script.

RED: …Do you know what it’s like to realize you never had any freedom? To have your illusion of choice ripped away from you and be told you were MADE to do this?

“…No. I don’t.” The thought made her stomach twist.

RED: Even my accomplishments were stripped from me. The only things I could hold onto that made me something, GONE. Taken by something “better.”

Her interest piqued at that. “I don’t know if you still remember, but early on when we started talking… Back when I had to spell out everything, you mentioned being replaced? What did you mean by that?”

RED: They took everything from me and replaced me like I meant NOTHING. Then they cast me aside to rot while my legacy was destroyed by some…

RED: …BROWN-HAIRED KID.

‘Brown-haired kid?’ Suddenly it clicked. “Do you mean the games that came after yours?”

RED: …

She could practically feel the anger emanating from those three dots. Now it made sense. Mostly. There was just one issue: How in the world did he know there were other games? If she was the first person he ever had a conversation with, then how could he know about the newer games? And there were so many. Was his anger directed at all of them or a handful in particular?

She cursed her lack of knowledge on the franchise and made a mental note to look into things later. Back to the matter at hand, she wondered if maybe he had somehow read the data on the different GameBoys he was inserted into. Maybe he had some sort of backwards compatibility that let him look into the tiny internal memory. She wasn’t an expert, but she figured it might be likely that there were little traces of data here and there that remained on the console itself. Data that would reveal there were different games and that Red wasn’t in them. If that was the case, then it was likely his anger was directed at any subsequent games that would’ve been out in the 90’s or so and not, say, games on the DS or something.

“That’s… I’m really sorry, Red. I wish I could say I understand what that’s like but…” She struggled to think of an appropriate response. “I don’t know if it matters any to you, but yours is the best game in my opinion.” Technically a bit of a stretch, seeing as how this was the only Pokemon game she’d ever owned, let alone played—save for a random Pokemon-themed pinball game she used to have—but the poor guy deserved some validation. It wasn’t exactly a lie either; she would gladly trade every game she owned if it meant getting to keep his.

RED: …….Thanks.

RED: That actually means a lot.

It felt wrong to ask him if he had a prior life to all this, so she left the conversation where it was at. She was no closer to figuring out what he was now than before, but that was ok. At least he seemed to be feeling a bit calmer now. A change to a lighter topic was in order.

She asked him if he knew about TV shows.

So confession time: I actually never have owned or played a single Pokemon game in my entire life. I have recently been thinking about picking up one just to try it, but yeah. The mention of the GameBoy Pokemon Pinball thing is legit the only game I've ever played. Funny, right? Of course I remember the original series, I had a few toys and even some of the movies, but I was never really into the franchise. Would not have seen myself doing this at any point in time but hey, life's weird like that.

Part 5: here

Part 7: here

[asaarii]

If requests are open may I ask for Yone from Heartsteel crumbs? Hcs or whatever you may feel like writing?

1:00 AM ft: heartsteel!yone reader: gn wc: 925 this was supposed to be like 500 words oopsie this ap psych project is lowkey kicking my ass ngl...i've never heard of the Basal Ganglia or Tentorium Cerebelli until yesterday

His jaw is set tightly as he haphazardly tosses his phone aside, uncaring of the concerning thud his phone makes when it first makes contact with the carpeted floor. The worn-cushioned office chair does little to provide any sort of respite when he sits down, his foot bouncing rapidly as he slouches. He rests his aching temple on his fingertips whilst his eyes screwed shut, trying his best to alleviate his anger-clouded mind before he did anything stupid. 

He and his brother rarely saw eye to eye with a few of the only things they shared in common being their last name and choice of hairstyle. It was naive of him to think that Yasuo would change his mind about attending the Heartsteel debut event, but Yone couldn’t help but try to reach out to his younger brother, only to be shut down, leading to a rather heated argument between the two.

However, as he opens his eyes, he’s met with a somewhat messy desk, littered with contracts and promotional deals that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about at the moment. Even in his moment of simmering rage, he still meticulously works through the seemingly endless piles of paper despite the ache of fatigue beginning to seep into his bones.

With the debut right around the corner, he has no time for slacking off, even if it means pushing his needs aside. No matter how much he yearns for sleep, he forces his eyes awake, desperately trying to drown out his previous conversation with his brother through his workload. He shakes his head when he feels his eyes begin to droop and the grip on his pen slackens.

It’s only when the words on the paper begin to slur into an incomprehensible yet repetitive flurry does he tear his gaze away, rubbing at his pounding temple as he squints at the digital clock at his bedside.

1:00 AM, it reads; bold, bright red letters illuminating that small portion of his room. He’s too tired to even groan, too physically and emotionally exhausted to do anything else other than sigh. The only thought that grants him some peace is knowing that the other members are sound asleep right now, most probably excited about their upcoming debut.

He jolts when his door creaks open, suddenly awake and acutely aware of his surroundings. On instinct, his hand reaches for his drawer, slowly pulling out a small pocket knife he had purchased on a whim, though his blades are set just above his bed in case of any real emergency. Plus, in his defense, they make good decor.

“Yone…?” A sleep-riddled voice fills the tense silence, completely oblivious to Yone’s inner turmoil. Everything stills as silence once more envelops the room, but the man’s heart slows slightly upon realizing who had entered, tucking the pocket knife back into the confines of his desk.

He begins making his way over to you, making sure to pick up his fallen phone, wincing as the bright light of his lock screen burns his retinas. Notifications from his brother glare up at him, illuminating his terse expression. He quickly shuts his phone off, taking a breath as he pockets his phone, his full attention now on you. He’ll deal with Yasuo later.

“What are you still doing up? It’s one in the morning, [Name].” Even as he chides you, he’s gentle, leading you to his bed where you melt against him.

“Couldn’t sleep much…Was thinkin’ too much about the debut,” you mumble into his neck, allowing him to adjust the two of you into a far more comfortable position.

Ah, so that’s what this is about.

Yone hums in thought, pulling his hair free from his ponytail before once more settling beside you. You mumble something in your sleep-addled haze that he doesn’t quite catch, but goes along with anyway. You pout slightly when he doesn’t respond, pushing yourself up to your elbows, much to his confusion.

“Say it back.”

“What?” Had he been any less tired, he would have laughed.

“Yone…” You whine, poking lightly at his chest with a tired roll of your eyes. “Say. It. Back.”

“Say what back?” This time, he does laugh, the gentle sound carrying out through the otherwise silent room.

“I love you.” 

His heart stutters in his chest, all woes forgotten over a singular declaration. The stack of papers on his desk seems to disappear and the weight of his phone in his pocket vanishes as well. He smiles gently, cupping your cheek as he sits up as well. 

“I love you, too.” He kisses you gently, as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he’s a tad too rough. No longer is he the producer for the up-and-coming band, Heartsteel, or the overbearing older brother.

He’s just Yone.

You always had this effect on him, making him forget all his troubles by simply being you, and he’ll be damned should he ever take such a precious gift for granted.

In another life, pleasant nights like these are few and far between, littered with danger and little to no respite. Yet in that life (or death, if you want to be precise), you still remain a constant to Yone, still alleviating his stress, still offering him kisses and hugs when everything becomes too much, and, most importantly of all, still being with him.

Though neither you nor Yone knows or cares about this supposed other life, the bond still remains. In this life, and the next…and the next…and the next.

©asarii 2023 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

[eldritchcuddles]

January* Wordcount tracking

*yes I’m aware it’s the middle of February don’t judge me >.<

Total January Wordcount: 7384 words Posted: nix! but I spent a chunk of January sick and the rest of it underwater at work, so it's not exactly a shock in spite of me doing my best to make it otherwise. Slowly chugging back into the swing of things now that the holidays are over and in theory so is the worst of the tax season prep garbage please let it be over i am  S O  tired orz IN PROGRESS: There’s a place I’ve seen where the soul burns clean: 6150 words  \(^o^)/ Self Indulgence Sandbox (most people live founders era AU + transmigration AU and a whole bunch of super self indulgent shenanigans): 461 words SVSSS surprise bunny (modern/urban fantasy AU, I guess? idek man this came out of nowhere I was possessed by the spirit of Airplane-jiujiu or something): 773 words

Sneak Peeks: 

> There's a place I've seen where the soul burns clean < "Get your hands off of me," Izuna snapped, trying to shove his way upright again. "If I can  make you lay down, Izuna-san, fighting people stronger than me is   pointless," Haruka told him, tipping him mercilessly back down onto his futon while Fuyubi - the old traitor - watched and didn't lift a finger or speak a word in his defense. "Is that your official medical opinion?" Fuyubi knew him well enough to hear the danger in his tone and gave him a   sharp look, but again, didn't say anything. Hn. Well, maybe the old man just preferred to let other people make their own mistakes. He could accept that. "What, don't slow your recovery with stupid fights? Does it need to be?" "It sounds to me like before I can be allowed out of your care to fight anyone else, first I have to prove I can beat you." Haruka's ability to mask her feelings really suffered if you caught her by   surprise, Izuna reflected, basking in the sudden and obvious look of realization followed by intense and instant regret that flashed across her face. "Uh."

> Self Indulgence Sandbox <

Her face had felt like her face, but how was she supposed to have known what that meant? She looked more like herself than she would have expected, still with her sharp chin and strong jawline, angular cheeks and eyebrows and faintly hooked blade of a nose. Her features were maybe a bit awkward with youth now, but she figured she would probably grow into them again. She was more likely to grow into someone more handsome than pretty, mitigating factors of the apparently mandatory Uchiha prettiness aside.

The upward sweep and angles of her left eye were more or less the same fox eye shape that she’d always had. Her right eye had always been slightly rounder, just another weird effect of the general distortion of that side of her face. Now she had one fox eye and one plum blossom eye, and that of all things was what was making her trip over herself as she studied the face that was now hers, but wasn’t.

She thought transmigration was supposed to start you as a baby? What was this nonsense with her having to get used to a new face and body during puberty? She did her time with this already! There better be some damn good perks to compensate her for having to do this again!!

… Okay so she was starting with a fully unlocked version of one of the most powerful kekkei genkai in the world, so. Maybe that was her compensation.

Still, she was a teenager again, and it was bad enough the first time. She really didn’t want to do it again, but the alternative seemed to be dying, so she’d make the best of it.

And it could be worse, at least she didn’t seem to have a System like some of those novels had that gave her secret quests and restrictions and shit, that would suck a lot.

> SVSSS Surprise Bunny < "This is the guy that regularly makes you cry from being mean about your writing that you freely admit is shit churned out to keep you in crap discount noodles and stuff. Totally understand why you'd want some troll with delusions of being a literary sophisticate to know where you live, people that get off on feelings of superiority over stupid shit are usually great IRL buds." Wow, that was rich coming from her, although Airplane valued his life too highly to say that to Miss Sha's perfectly made-up little face. "... Did you just say eye are ell like... did you just do that?" She put one of her claws fingers in his face and he gulped, going a little cross eyed trying to track both the potential murder-talon and what she was saying. "You have no room to talk about being internet poisoned, first off, and second off, this is about you and your shitty security decisions, not my unique and quirky idiolect." Yep, she'd been spending a lot of time around Liu Mingyan again, huh. It was  always funny hearing the younger demon generations picking up modern  slang. If Airplane wouldn't have ended up super dead almost as soon as he arrived, he'd love to see how their royal demon families handled the generation gap getting so much more dramatic now that their realms were in conjunction again for the first time in he didn't care how many thousand years. He was willing to bet that Lord Sha would shrug it off, but Mobei-jun's uncle? His dad? Hilarious. Not that Mobei-jun hardly ever spoke around him, so Airplane's assumptions about him acquiring modern speech patterns were mostly theoretical, but it was funny! He could maybe use it as inspiration for a skit in one of his short spinoff stories! He was very careful to hide the sources of his inspiration, of course, but he was still so glad Mobei-jun definitely never read any of his stuff. He didn't need to know how much inspiration Airplane had taken from his... everything. Anyway, he was trying to banter with Sha Hualing and making her feel ignored was never a good idea. "Oh, were you going for manic pixie dream girl on purpose? I've never been sure." She leaned in (eep!), red (berry bright, juicy, stop trying to narrate real life like it's a lead in to some last minute before the deadline filler papapa, come on, especially not about these assholes you call friends sometimes when the shivering purse dog you have where other people keep their self-respect is napping on the job!!) Yes! Anyway! Red lips, very nice mouth he supposed if you were into that sort of thing, but it curved into a very mean little smile that wouldn't have been out of place on any of the meaner wives in his novels. Which wasn't surprising, Airplane guessed. He drew inspiration from many sources, he was a man of varied tastes that could cater to a wide range of paying readers! "And you never will be," she told him smoothly, giggling as he whined. He was still sick! This was patient abuse! Or something!

[getmemymicroscope]

There's apparently some review out there about how this is disjointed (maybe slightly) and how it's hard to know which timeline you're in. ... Which, like, you would need to be literally blind and deaf for that to be true - because the tlmelines consist of and are literally differentiated by 1) grown-ass woman who just keeps whining and is too slow to realize the obvious, even when she seems to have enough foresight (hindsight?) to have it figured out and 2) a young boy. Like, it's very, very fucking easy to tell which timeline you're viewing at literally all times.

No, the problems with this movie are "timelines are confusing." Instead, they are: 1) the mother, holy hell - though, in her defense, she is better in the revised previous timeline (well, once you get past that initial bullshit of her hating on her son when he first mentions the firetruck); 2) the lack of urgency/thrill in this thriller, and 3) Taapsee figuring out very early on that something she said to the boy completely changed the timeline, and yet still going insane searching for a non-existent daughter (and harassing he useless other-timeline husband so many times).

The movie just takes way too long to get going - I guess trying to build up that their relationship is a mess and her husband is good-for-nothing: maybe that's necessary to the plot, but man does it lead to a slow start. Things do eventually start to pick up, but they slow down now-and-again when we cut back to the young kid doing horrifically stupid stuff (sneaking into the garage, for example). I mean, maybe that adds some horror - but man is it a stupid decision.

As opposed to Contratiempo/The Invisible Guest (Badla) and El Cuerpo/The Body (The Body), I haven't seen the Spanish version of this movie Durante La Tormenta/Mirage - partially because initially I thought it sounded more like supernatural/horror than thriller/suspense (and, after watching this, I'm more reaffirmed about that - sorta). It's not necessarily supernatural, more sci-fi I guess, but really not a whodunnit. Anyhow, point is - I enjoyed Badla and The Body a bit less because they were essentially scene-for-scene copies (as opposed to, say, Evaru); in this case, I don't have that knowledge (though it wouldn't surprise me if it was), but my lack of enjoyment comes more just from the slow pace and the initial excitement-killing first act of the movie - especially from the entrance of Antara and Vikas all the way up until she wakes up after that TV scene. Too much dragging.

After that, though, it does get better. The 'Anay' twist is pretty obvious - movies will be movies, and they're not going to introduce pointless/unrelated characters - but this is less about the twists (we know Anay, even if they don't admit it; we know who committed the murder) and more about the journey of if/how she'll get back to her previous life.

Taapsee's character sort of annoys a bit in the middle there, I think when she breaks into Vikas' house and causes that row between him and his wife. By that point, she knows the truth (even if she won't accept it) and is clearly breaking into someone's house, but she still doesn't drop the "where's my daughter" thing, to the point of literally causing them to fight and his wife to slap him. I mean, he deserved it for other reasons, but when she did all that and then just turned and ran, that sorta frustrated me. Clearly she's confused and panicked and worried about her suddenly non-existent daughter, so maybe acting stupid is excusable, but she surpasses the limit with that sequence of events.

Overall it's not a bad movie though - I think even better than Looop Lapeta - and makes for an interesting premise and story. They could've shortened things up and made things a bit tighter overall, to cut some excess runtime, but it's pretty well done (though, like Badla and The Body, it may be a good idea to not compare it to the original, though I can't confirm that fact in this case). Once it figures out that it is time to start going, it does a pretty good job of being entertaining and gripping (as much as a 'too slow' thriller can be gripping).

[nekomacheercaptain]

Floral rings

I got inspired by this tweet and thought "Hey, do you know whose language I think gift giving is? Kid", so this is the result of that (also the rings are absolutely beautiful, I would love if he made them for me)

Word count: 0,7K

Kid was trying to eat his lunch when he saw you gasp and awe down at your magazine as your fingers swiftly turned each page. What caught his attention was the sound of a pen circling something on paper, and he left his food on the plate before standing behind you, a shadow being cast over you.

“Whatchu doin’?” he mumbled above you as you continued looking at the pages with stars in your eyes at each reveal of the beautiful floral rings displayed on the pages.

“Hi babe,” you welcomed him with less enthusiasm than usual, too engrossed in your magazine, and he felt himself clench his jaw ever so slightly, “contemplating buying some of these rings, aren’t they pretty!” your voice now happy and engaged as you raised the magazine for him to see.

He yanked it from your hands, turning through the pages too rough for your liking while scoffing, “that’s just a waste of money,” he looked down at you before putting the magazine in his pocket, seeing your jaw drop in offense.

“Kid what the fuck? I was looking at that!” you yelled at him, but to no avail. He just dismissed you with his hand before he walked towards his workshop, hoping he didn’t press the magazine too hard into his pocket. You looked at the neglected food he left on the table, cursing at your stupid boyfriend who had single-handedly ruined your mood in a couple of seconds.

Kid spent the remainder of the day away from you in his workshop, and you had complained all you needed to Killer, who always set aside some time of his day to listen to you bitch about your captain and boyfriend. If he was lucky you did it while he was making food, killing two birds with one stone. 

When you laid in bed, ready to fall asleep, the red-head decided to show up, waking you up. And you noticed this was too much for you.

“Y/n, babe, look at-”

“No, that’s enough, I was just about to fall asleep, you can’t wake me up for some bullshit reason, Kid,” you spat out as you squinted at him.

“The hell? I didn’t even wake you up,” he yelled at you defensively, and you turned around, forcing him to talk to your back.

“Whatever, just let me sleep already,” you muttered, trying to fall asleep again. 

He scoffed, “You don’t wanna see what I’ve made for you? I know you’ll love it,” his cocky voice annoyed you more, but you didn’t budge. So he grabbed your hand, causing you to turn around again, seeing him trying to place something on your finger.

“Kid what the-” you yelled, but your jaw fell in a loud gasp when you saw the material wrapped around your finger. Your other hand went to cover your mouth in disbelief as a wide smile replaced your earlier frown.

“What the hell, Kid, you made this?” you felt tears build up in your eyes, never looking away from the beautiful floral ring now decorating your hand, admiring the details of the flower and petals becoming shook at how it fits like a glove on your ring finger.

“Told ya it was a waste of money,” he smirked, easing his eyebrow arrogantly at you, making you sigh in defeat.

“You could have just asked for the magazine though, if you were going to make it for me anyway,” you punched his bicep lightly, “I wasn’t done looking”.

He didn’t say anything but a small smile was painting his lips as he saw you gushing over the ring, your hand moving in all angles to allow you to admire all of it.

“It fits me perfectly! You had quite the guess on my size,” you remarked as you laughed, not knowing he fully well knew exactly what your ring size was, a mold of each of your fingers a living proof of this laying on his workbench for future reasons, but he would never tell you that.

You cupped his face with your hands before planting a loving kiss on his lips which he happily obliged, before you kissed his cheek, “thank you, babe, it’s absolutely breathtaking”.

[sevlgi]

c’est la vie

requested: yes (many different requests put together)

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: a shit ton of angst, fluff ending 

contents: band!au, (kind of) celebrities!au, rivals to lovers, guitarist!rosé, guitarist!y/n, they’re honestly so in love, featuring jennie, jisoo, lisa, twice’s mina, skz’s han + chan, bts’s jeongguk, nct’s johnny + jaehyun. READ THIS FOR BAND CONTEXT

warnings: mentions of smoking

synopsis: It’s been 8 years since your legendary rivalry with L0VES1CK’s Park Chaeyoung began, and yet, she doesn’t seem to hate you any less. But maybe, with the right turn of events, both of you will learn that the line between love and hate is far thinner than you think.

a/n: IF THIS FLOPS I AM GOING TO FUCKING DEACTIVATE /HJ

listen to: all my friends are turning blue by loren, you stupid bitch by girl in red, love me or leave me by day6, slump by stray kids

word count: 12.2k

Park Chaeyoung hates that she can smell the smoke that clings to her clothing, even as she sings her heart out on stage with her hands moving restlessly on her beloved guitar.

This is her favorite place. The water that Lisa sprays into the crowd splashes onto her as well and glistens in her hair like beads sculpted of diamond, and she can hear Mina going hard on the drums behind her, Chan matching her energy on his electric guitar. Jaehyun backs Chaeyoung up when she misses the occasional lyric, holding her mic out to the crowd with a huge grin on her face.

And yet, the salty sting of sweat and the sweet hairspray that lingers on her doesn’t manage to disguise the cigarette box sitting in her pocket and the lighter one inch away from crashing onto the ground and setting the whole stage on fire.

But the song’s over, and she’s waving to the crowd as she walks off the stage backwards. “Come on,” Lisa laughs, tugging her down by her shirt. “We still have two shows left, and I’ll bet most of these guys will be at those too.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to stay up there a little longer?” Chaeyoung smiles. “What’re we doing tonight?”

Jaehyun and Chan exchange glances, Mina having already sped onto the tour bus to claim her shower privileges. “We could stay here,” Chan ventures. “We’ve gone out every night for the past couple of weeks.”

Chaeyoung wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to stay and listen to Bloodbath’s rehearsal.”

Rolling her eyes, Lisa shoves the Australian girl lightly and sighs, “I don’t get what you have against them. They’re good, and I’m sure they’re cool.”

“Have you been to one of their shows?” Chae scoffs. When met with silence, she raises her eyebrows and scans over her slightly guilty-looking bandmates. “Oh, god. You did.”

“In our defense, it was Mina’s idea,” Jaehyun pipes up. Typical of him to try and throw the missing member under the bus; Chaeyoung makes a mental note to rat him out later, in exchange for using Mina’s superior shower later. 

“Whatever. I guess we can stay in,” the guitarist sighs, yanking the door to her and Lisa’s tour bus open, probably a little harder than strictly necessary. She catches a glance of herself in the bathroom mirror, piercings caught in her hot-pink hair and glitter beading in the sweat that drips down her arm.

She flinches when she hears the loud, out-of-tune strum of a guitar, somehow penetrating the thick metal of the tour bus even from the stage a few miles away. 

Chaeyoung shoves her headphones in and turns the volume all the way up, uncaring of how her own voice grates on her ears. If she can’t go out, she’ll find her own distraction; when her hand drifts toward her back pocket, she realizes just how easy it is to drown out the idea that you ever existed.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” You wince and adjust your in-ear as the sound of your guitar echoes through the stadium, at ten times the volume it should be at. Jennie fails to disguise the absolute horror on her face as she’s deafened by the echoes inside her ears; you’d think that she would be used to it by now, but somehow, she still flinches every time.

Jisung yelps, ever the dramatic one. His own guitar hangs around his neck, abandoned for the mic that he fiddles with. You shout over the noise, “Jisoo, could you turn it down, though? Level 2, please.”

Your manager flashes a thumbs up before retreating down the stairs, massaging her own ears when you aren’t looking. “Did you say level 2?”

“Yeah!” Hesitantly, you strum what you think will be a softer chord, only for the same shriek to tear through your ears again. “I’m sorry,” you plead again, holding your hands up in a prayer when you earn another dirty look from Jennie.

In contrast, you can’t hear Jeongguk’s drums even when he uses his full (and considerable) strength, and even Jisung’s highest note doesn’t make it past the first row of the stadium. Flinging his hands up in the air, Jeongguk sighs, “This is not going to work. We have a show tomorrow.”

“I know,” you exhale sharply, making sure to keep a hand on your guitar so that you aren’t deafened again. 

“Bad news. Sound system is completely and utterly broken,” Jisoo says, cupping her hands so that her voice echoes up the stairwell. “None of your stuff is compatible with the speakers, and we don’t have the time to tune the backups.”

“So... what do we do?” Jisung frowns, hand stilling on his guitar.

Jisoo grimaces, “You’re probably going to have to go completely without the sound system and rely on acoustics.”

You make a face. “I have an electric guitar. And Jisung can’t be heard over Jeongguk without his mic, no offense to either of you.”

“Wasn’t L0VES1CK playing today?” Jennie questions, giving up on her own mic. “Could we ask to borrow their stuff?”

“Do they have everything we need?” Jeongguk asks doubtfully.

Jisoo sighs, and picks the lanyard with the keys up. “Worth a try. Can you guys try with just acoustics? Y/N, take Jennie’s ballad guitar. And Jeongguk, try to leave Jisung a little room.”

All of you give her a chorus of agreement, before you turn to your band members. “Okay,” you sigh, accepting the acoustic guitar Jennie hands you. “Let’s give it a shot.”

“It takes a stupid amount of effort to wake you up,” Chan sighs as he drags Chaeyoung forward by the elbow. Usually, the guitarist would protest a little more, but for once, she’s glad for her bandmates complete inability to go to sleep.

“So... why exactly are you waking me up at midnight? After exactly 15 minutes of sleep?” the girl groans, head lolling back. Chaeyoung hasn’t slept in 36 hours, solely sustained by energy gels, cigarettes, and Chan’s battery-acid coffee, and has absolutely no idea where her bandmate is dragging her to.

“... Johnny will explain it to you. You’ll probably take it better from him anyway,” Chan answers slowly.

She recognizes the creaking noise that she hears when Chan pushes open a door, though, and squints suspiciously. “Why are we back in the stadium? And why are you carrying our guitar?”

Now that her eyes are open, Chae can see the sweat beading on Chan’s temple as he carries both guitar cases on his left arm, dragging Chaeyoung along with his right, and she lunges to take her most prized possession from him. He dodges, and cajoles her, “Just let Johnny explain. Okay?”

She finds Mina, Jaehyun, and Lisa gathered below the stage with their manager Johnny and a stranger, a pretty albeit tired-looking woman smiling apologetically when she spots Chaeyoung. And on the stage sits four people who she’s avoided for a long time-- specifically, you right in the center, with your back turned to her as you explain something to your own bandmates. “What’s this about?”

“Chaeyoung! Hi, my name is Jisoo,” the woman introduces herself, holding her hands out in greeting. “I’m Bloodbath’s manager. We- well, the band- have a huge favor to ask of you guys.”

“Their instruments don’t work with the sound system,” Johnny intercepts. “And they want to know if they can borrow yours. One drum set, a bass, an electric guitar, and... four mics. Is that right?”

Jisoo nods vigorously, and pleads, “Just for today and tomorrow, then we’ll be out of your hair. We heard that the system here is bad, but not this bad. We’ll return everything in perfect condition, promise.”

Chaeyoung glances at the others. Mina shrugs and says, in that soft-spoken way of hers that won’t let anyone disappoint her, “We all said yes. It’s up to you.”

She’s almost about to say yes, when she feels a specific pair of eyes lingering on her. “No.”

The crushed look on Jisoo’s face almost makes her feel bad, as does the unsurprised twist of Jaehyun’s lips and the apologetic glance that Johnny casts. However, she hears from the stage, “What is your problem?”

“Excuse me?” Chaeyoung answers, switching her incredulous gaze to you, standing at the edge of the stage with your hands on your hips.

You gesture wildly at your bandmates, and exclaim, “You can’t just lend us these? We said we’d pay, and it’s not like we’re going to smash them! I swear, you Sydney College people are so pretentious, can you not be a little bit generous?”

“She knows your music school?” Lisa says dubiously.

The two of you say at the same time, with almost identical levels of anger, “We went to the same university.”

“And she,” Chaeyoung continues with a point in your general direction, “sabotaged my graduation performance.”

“I did not!” you yell. Someone places a hand on your shoulder, a heavily tattooed guy with a gentle expression that doesn’t match his intimidating appearance. You sigh. “I swear, I didn’t. And even if I did, that was five years ago. Just... pretend I’m not here, and lend us the stuff. Please.”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth to argue with you again, but realizes just how immature she seems. The only other boy on stage, a short kid with round cheeks and fluffy blue hair, looks so exhausted, and so does the girl pinching her eyebrows with the mic still in her hands. “Okay,” she finally says, and hears a quiet cheer from the tattooed guy. “But I want to stay for the rehearsal.”

You say, “What?!” at the same time as the guy says, “Yes! Yes, absolutely.”

The two of you exchange glances, Chaeyoung waiting with her arms crossed, until you roll your eyes and nod. “Thanks,” you mumble.

Mina pats Chae on the shoulder. “Hey. Don’t you need to sleep? You don’t even like their music, why are you staying for the rehearsal?”

“Minari. I love that guitar more than anything,” the Australian girl answers, with every ounce of seriousness in her body. “I’m not letting anything happen to it.”

“Suit yourself.” Contrary to Jaehyun’s dismissive tone, his eyes linger on Chaeyoung as he leaves, Chan following suit with a soft touch to her arm. Johnny stays to negotiate with Jisoo, the two of them trailing backstage, which leaves Chaeyoung to board the stage with her precious guitar in hand.

You don’t say anything as you take the case from her, with enough gentleness that she can’t say anything about it. “Is it tuned?” you ask without raising your head.

“Yes. Not a scratch,” Chaeyoung warns, watching you sling the faded canvas strap over your neck.

When you don’t respond, your members take it as their cue to introduce themselves. Tattoo guy raises his hand with a smile, already seated at Mina’s drum set. “I’m Jeongguk.”

“Jisung,” the guy holding Chan’s guitar says, tying his hair into a ridiculous bright blue ponytail. He looks a bit ridiculous in a giant sweatshirt and oversized guitar, platform sneakers disguising his height, but Chaeyoung passes on a comment.

The other girl smiles, eyes crinkling like a cat’s. “My name’s Jennie. Thanks for the equipment, by the way.”

“Sure.” Chaeyoung steps down and take a first-row seat. To your credit, you aren’t intimidated at all by her-- you take your position at the left of your diamond formation, strumming a few soft chords out of the guitar.

“Mic, one two,” Jennie says, and holds up a thumbs-up for Jisoo, who’s popped out to check on the equipment.

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Chaeyoung jumps when you shred the first note, a screeching G flat kicking off the start of the song as Jeongguk starts. And oh, god, she’s never heard a song like this from her own equipment.

And Jennie’s shouting out a line that perfectly emphasizes the grit to her tone, the notes floating weightlessly over Chaeyoung’s head as Jisung plays a gorgeous series of bass notes that Chae wishes she thought of first.

You only sing when the chorus needs a little extra kick to it, but the pink-haired girl swears that she only hears your voice. It hasn’t changed much since all the times you rivaled each other in the school showcases, but your demeanor has-- you’re no longer shy, gripping onto your scratched blue guitar for dear life. Instead, you’ve come alive with the heavy strums of Chaeyoung’s guitar, your smile glittering brilliantly under the hot stage lights and your head bobbing with the beat in tune with Jeongguk’s.

The guitar barely seems like hers anymore-- the shiny black of it, so lovingly polished, matches with your leather boots, the shape of it perfectly fitted to your hands splayed over the strings. 

She hates how raptly she pays attention, only waking up when the song ends and Jisung whoops loudly, hands held up in the air with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. “Let’s go!” Jeongguk yells too, hoisting his drumsticks up in victory.

The Australian girl hopes that the darkness of the audience is enough to cloak her as she gets up silently, taking the moment where you and Jennie’s backs are turned to talk with the two guys.

Your voice rings in her ears, and your smile aches in her heart.

“Jisung, can you go, like, the slightest bit higher on that note?” Jeongguk asks over lunch, staring intently at the phone cupped in Jennie’s hands.

“Yeah. You could probably do it if you tried, though,” Jisung sighs, chin cupped in his hands. You know that he doesn’t mean anything by it-- he knows that the drummer is making a perfectly good point. “Why don’t you take over my part in Mamma Mia tonight? Just the one song.”

Jeongguk shakes his head immediately, stuffing his mouth with a piece of bread like he tends to do when he doesn’t want to answer. Jennie sends Jisung a not-so-subtle frown, and the youngest protests, “I’m just saying! Jeongguk can sing circles around me, around all of us. No offense.”

“None taken. But you should drop the subject,” Jennie says, and you nod in agreement. “We only have one drummer.”

“Y/N can play the drums.”

“A little bit,” you sigh in exasperation with a shake of your head. “C’mon, we have a show in half an hour hours. Let’s stop.”

Jisung finally shuts up, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. You roll your eyes and rewind the practice video. “Do you guys think that harmony was bad?” you ask when it comes to a specific part in the bridge.

“No, it’s fine,” Jennie shrugs. Jisoo pops her head in and beckons with her hand, the cheers of the crowd already gathered in the stadium making it through the crack of the door. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Drinks after?” Jisung suggests, and you nod.

The stage lights hit like the sun intensified by ten times, but you wave even as your eyes adjust slowly to it. “Hey guys!” Jeongguk shouts, waving both his hands.

You open your mouth and raise your mic to echo his greeting when you realize who’s lingering right about the front. It’s Chaeyoung-- you can tell even over her black mask and beanie. Her eyes flick up from her guitar, hanging around your neck, to your face, a dispassionate expression on her face.

The show goes well enough, you suppose; the crowd is hyped enough to ask for an encore, and Jisung manages to persuade Jeongguk to join the part-switch. Your fingers tap on your thigh, unoccupied as you fumble with Jennie’s lyrics, the other girl laughing as she taps out the most basic of beats. Jeongguk gives up on the guitar and focuses on Jisung’s high note (which, you have to admit, does suit his voice better).

But your eyes are always drawn back to the girl watching you from the audience. You point the mic into the audience but stare at her, and only manage to tear your eyes to interact with your members.

She’s gone by the time you say your goodbyes, bounding down the stairs with the biggest grin you’ve had in a while. “Why don’t we do this more often?” Jisung laughs, still bubbling over with energy.

“We’d die,” you deadpan, but you can’t tear the smile off your own face, either. You examine the guitar in your hands. “How much do you think one of these costs?”

“2.6 grand,” a voice answers. You look up to find Chaeyoung herself, hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie, mask removed to reveal a makeup-free face that looks more like the one you remember from school. “I’ll hook you up with one if you like.”

“I don’t think I make that much revenue,” you laugh, embarrassed. “You probably do, though.”

Chaeyoung joins your little quartet as you make your way to the equipment room. “What makes you say that?”

“We’ve been to your shows,” Jennie answers, glancing over. She’s untying the elaborate plait in her hair, struggling until Jisung rolls his eyes and reaches over to help. “Cost an arm and a leg, even though we were sitting pretty far away.”

“Your tickets aren’t exactly cheap either,” Chae points out with a small smile on her face. “Thank god Jisoo let me in.”

“What’d you think?” Jeongguk asks.

She considers the question, then answers, “You should sing more. I like your voice, even if it isn’t super rock-suited.”

“See!” Jisung exclaims, and Jeongguk ruffles his exquisitely styled hair. “What’re you doing backstage with us, though?” the bassist asks, glancing over at the pink-haired girl still strolling by your side.

Chaeyoung sighs. “I... have a favor to ask.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh. Do tell.”

“Shit.”

You sink into the couch, head in your hands; you aren’t sure if it’s bad that Chaeyoung doesn’t even smile at your torture. (She’s supposed to be your rival, after all.) “I forgot to change my email in the database,” you groan, the heels of your hands digging into your forehead.

“Well, that’s your fault,” she says, lips twisted, and you glare at her.

“Didn’t you come here to ask for my help?”

Chae sighs out through her nose, conceding the point. “We’re supposed to perform.”

“And, what? You’re here to ask me to perform with you?” you ask incredulously. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do. And that’s why I’m here to ask you not to perform.”

Your jaw falls slack in pure shock; as much as Chaeyoung hates you for your short-lived rivalry in music school, you never held a grudge against her for all the usurped opportunities. In school, you thought she was nice, in fact, and just assumed that she was intimidated by you or not social. But after your debut, and all the times she refused to even clap or smile at your performances, you realized that it was all wishful thinking.

“Shut the fuck up,” you say on instinct. “No. I won’t just not perform at my own goddamn reunion. Park Chaeyoung, I am going to show you the fuck up at that show, and I am going to show everyone that I am better than you.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, and rolls her eyes as she gathers herself to her feet. “Suit yourself. And by the way,” she calls over her shoulder, “your voice crack in Sweet Chaos was pretty bad.”

You slam the door after her.

Jeongguk frowns at you disapprovingly as you do your best at replicating Jennie’s puppy-dog eyes. “Why me?” he whines, his new lip ring shifting as he matches your pout.

“Because you’re a really good singer!” you smile, batting your eyelashes. “And you’re hot! All the girls are going to be swooning over you. I want the social advantage of bringing the hottest possible duet partner.”

“They’d swoon over Jisung too. Probably more so over Jen,” he points out.

You wave your hand in the air. “Jisung’s too young for them to swoon over.”

“He’s in his twenties.”

“And three years younger than everyone there,” you continue, as if Jeongguk never talked at all. “And Jennie’s too hot.”

“Thanks,” he says sarcastically. “Your point?”

“My point is that I want you to come with me. C’mon, don’t you want to not drum for once? You love all those ballads, come and play them with me in front of a bunch of people who are going to fall head over heels for you,” you plead. 

Jeongguk huffs out a breath. “What if we rapped?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if we rap?” he repeats. “We’ve never rapped in any of our songs. We could do, like, Trivium or something if you really want a shock factor.”

“Both Jen and Jisung are better than us at rapping,” you point out.

Jeongguk waves it away, and says, “Then you ask one of them to do it with you. But rapping would be a huge shock, if you really wanted to wow Chaeyoung and our fans.”

You scowl. “Who said I wanted to wow Chaeyoung? There’s, like, thousands of people attending the damn thing.”

The eyebrow that serves as your only response aggravates you enough to smack him over the head. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Jeongguk hums, flashing you the sweet smile that contrasts so much with his all-black attire and the tattoos you can’t even count anymore. “You could also just bring all of us and make it our concert.”

“No, all of you are coming no matter what. I’m a celebrity,” you drawl sarcastically, slinging an arm over the drummer’s shoulder. “But you aren’t getting a drum set if we all perform together. You’re singing.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and shoves you off playfully, getting up from the couch to pour out some more honey tea for your throat. “Yeah, yeah. When is it?”

“That’s... the thing. It’s next week,” you smile weakly.

He whips his head to you, eyes wide. “What?!”

Mina shakes her head when Chaeyoung holds up a pair of excessively ripped tights, pouting her lips in disapproval. “Are you trying to scandalize your entire class?”

“We were music students,” Chae deadpans, but picks a different jacket.

“That’s better. What are we performing again?”

The Australian girl purses her lips and says first, “I’ll tell you, but you can’t judge me. I have my reasons.”

Mina raises an eyebrow. “Okay...?”

“We’re playing Love Me or Leave Me. By Bloodbath.”

“Oh. Oh, no,” the drummer says immediately, sitting up and staring at Chaeyoung with an incredulous expression on her face. “I thought you hated Bloodbath! Besides, that’s not our concept and you know it, I don’t even know if we can pull that song off.”

Chae holds her hands up in surrender, pleading, “Hear me out! The notes aren’t too bad, and Lisa says she’s already learned the entire bass part for fun. And Chan’s been dying to do a rock song, and I’m sure you can do it. We’re gonna go viral.”

“Is that your only motivation for singing a song by our rival?” Mina scrutinizes Chaeyoung, her uncanny ability to read her bandmates’ thoughts shining through her usually mellow eyes. “No. You want to show everyone that you’re better than Y/N, don’t you?”

“So what if I do?” The pink-haired girl crosses her arms tight and avoids the other girl’s eyes; truth be told, she hasn’t even told Chan what’s she’s planning to do, knowing fully well that he’s going to psychoanalyze her even harder than Mina is. Jaehyun doesn’t really give a shit, nor does Lisa; it’s these two and their mothering tendencies that worry her.

But Mina blows out an exasperated breath, and concedes, “It’s your reunion. I’ll start practicing on the trip home.”

“Thank you!” Chaeyoung grins, exhilarated.

She’s determined to prove that it’s a good idea-- to her members, to her fans, and more specifically, you. Chaeyoung is determined to prove that she’s always going to win.

To be completely honest, you can barely believe how quickly the week flies by, a whirlwind of no sleep and staying up late to rehearse your parts with Jennie and Jisung. 

“Hoseok sunbaenim must never breathe,” Jisung complains, bending over after spitballing half the verse in one breath. 

“Hey, I got Yoongi’s parts. Yoongi,” Jennie repeats for emphasis, drumming her fingers on her mic as she tries to return her heartbeat to normal. She glares at Jeongguk in the corner, who declined to perform after all, despite assigning you the most difficult Trivium song he could find. 

 “You suit his style,” Jeongguk shrugs by way of explanation, an infuriating grin on his face as he twirls his drumsticks. “Jisung’s young, too, so he has the energy for Hoseok’s verses.”

Jisung scowls. “I’m 21.”

“Whatever.”

“Guys, guys. Do we have outfits picked?” you ask, partially to break them up and partially because you only just remembered the detail.

“Aren’t we just reusing our black suits from last year’s AMAs performance?” Jennie asks, frowning.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Lifting his head from where he squats on the floor, Jisung calls out, “Don’t be nervous. We’re gonna be great. I bet half of your classmates have already been to one of our shows, anyway.”

You roll your eyes but don’t try to argue, rehearsing the mic flip movement that you’ve tried too hard to mess up. “Okay. We’re still going to the open mic after, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk confirms, holding his thumbs up. “Let’s do this.”

“Chaeyoung!” Jihyo exclaims at the entrance, bounding over with her characteristic huge grin and a warm hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Chae smiles, patting Jihyo’s back. She only has good memories with the other girl from school-- the two of them collaborated on so many performances that all made #1 that it’s hard to not remember her well. “You coordinated?”

“I sure did,” Jihyo nods proudly. She glimmers all over with her subtly glittery jumpsuit and not-so-subtle eye makeup, gems shining at her ears and in the dip of her collarbone. “I can’t believe how many celebrities have come. Including you. Cha Eunwoo is here!”

Jaehyun, behind Chaeyoung, lets out a small “whoa”. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. Come on in, I look forward to your performance! Your equipment is all backstage, if you want to check it.”

The five of them head in as one tightly knit cluster, all of their jaws dropping at the beautiful venue, glistening with sheer streamers flung all over and violet LED lights illuminating the stage that serves as the centerpiece of it all. Indeed, Chaeyoung recognizes many faces, not just from school, but from the silver screen or from various music award shows. There’s one face that she doesn’t spot, though, and she just assumes that you’re running late. Like you always have.

Chae turns to find Jaehyun already enthusiastically talking to Yugyeom. Lisa has disappeared into a throng of the Loona members, Mina sneaking back out to talk to Jihyo, and Chan-- Chan’s with a squirrel-cheeked boy, talking enthusiastically about some Trivium song.

The pink-haired girl’s eyes narrow. If she isn’t mistaken, that’s Jisung from Bloodbath-- which means that you have to be around here somewhere.

“Looking for me?”

Chaeyoung hates how quickly she turns around, but she almost gives herself whiplash as she shifts her gaze to you, looking excessively smug in your dark makeup and impeccable outfit. “No,” she hisses.

“Sure, sure,” you smile, taking the seat beside her without being invited. “Fun being back here, huh? Minghao flew all the way in from China. Remember that stage we did against you guys?”

“That was 5 years ago,” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. “You haven’t won against me outside of school.”

“Sure,” you shrug, then lean in with a knowing look in your eyes. “You’re still pretty bothered by things that happened five years ago, though.”

Before she gets to respond with something that probably wouldn’t help her case by much anyway, Jihyo clears her throat on stage, waving for everyone’s attention as the spotlight shines on her. To Chaeyoung’s dismay, the table that the two of you share is filled up by all of your members, minus Mina. “-- and welcome to our reunion!” Jihyo cheers, the first half of her statement having been drowned out by Chae’s own thoughts. “And because we are former music students, and most of us are now accomplished musicians in our own right, we’ve asked a lot of you to prepare a stage with any of your guests. So, first... A.C.E?”

You cheer and clap when Chan and his members step up (why did you never cheer like that for Chaeyoung?) and lean back to enjoy the performance. Your eyes never stray to Chae even once, which she only knows because she still can’t tear her eyes away from you.

A surprisingly small amount of people actually sign up for a stage (though Chaeyoung bets that more will step up for casual reunion stages later), and before she knows it, Chan is tugging her backstage to start prepping. “You okay? You look a little out of it.”

“I’m fine,” she smiles tightly. She thinks of making you stare at her, wide-eyed and jealous, or even just with awe shining in your eyes. She thinks of your hands on her guitar, so much better suited than hers ever were, of your voice singing all the lines that she’s about to usurp, of your condescending grins all those times you won against her. 

But all those thoughts disappear as soon as Chaeyoung steps up and takes her spot right in the center, her eyes trained right on you and the smirk that tells her, “I’m watching.”

And she starts to play.

“It's all up to you. I have no choice but to watch.”

You almost spit out the soda that you just gulped down when Chaeyoung’s voice first floats into the audience; or more specifically, her voice singing your part in your song. 

Those chords sound again, those oh-so-familiar chords from months and months of composing and practicing, strummed by Chaeyoung on her acoustic guitar as she continues your verse. “Whether to finish it or not, it's all up to you now.”

“Wow,” Jisung whispers beside you when Jaehyun continues with his verse, crooning into the mic with a pretty dimpled smile. You only nod to agree with your bandmate.

It’s your song, that’s for sure-- it’s Love Me Or Leave me, just a bit more upbeat, with less emphasis on the drums than Jeongguk would use. (You don’t know how Mina managed to get a drum set in.) But it feels different to see someone else singing it, someone who’s claimed to hate your band and your music for years-- someone who’s claimed ot hate you.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but after every few passes over the crowd, Chaeyoung’s eyes settle on you. Her hair settles over her eyes, gleaming a bubblegum color in the yellow light as her voice soars, hitting every high note effortlessly. “I've endured it for quite a while, the coldness in your eyes and words.”

You finish each lyric in your head, and you can see Jennie mouthing along with an amazed expression on her face. Jisung claps his hands silently, Jeongguk unconsciously drums on his own thighs; you’re rapt with attention, and maybe just a little bit of an unexplainable feeling twisting in your stomach.

“That was L0VES1CK, performing Love Me or Leave Me by Bloodbath! And, what a coincidence-- Y/N, lead guitarist in Bloodbath, has a performance scheduled as well,” Jihyo smiles, beckoning you. “We’ll check in with Bloodbath after two more performances.”

You get up, numb, Chaeyoung’s voice still lingering in your head, her eyes still on you. And on a moment’s impulse, you tug Jeongguk to his feet as well, ignoring his surprised stare. “Change of plans,” you mumble.

Chaeyoung’s nails break skin about halfway through your first verse. She’s not imagining it-- you’re staring right at her as you belt, “Your bullet bullet bullet, I’ll take it anytime if this is what you want~”

It makes it worse to see Lisa cheer when Jennie starts her part, to see Chan raise his hands to encourage Jisung’s killer riff. Even Jaehyun and Mina cup their hands around their mouths and whoop from time to time-- Chae has to admit that it’s your best song to perform to date, engaging enough to make every former classmate in the room stand up and yell the lyrics.

“That’s even better, it's too familiar now. If this makes you feel better, just shoot me.”

You scrunch your face up playfully as you interact with Jennie, picking a stunning series of notes in tune with her chorus. Jeongguk goes so hard that Chae isn’t even sure that the drumsticks will survive the night.

Does she look like that? Does she look like you? Does L0VES1CK look like Bloodbath, their junior of two years when they perform? Because as she watches, Chaeyoung doesn’t even remember the exhilaration she felt when she herself was standing up on that stage.

She manages to stay seated for the entire song, but as soon as you strike the ending chord and crouch down, laughing despite all your breath having escaped you, Chae gets up and slips through the door. No one notices it, anyway, and she plops down on the side of the curb and flicks her lighter on again.

Ribbons of dark gray smoke float through the void of dark sky outside, a ring of red lipstick remaining on the cigarette. Chaeyoung coughs, then grinds it to ashes under the heel of her boot; she doesn’t want to leave too much of a smell.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since L0VES1CK debuted,” she answers drily, knowing fully well who’s coming to sit next to her. You hold your hand out, and Chae bats you away. “I’m not enabling you.”

You roll your eyes and bring your knees up to your chest. “You guys did good, you know. I haven’t heard such a good cover of our song yet.”

She casts a surprised glance at you after the compliment. You aren’t meeting her gaze, but you always did have a problem with complimenting anyone other than yourself. “You think so?”

“I mean, yeah. You are still our sunbaes,” you answer with a small smile. “Those two years really show.”

“In our exhaustion, maybe. You guys are so energetic. Makes me feel old.”

“We’re the same age,” you scoff. You lean back, palms pressing into the rough concrete; if you squint enough, the swirls of smoke almost look like clouds. “You know, you’re going to ruin your voice if you keep at it.”

Chaeyoung raises an eyebrow. “What, smoking? Since when have you cared? I’m pretty sure it’s better for you if my voice is ruined and I can never sing again.”

Even she winces at the bitterness in her voice. “I mean, our bands aren’t so much rivals anymore. Did you see how excited Jisung was when you guys sang our song?” Shaking your head fondly, you sigh, “I wish I’d picked one of yours.”

“Oh, yeah? What would you have done?”

You consider the question, then answer softly, “I’ve always had a soft spot for Rooftop. Jennie loves Moonshot, too. You know, I wasn’t originally planning on Shoot Me.”

“That explains the lack of backtrack. What’d you replace?”

“Ddaeng. By Trivium, I don’t know if you know them?” you ask, glancing over.

Chae rolls her eyes and laughs, “Who doesn’t know Trivium? Best day of my life was when Namjoon presented an award for us. I didn’t know you could rap.”

“I can’t really,” you say dismissively. “It was just for fun. But I thought Shoot Me was going to be a good response to Love Me or Leave Me. We are a rock band, anyway.”

She doesn’t respond to that, and you let out a breath. “You know, I never thought you hated me in school. I do now, of course.”

“You do?”

“How can I not? I mean, you literally said, and I quote, ‘Bloodbath is a bunch of wannabes, especially the lead guitar. Her voice is really nothing special.’“

Chaeyoung winces. “Yeah. That was immature.”

“That was an understatement,” you snort. “But I never hated you. I wanted you to like me, you know. I thought you were so cool when I transferred in, and I thought you’d like me more if I proved to you that I was just as good as you.”

“You’re better,” she says quietly.

“What?”

The pink-haired girl presses her lips together in a thin line before repeating, “You’re better. You always have been.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to our names on the leaderboard. We tied so much,” you smile nostalgically. “It was so exhausting, though.”

Yet again, you surprise Chaeyoung. As far as she can remember, she’s never seen you cry-- she’s only seen your triumphant, sometimes sardonic grin when you win, your stone-cold promises that you’re not going to fall. Without her prompting, you continue, chin cupped in your hand, “I just wanted to be as good as you were. You... you’re so talented. I think I knew that as soon as I heard you sing for the first time. All I had was that wish to be up on the stage like you, even if my hands were too dumb to handle my guitar like you did, even if my voice was too ordinary to make you notice me. All I had was effort, but no matter how much of it I had, it didn’t equal your talent.”

“What’s talent without effort?” You turn to look her in the eyes, surprised at the new tenderness in her eyes. Chae sighs. “As soon as I saw you, I found a kind of... hunger in you. It scared me, because people with the kind of drive you have surpass talent so easily.”

“So you hate me... because you were scared of me?”

“I don’t think I ever hated you,” Chaeyoung admits. I think I always wanted you to like me too is what she doesn’t say, but you accept her closing statement and stand, brushing your hands on your jeans before offering to pull her up. 

It’s not that easy, to overcome all the resentment she’s built up over the years against you, so brilliant and so strong even if it wasn’t what you really felt. But for once, that hot hatred is gone from her chest, no longer pumping through her blood into the hand that holds yours.

Chaeyoung can count on one hand the hours of sleep that she’s gotten by the end of the week. Between rehearsing endlessly for the reunion and then for the last two shows of the tour and texting you in all her free time, the guitarist is basically living off of her will alone.

And, of course, there’s the constant insecurity weighing on her mind that maybe she’s not cut out for this life anymore. After 5 years of L0VES1CK, maybe Chae finally needs a break, needs some time to nurse that “talent” that you tried to convince her has always shined in her eyes.

Nonetheless, she’s beaming from ear to ear as she steps off the stage, tearing her in-ear out so that she can wrap her arms around the necks of Lisa and Mina. “That’s the end!” she cheers, and Chan raises a fist with a tired smile.

“30 shows. I am so tired,” he groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you guys doing once you get home?”

“I have a date,” Mina says, blushing immediately when her bandmates turn to look at her in shock. “It’s nothing! Just Jihyo,” she insists, but the giddiness to her voice betrays her.

Chan sighs, cupping his face jokingly. “You and Chaeyoung? I was planning on going home and writing a new song.”

“It’s not a date,” Chae protests on impulse, earning an eyeroll from everyone else.

“I have one,” Lisa says, cackling when Chan turns a betrayed gaze to her. “I’m going to Jennie’s show. How about you, Chae?”

“I’m... not going to do anything related to singing,” she answers honestly. She’s a bit self-conscious as she says, “I’m just a bit burnt out, you know? My voice... the show hasn’t been kind.”

“Oh, of course,” Mina nods, squeezing her shoulder. “Maybe a break would be good for all of us. Let’s postpone the next practice for a month?”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth to agree, but notices that one of their five is missing. “Guys. Where’s Jaehyun?”

As if he’s been called, Johnny appears out of nowhere, with an uncharacteristically grim set to his jaw. “Guys, come on in. We need to talk.” The four walk in like ghosts, doom already pressing down on their mood even as they know nothing of what’s to come. 

Jaehyun avoids their eyes as he says quietly, “I’m leaving the band.”

Despite knowing that it’s not the right time, Chae’s eyes open wide, and she practically shouts, “What?”

“I just... I wanted to tell you guys for so long. But we scheduled the tour, and I thought I could do it, but... I don’t think this is the right path for me anymore,” he whispers softly. 

It feels like someone’s just sucker-punched Chaeyoung in the gut; as much as she loves all her members, Jaehyun is the one she started with. He’s the one born barely three days later than her, the one who busked with her despite going to different colleges, the one who came up with the idea to start a band at all. Never did she think that he’d beat her to the chase, and never did she think about continuing the band without him.

Tears are already slipping down Mina’s face, but she’s holding her tongue. Chan’s face is hidden in his hands, and Lisa has buried her face in his shoulder just so that she doesn’t have to look at everyone else. 

Chae whispers, “Jaehyun... please think about this. We can’t continue without you. We always said we were five, right? Please. We can take a break, we can, uh, stop taking tours for a moment, we can switch genres. Anything.”

It takes a moment for her to realize that her voice has risen, and Mina is crying harder. But she needs to be angry, someone needs to be angry. Chaeyoung can’t bear the sight of everyone only crying, of no one doing anything to keep themselves together. She’s reaching out and she’s shaking Jaehyun, and no amount of rage can keep her voice from sounding robotic.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and Chae almost cries out of relief. “But. I can’t promise how long it’ll be.”

“We’ll wait. Okay?” Chan says, even though his own voice is thick with tears. Jaehyun nods and wipes his face aggressively in his sleeve, and Chaeyoung steps back to let Mina have her turn at hugging the pianist.

One step back turns into ten, and then she’s out of the room, sinking to the floor just opposite of the door. God, Chae is crying so hard that she can’t breathe, and her hands are shaking as they reach towards her back pocket. Her fingers are stuck between the cigarette box and her car keys, between paper and metal, between warm and cold.

Her fingers wrap around the keys, and then she’s running again.

“Oh my god! Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

You smile, cringing inside as the fan holds a phone right in your face, her eyes shining brilliantly. “Yeah. Yes, I am.”

“You’re so gorgeous!” she screams, jumping up and down. If there wasn’t a countertop between the two of you, you think that she’d try to hug you or something similar. “Is Jeongguk here? Can I get a picture with him? Can I get a picture with you? Do you work here all the time?”

“Uh, no. I’m just working here today as a favor,” you lie, “and sorry. I’d rather not take pictures today. Jeongguk isn’t here either.”

Her enthusiasm dies immediately. “What’s wrong with a simple picture?” she asks, growing angry.

You refrain from saying that she’s been recording this whole time, only smiling tightly. Before you can even settle on what to do, though, you here a deep voice rumbling behind you. “I’m sorry, but if you aren’t going to order, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I don’t tolerate harassment of my employees, temporary or not.”

She scowls and tosses out a “fucking bitch!” as she leaves, and you sigh in relief before turning to Felix, whose face has morphed back into a sunny smile again, and Changbin, still scowling. You can always rely on Felix’s (overtly) deep voice to save you, and you’re sure that Changbin’s gym-trained muscle doesn’t hurt either. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime. Seriously, though, when you said you were in a band, I didn’t think you were that famous,” Changbin complains, turning back to the sink he fiddles with. “Jisung was bad enough in our underground days, and now we’re here.”

Felix laughs, high-pitched and happy, as he returns to his mop. Before long, the door jingles again, and you duck under the counter without another thought, leaving Changbin to stare incredulously down at you. “Uh. Is Y/N here?”

At the familiar voice, you bolt up again, turning around immediately to find a red-eyed Chaeyoung waiting for you. Your eyebrows knit together in concern. “Chae? What happened?”

She huffs out a breath, running her hands through her hair. She looks post-show, glittery tear tracks running down her face and studded boots still on, and you recall that she did have a concert not even an hour ago. “When do you get off?” Chae asks.

You raise an eyebrow at Changbin, who rushes to open the door for you. “Right now,” you say boldly, and take her by the elbow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m... I don’t think so,” she admits. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her-- the two of you were tentatively scheduled to go for coffee on neutral ground this weekend, but you’re more focused on being there for her while she needs it. “We’re disbanding. L0VES1CK, I mean.”

“What!? Why?”

Chaeyoung shrugs, having been successfully manhandled into the backseat of her team van again. “Jaehyun. He... he founded the band with me, and he wants to leave the band. I persuaded him to take a few months to think about it, but I feel like we’re over. Which is stupid, because I wanted to take a break too, but not like this.” She draws in a breath, and whispers, “Not like this.”

You place a hand on hers, a sad sigh leaving you lips. “Chae. It’s okay. You can feel bad about it even if you wanted to take a break too. Look... I don’t know Jaehyun very well, but I get the feeling that he really cares about you guys. I don’t think you’re over just like this.”

She stares at you through black-rimmed eyes, and you continue, “You’ve been working nonstop for five years. Maybe... take this as a blessing in disguise, right? Rest for the few months he needs, and keep checking in. You guys are still friends, he’ll either come back or tell you why. And you’ll feel better when either one of those happens.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

You shrug slightly. “Then he doesn’t. But you’ll still be friends, and you’ll figure out how to keep the band going if that’s what you still want. Do you still want to be in L0VES1CK?”

Chaeyoung nods. “Yeah. I really, really do. I’ve never known anything other than us, but...”

“But?”

“We’re not doing that well,” she says quietly. “Even as friends. We all feel kinda distant, especially me. And it’s my fault, because I insisted on being enemies with you for so long.”

Raising your eyebrows, you point at yourself. “What does being enemies with me have to do with it?”

“I mean, Lisa and Jennie are dating. Chan and Jisung used to rap together, and everyone else is on good terms. I was trying to pull them away because you made me insecure,” she confesses. “I did it all.”

“You did not do it all,” you respond, a bit forcefully. “Look, maybe your relationship is strained. But that doesn’t mean it’s unfixable, and it doesn’t mean it’s because of you. You guys love each other, a hiccup doesn’t just end that. You... okay. Here, I’ll drive you home, and then we’re going to watch some movies and forget about this for now. And then you’re going to talk rationally with them tomorrow about what to do,” you explain, unbuckling your seatbelt so you can move to the front.

Chae exhales shakily and squeezes your hand one last time before letting you drive. You turn the radio on, something cheesy and from the 2000s, and sing just a little bit, and Chaeyoung wonders how she could’ve ever hated you.

Somehow, Chaeyoung sleeps until noon, lulled to a kind of comfort that she hasn’t felt in all her years of tour bus beds and hotel rooms. The curtains are still drawn when she shuffles to the window; the reality only hits when she’s blinded by a bright white beam of light and a view that she doesn’t recognize.

In the sunshine, your room is much more apparently foreign; the bed is pushed up in a corner instead of in the middle, the walls covered in pictures of you and your members and posters from various tours. Chae barely suppresses a smile as she opens the door, poking her head out.

Unfortunately, the door opens right into the kitchen, where you stand, examining a packet of noodles suspiciously. “You’re awake,” you say dumbly. “Uh. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess.” Chaeyoung closes the door behind her quietly. There’s still a palpable awkwardness between the two of you now that she isn’t choking on her own tears and you aren’t being forced to console her; the guitarist supposes that all the years of enmity can’t be solved with a quick confession of long-standing crushes. “Are you making breakfast?”

You shake your head. “Lunch.”

She frown and runs a hand through her hair; belatedly, Chae realizes that the product from the last night’s concert is still stuck there, even if she did manage to remove her makeup before falling asleep. “Was I asleep that long? Sorry.”

“No, you’re good. I hope you’re okay with ramen, though, I forgot to go grocery shopping,” you smile, embarrassed.

Chaeyoung shrugs, “It’s fine. I can’t really cook either. Uh, could I use your shower?”

You nod and point down the hallway; Chaeyoung realizes that you must’ve slept in the couch, since the tiny apartment has exactly one bathroom and a room she occupied. Noting her imminent apology, you grin, “You can borrow more clothes of mine if you want. It’s kind of hot to see you in them.”

She grimaces, even though she doesn’t really mind. “I’ll put on yesterday’s, thanks. I should be getting home, anyway.”

“Alright. You can camp out here if you want to avoid them, though,” you say through a mouthful of chips, suddenly back to being thoughtful.

Chae glances back at you with a frown creasing the space between her immaculately done eyebrows. “How much did I tell you?”

“Enough.” You shrug, then say plainly, “I don’t hate you enough to broadcast your inner circle shit, though. I can promise you that.”

Instead of responding, the pink-haired girl fidgets with the jacket in her arms and asks, “You don’t mind if I stay here for another day? Just one.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face, lingering there for what Chaeyoung considers to not be enough time before you turn to work with your stove. “I don’t. I do have to supervise an open mic tonight, though, so you’ll kind of have to go if you’re intending on staying with me.”

“That’s fine. I hope there aren’t any cameras in the bathroom, or I’ll sue you.”

Your cackle echoes after her, later drowned out by the roar of your furnace. Chaeyoung lets herself crack a small smile before closing the door in on herself yet again.

As it turns out, your definition of letting Chaeyoung stay with you is ordering her around and sending her on errands until you’re ready to leave for open mic night. However, the guitarist can’t say that she hates it, even if she complains and tosses plastic bags at your head every chance she gets; maybe you know that she’d only feel worse if she were to lounge around at your expense.

She drives you to pick your car up at Changbin’s cafe as agreed, then follows you to the bar at which open mic night is being hosted. By the time she steps out of the car, you’re already conversing with a tall guy with a kind smile at the entrance.

Chae’s intercepted by a pretty guy barely taller than her, with a suspicious look on his face. “Sorry, but open mic night hasn’t started yet.”

“Minho, let up. She’s with me,” you call, and Chaeyoung tries to disguise the pleasant buzz she feels at the phrase. “Chaeyoung, this is Seokjin, he owns the bar. He’s friends with Jeongguk.”

Chaeyoung shakes hands with Seokjin and then with Minho, who’s now adopted a more pleasant smile. Again, you’ve started talking about all your plans for the event, your tone business-like and your expressions just as animated as when you’re performing; you disappear to take care of something eventually, leaving Chaeyoung at the bar with Minho, who makes nice enough conversation that she doesn’t really mind.

And eventually, people start to straggle in, the guitars slung over their backs or the crumpled papers in their hands making their purpose quite obvious. Jisung and Jeongguk join Chaeyoung at the bar, and she finds that she actually quite likes them, with the weight of your rivalry off her back.

She’s never really gotten the chance to just be there, not the center of attention or not struggling to keep her friend group together. Conversation is light and easy when she doesn’t know the people well, and with the various performances that start lining up, Chaeyoung finds a relaxation that’s begun to become foreign to her. 

“Hey, guys. How is everything?”

Jisung smiles and offers you a fresh beer. “Great. You’re really good at this organization thing, Y/N.”

“Do you do this often?” Chae asks, sipping at her own specialty cocktail. “Like, on your breaks?”

You shake your head, “We don’t really take breaks, but we don’t work as much as you guys do either. I’ve just started to do this stuff after Jisung introduced me to it and Jeongguk took me to this bar. I think it’s nice, to watch young people sing like we used to.”

“We’re in our twenties, Y/N, we’re not in the senior home,” Jeongguk snickers. He glances over at Chaeyoung. “Are you going to perform today?”

She shakes her head, a familiar tightness settling over her chest again. Thankfully, you intercept, “If she did, she’d never leave the stage. We’d only want to hear her sing. Hey, Chae, would you mind coming outside with me to pick up some cookies from the bakery? It’s just a few blocks.”

The guitarist takes the opportunity gratefully, stepping out with a cursory wave to Jeongguk and Jisung. “You okay?” you ask, once you’re in the cold night air again. “You looked a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m surprised you noticed. But I’m fine.”

You laugh slightly, “How could I not? For, like, the eight years that we’ve known each other, you’ve only ever looked overwhelmed or angry around me.”

Chaeyoung winces, and you sigh with a wave of your hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“No, no. It’s the truth. Us saying that we just wanted to be liked doesn’t make it go away,” she sighs softly.

Suddenly, you break from the cobblestoned path in the plaza, leaping towards a lamppost just a few feet away. Chaeyoung realizes that you’re reaching into your pocket and pulling out a flyer, advertising your next album showcase. “Already?” she asks.

“Mhm. Jisung churns out songs like it’s nothing, and we just try to have fun with them,” you shrug, twirling around the lamppost with your head tipped back. It doesn’t snow in winter, so maybe Chae is just imagining the bokeh that float around your head. “You okay? You’re out of it again.”

“Hm? Yeah. I was just... just thinking. What did you mean when you said that you wanted me to like you?” she questions on impulse.

You blink, surprised, and come to a stop. “I mean, you were the cool star student, of course I wanted you to like me. I wanted you think I was talented.”

The disappointment that courses through Chaeyoung’s body is honestly kind of stupid. She doesn’t know what she expected, and she smiles; she can’t deny that she did feel the same way. “Just that?”

“Well. No. I had, like, the tiniest of a crush on you throughout school,” you shrug. The shiftiness to your gaze betrays that you aren’t as nonchalant as you’re trying to seem. “Went away after I thought you hated me. Sorry.”

“Right. But you... you wanted to date me? In school?”

You smile, amused. “Yeah. That’s what a crush usually means.”

Chaeyoung swallows, hard. It doesn’t make sense-- why is this so hard? Why is everything so hard when it comes to you? “How about now? Would you- would you still go on a date with me now?”

Of course, you don’t make it any easier, coming to a stop and leaning against the lamppost with your hands in your pockets. “Ask me and see.”

She steps forward, then back, then forward again. It’s a stupid little dance, but one that you anticipate, judging by the way that you tilt your chin up and stare at her. So, before Chaeyoung can chicken out again, she steps up on the base of the lamppost too, presses you flush against it, and captures your lips with her own.

You smile and cock your head slightly to fit a little closer together, as if you always knew how to do just this. As if you had always been waiting to do just this.

Chaeyoung wakes up at seven in the morning to the frantic buzzing of her phone. In her daze, she notices that she’s in your bed, and she’s alone; the door to the bedroom is cracked open so that she can see you sleeping soundly on the couch, the curtains drawn so that you’re still in total darkness.

After a thought, Chae picks up on the call. It’s Lisa, though everyone including Johnny has tried to call her already. “Hello?” she whispers.

“Chae! You’re okay!” the girl says, a bit too loud for a phone call.

“Yeah. I am. Sorry for making you all worry, I’m at Y/N’s place. Um... we should talk.”

Lisa agrees, “We should. We’re all still at the practice room, so we’ll wait for you.”

Chaeyoung hangs up at that, getting out of bed as quietly as she can and arranging your comforter so that it’s neater than she found it. A small pang of guilt touches her heart when she realizes that she’s going to leave without an explanation, but Chae knows that you and your budding relationship are both better off if she settles things first.

She drives with a clear head now, even managing to hum to Jihyo’s song on the radio. (She makes a mental note to text her friend and compliment her, maybe even ask for a collaboration.)

Miraculously, the record shop that they usually practice in is already open, a few hours early; Chaeyoung realizes that her members must have stayed there overnight, hoping that she’d return to her old favorite stop.

Indeed, the store smells lightly of coffee, the lights in the back studio on and soft chatter trailing down the hallway. Lisa spots her first, and rushes to hug her tightly. “You’re okay,” she says, despite having already confirmed it.

“I’m sorry,” Chae whispers again. 

Eventually, she pries the bassist away from her long enough to join the other members in the studio. Mina, Chan, and finally Jaehyun all offer her hugs, quietly telling her how worried they were. Chaeyoung’s heart aches that she concerns them so much now, and she tells them that.

Chan waves it away with a forgiving smile, despite being the youngest out of all of them. “It’s okay. We’re your bandmates, and it’s our duty to worry about you.”

“Yeah, but... how long are we going to be bandmates?” The others all stiffen at that, and Chae clarifies, “I’m worried for us. I don’t... I don’t think any of us want to do this without one of us, even if we aren’t that close anymore.”

Lisa folds her arms, and shrugs, “I think a break could be good for all of us. But I don’t want to give up.”

“I don’t either,” Jaehyun finally says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you all thought so. I love L0VES1CK, it’s just been 5 years of nonstop working and performing.”

“I agree,” Chaeyoung nods, and all eyes turn to her.

“You do?” Mina frowns. “You were the one who was always adamant on continuing.”

The pink-haired girl shrugs, a bit embarrassed. She sighs, “It was... partially because of Y/N. It was horrible of me to drag you all into it, but I thought that if we always kept going, I’d be able to beat her someday. It wasn’t a competition at all, was it?”

They all shake their heads, and Chae continues, “If I’m being honest, I’m tired too. But we’re going to be friends even while we’re taking a break, right? However long it takes.”

“However long it takes,” Lisa agrees, and holds her hand out with the beaming smile that’s been missing for a while. “One, two, three!”

Everyone flings their hands up into the air with huge grins on their faces, laughter echoing in the room that minimizes the effect of the dark circles under their eyes. Just on time, Chaeyoung’s phone rings again, and she greets cheerily, “Who is it?”

“Well, don’t you sound chipper. It’s Y/N. Judging by your voice, everything is all good again, so I’m happy,” you hum over the line. “I’m just calling because my members and I are going to get breakfast, in case you want to come. Jisoo’s going to be there too.”

The guitarist raises her eyebrows at everyone else. “How about all of us?”

“-- and then Chaeyoung tells me, while crying, that Y/N took her second choice song,” Jaehyun finishes, laughing hard when you turn an incredulous look to Chae. “Seriously! Her second choice!”

“What if I wanted to switch?” Chaeyoung defends lamely, only earning a louder round of laughter from the eight others seated around the table. The food is practically finished, only Jeongguk still picking at a sundae, and it makes the guitarist uncannily happy to see everyone seated together and grinning at the stories.

“I think Y/N told me about this!” Jisung exclaims, sitting forward conspiratorially with his elbows on the table. You hide your face in your hands already, and Jennie grins brilliantly. “She said you were hot when you were angry, but she knew she would’ve been penalized for picking your first choice, so she picked your second to see if you could punch her. And, I quote, “I would’ve paid her to step on me.’”

You smack him, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, but the rest of the table isn’t nearly so considerate. Lisa and Jisoo are cackling, Mina’s eyes bugging out of her head as she tries to hide her laughter, and Chae is staring at you with her jaw dropped. You manage to say shakily, “I was being honest, okay? And I never thought he’d get the chance to tell you!”

Jisung grins and holds up peace signs, and you throw a french fry at him. “Jaehyun, please tell me you have an embarrassing story,” you plead.

Chan raises his hand, but thinks better of it when he checks his watch. “Actually, I think Mina has to get going.”

The drummer raises her eyebrows, then bolts up. She smiles apologetically, “I forgot I had a flight. I’m going back to Japan to visit my family while we’re on break.”

You collectively wave, then Jennie raises her eyebrows as she turns back to the table. “You guys are on a break?”

Chaeyoung nods, not bitter for what just might be the first time in the past five years. “Yeah. It’s about time, I think. Besides, knowing Chan, he’s going to ask us to record a demo every other week.”

Said producer rolls his eyes but can’t deny it, and you sigh with your chin in your hands. “Jisung doesn’t even ask us to record demos. He just does it all himself.”

Jeongguk raises an accusing fork. “You should’ve heard the time he tried to record a drum solo himself. He did the snare part on the bass drum with his foot.”

It’s the youngest’s turn to cover his face at that, shoved back and forth by Chan and Jennie on either side of him. “What’re you planning for your break?” you question Chaeyoung.

She shrugs and smiles, “Go out with you, of course.”

“On a date?” Jisoo suggests, raising her eyebrows. Leveled with two glares, she holds her hands up in surrender. “We’re all tired of seeing you pine, so just do it.”

Chae hesitates to answer the question herself, and she glances over to you. However, her gaze isn’t met; instead, you squeeze her hand under the table and say, “Then it’s a date. If it’s okay with you.”

“Are you kidding?” she asks incredulously; your face falls. Grinning, Chaeyoung presses a kiss to your hair and sighs, “I didn’t try to catch your attention for eight years just to say no.”

Lisa yells out loud, waving her hands in the air like Chaeyoung just said something utterly ground-breaking, and everyone plays along with it except the two of you. But you exchange a smile, one that you think was really, truly, worth all the effort and rivalry. “We’re probably going to continue with our tour again, though,” Jeongguk says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Hey, we should do a joint tour sometime.”

Chan raises his eyebrows, evidently intrigued. “Joint tour?”

“Yeah, we just do two or three songs at a time and a few together. It’ll make for a longer show, and fans can see us both at the same time,” the drummer answers with a shrug. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Jisoo replies, evidently surprised.

Chaeyoung nods. Even though the idea of going on tour again seems far, far away, especially with the break that they’re all supposed to be taken, she doesn’t hate the idea of it so much when she considers the idea that you’re going to be there with her every step of the way. “Sounds nice,” she smiles. “After your actual tour, of course. When does that start, again?”

“Probably in a month or so,” you shrug, then flash another secretive smile. “Plenty of time before then.”

The pink-haired girl lets herself blush now. “Yeah. More than enough.”

Chaeyoung fiddles with the lighter in her hand as she watches the staff load your suitcases onto the bus. She remembers the contents of all of them-- after all, she was the one that helped you pack. (Well, really, she just distracted you with glee-dizzy kisses while you stumbled over the suitcases.)

“Hey,” you greet her from behind, kissing the top of her head. The pink has faded away in the past month to a peachy blonde, dark roots streaking down almost artistically. “What’re you doing just sitting here?”

“You have to pay me to make me move things for you,” Chae grins, despite knowing that it wasn’t what you meant. She finds you staring at the lighter in her hand, at the white spot in the center where her thumb rests, and pockets it. “I wasn’t smoking. The lighter is a force of habit.”

“Okay. I believe you.” You peck her cheek again before stumbling off and shoving your duffel bag into the side of the bus again, bowing quickly and thanking someone before joining Chaeyoung again, hand clasped in hers as you grin at her. “Apparently, all of our shows got sold out.”

“That’s awesome!” she says, just the slightest bit surprised. “Did you settle on an opening act for NYC yet?”

You nod and lean in closer, whispering, “You won’t believe who it is.”

“Who?” Chae asks, pressing your noses together with a small laugh.

“Trivium.”

She outright gasps and almost bumps your faces together, drawing back just in time. “Seriously?”

You nod, giddily, and clap your hands together. “Just the one show. But, you know, we are missing an opening act for all the other shows.”

“I thought you didn’t need an opener for all of them.”

“Mm. We don’t. But I bet our fans would die to see us together,” you suggest, glancing over at her with a small smile creeping onto your face. “We can sneak in a little rendition of Love Me or Leave me, get the old rivalry going again?”

Realization dawns on Chaeyoung’s face, and she points at herself. “Me? Y/N, is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me to join your tour?”

“Yeah. But only if you want to,” you add. “And you don’t even have to sing if you don’t want to, you can just be my groupie.”

She shoves you. “Hey, I’m the sunbae here. Show some respect.”

You giggle and catch her hands in the middle of yet another halfhearted attempt to push you away, then capture her in a kiss; her hair falls in a pretty, pink-tinted golden curtain over the two of you. “Is that a yes?” you whisper.

“Yeah, Chaeyoung. Is that a yes?”

Chae glares jokingly at Jennie, who stands in front of the two of you with her hands on her hips and a knowing smirk on her face. “It’s a yes,” the guitarist decides, and you cheer. “I’ll go on tour with you. But just so you know, we’re still doing a proper joint tour eventually, Johnny and Jisoo are already planning it.���

“Oh, for real?” Jisung pops out of a different bus with a big, excited grin on his face. Chaeyoung still hasn’t quite gotten used to his enthusiasm, even if she can appreciate it a little more on her worse days. “Cool!”

“Mhm. We have about an hour before leaving, if you need to get anything,” you tell your girlfriend, squeezing her hand to catch her attention. “There’s space in my luggage carrier, if you just want some clothes and stuff.”

The pink-haired girl rolls her eyes as she stands, and tells you, “I’ve been touring way longer than you, I know what I need. I’ll get my lucky guitar and be back, okay?”

“Okay. Come back soon!” you yell at her retreating figure, cupping your hands around your mouth so that you can be heard across the parking lot.

“Man, where do I get a relationship like that?” Jisung sighs behind you.

You turn and grin at him, flourishing your hands in the air. You’ve truly never been happier, and you think it shows on both your and Chaeyoung’s faces. “Ç 'est la vie, my friend.”

He scowls at you and hits you over the head with a setbook. “Stop flexing on me. What’s it mean?”

Wiping the smallest bit of lipstick off your face, you only smile. “That’s life.”

[huenjin]

the study of relationships.

summary — college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. minho

genre — fluff, angst | volleyball!au, f2l!au, roommates!au

rating — nc-17

word count — 15k words

note — kinda excited to post this very long plotted fic on here because first long fic for skz !!! this fic is brought to you by hq, hyunjin's long blond hair and b me mv that we never got. please please do send me constructive criticism so that i can improve on my writing for this community. happy reading!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Your best friend, Hwang Hyunjin yells at the top of his voice, pitch lower in precision as you open the door and slam it shut forcefully, the sound loud enough to bounce to him clearly. Your feet storm hard against the wooden flooring of your apartment, sound bouncing off from that again and Hyunjin pauses his video game to look at you.

It's a familiar sight. Hyunjin sighs.

"Hey," he tries catching your attention but he fails. You storm into your room, hair flailing behind you in your anger, eyes blurry with the angst you feel that wraps slowly around your heart. You walk into the room and slam the door shut, so loud that a chip of wood breaks from the top of the door and falls down.

"Jesus Christ! Y/N—" Hyunjin yells to no one in particular. However, he drops his controller to the side of the couch and jumps to his feet only after pausing his game. He takes big strides to your room and in high contrast to his rash movements, his knocking on your door is very gentle.

"Can I come in?" He asks, scratching the door absentmindedly. He presses his ear and head against the door to hear a response but all he hears are your soft cries and it makes him sad.

"Y/N—"

"Go away, Hyunjin!"

"Y/N, let me in," he stresses, his leg kicking the air slightly, dangling before that. "I—"

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Will not." Hyunjin knows where this stems from and he won't deny. However, at this minute, he just wants to be there for you. Teasing could wait for an hour or so after you've calmed down. "So please?"

You hum and Hyunjin waits for a sign of protest. When he hears none, he takes it as an approval to open the door and the sight before him hurts him ever so slightly.

You are wrapped in a cocoon of your white blanket and your head is buried in the sheets outside, not ready to look up at your best friend. He frowns as he walks towards you, letting himself to sit by your side. He stretches his arm out and stops when you declare,

"I'm a world class dumpee."

"You are," he shrugs, voice tainted with a slight tease and you look up at him, glaring with your red, puffy eyes. You try shoving him but the cocoon you are wrapped in slightly falls forward too in impact. Hyunjin laughs and stretches both his arms forward to prevent you from falling forwards.

You pout, mumbling with a voice that is strained and is your proof of the urge to cry, "You promised you wouldn't."

"I'm your best friend," he shrugs and pushes your body wrapped in the thick blankets backwards, your head hitting against the pillow. A soft whine leaves your lips, followed by an oomph. "You knew I was going to tease you at the very first opportunity."

And then Hyunjin pounces on you, tickling your sides over the covers and your tickle sensitive being rushes in sensation as you laugh your heart out, chest heavy and mind focussing only on your best friend that you forget about the boy who broke up with you an hour back.

"Stop," you laugh. "Hyunjin," you whine. "Stop, you idiot," you laugh again. "I'm going to kill you—"

Hyunjin's laughter fills the air along with yours. In your perspective through your watery eyes, you see a boy with no worries and all smiles and you want to be like that. You desperately want to be like that. You push your wrapped body upwards to shove Hyunjin to the side and it works. He laughs, slowly receding with yours and he lets out a loud relieved sigh as he looks at your face with less creases and tears that now fall due to laughter.

"Hey," Hyunjin says and you turn your head to face him. His face is rigid, the childish gleam that he had just a while back long gone.

"Yeah?"

He sits up, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms soon after. "The guy was a jerk," he tells, helping you up. His hand finds the end of the blanket and unwraps it slowly from your being. "He was a mighty jerk, okay?"

"He is your teammate, Lee Minho," you stare, dead into his eyes and he shrugs.

"I know," he sighs before shrugging, giving you a nonchalant look. "What was it this time? Let me guess, he broke up with you for no reason again."

You hit the blankets that cover your thigh hard and send imaginary daggers in Hyunjin's way, "Yeah! I just don't understand why he'd break up with me."

"Uh, possibly because—"

"Is it because I'm on like close friend terms with everyone in the college volleyball team? I mean, Lee Minho always said dating—"

"Dating you would be hard, Y/N," Hyunjin continues, mocking your ex-boyfriend's voice. "You hang out with so many guys and all your best friends are dudes that it makes me jealous," Hyunjin pauses, placing his hands flat on the bed from behind as he leans back. "Ah, Lee Minho, that bastard. He always did say that to you."

You look down, fidgeting with your fingers and you roar out in anger. Hyunjin looks at you amused until you say, "Why can't guys be more like girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin's eyebrow is raised and he laughs mockingly. He lifts his arms from behind, stretches his back before sitting up straight. He kicks his legs and raises it upwards to sit cross legged, looking straight at you and laughs again. "You are totally kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not, Hyunjin," your eyebrows furrow. "The reason behind most, if not all, break-ups is the guy."

Hyunjin agrees with you deep down. Okay, maybe not completely but at least a ninety percent and that's a good one. However, he knows how competitive you are and if there's something that can get your head out of this post break up blues, it's this.

A competition. And so just to entice you a little, he sneers, "If anything, girls should be more like guys."

"Bitch, no," you laugh, head falling back at the sheer stupidity that rolls out from your best friend's mouth. "Men are so conceited that they had to make a whole word for treating women equal."

"Not all men simp. Plus, it's an AAVE and that people should not use it. In my defense, I've treated you like a guy my whole life," he shrugs. Lies. Lies. Lies he spews out endlessly because at one point, without him even knowing, things did change and he's seen you as a woman; as a woman he now has feelings for.

Hyunjin, to prove his point, hits you on his back like you've seen him do with all his teammates and your torso bends forward from your hips on impact. "See!" He stretches his arms, tattoos on display in the loose half sleeved black top he wears and you wince, stretching your hand back to rub only for Hyunjin to stop laughing quickly and rub your back, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Hyunjin," you shrug, mumbling, trying to guide your best friend. "Don't ever use the not all men tag, please."

He slaps a hand over his mouth, realising his error, again apologising and you stretch your hand forward quickly to protest, "No, no," you tell, "You don't have to apologise. I just hope you know how it sounds."

"I do," he falls back, lying down against your mattress. "I do and I hate that I accidentally said it."

You follow suit, and fall on the bed, hair splaying around, some falling on Hyunjin's face. He groans, moving the hair away and whining, "It got into my mouth, ew." You laugh.

Hyunjin speaks out, staring at the ceiling, "Whose fault is it that a relationship goes astray?"

"Still going to say the men," you look at the same spot he stares at. "They're—"

"It's a war."

"See!" You exclaim. "This is the issue with men. They cut us off all the time."

Hyunjin laughs, hand stretching out to hold your wrist to soothe you down and mumbling another apology, he continues, "This is a battle, Y/N; a battle that's aged long and has never come to a conclusion. The battle—"

"Get to the point."

"Look who cut me off now."

"Touché."

"Anyhow," he continues. "The battle between men and women."

"You definitely sounded like a prepubescent boy there," you look at Hyunjin. His skin is so clear, you notice, making a mental note to steal his skin care products later. He turns a second later to face you and he nods, "Don't care. Definitely going to win this."

"You wish," you let out a condescending laugh. "I'm going to beat your ass, Hyunjin."

"Kinky," he smiles that stupid, toothy grin of his, "I likey."

"You gross pubescent boy," you shove at his arms only for him to quickly hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours in the midst of the squabble. You let him, still laughing lightly, lungs light and mind free from all the sad thoughts.

"I see that I've got an upgrade."

"You did."

You're about to thank Hyunjin for this small gesture that probably seems to be nothing when his phone rings from the other room. The scary unexpected track to Tokyo Ghoul's opening – Unravel – that you can't help but accept that you've grown to like, plays.

He lets go of your hand and jolts upwards, jumping off the bed. A small whine leaves your lips unexpectedly and Hyunjin smiles at that. He pulls up the blankets over your body that he shifted, mumbling, "You should sleep early. You had a tough day."

"No," you whine yet again, "Let's talk more—" His phone rings louder, the scream part of the ringtone jolting you up and your hand falls on your chest in shock. "Hate when your phone does."

"And yet you sing along to it," he sings, humming the tune.

"Pfft," you scoff, holding onto the blanket, scrunching it in your grip. "Go. It's probably about the practise match against Yonsei University."

He hums in agreement, folding the blanket again carefully, right below your neck, his cold hands brushing against your clavicle and the temperature difference runs a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin switches off the light as he walks out, gently closing the door shut and you watch your best friend throwing a small smile at you before leaving. Did you really deserve all this care? Perhaps not.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, dashes out to get the phone before the caller cuts the call in frustration. He's definitely not spending the money to call back whoever it is. That shit is expensive. He jumps a couple of steps and grabs his phone, accepting the call before looking at the name of the caller.

"Hyunjin…" It's Lee Minho. "Can you come over?"

"I really want to throw a punch at you, you bastard."

And Hyunjin does. Virtually, of course. Over the game they are playing. He couldn't afford to injure a fellow teammate when the preliminaries are right around the corner.

"Bro," Minho sighs. "Can you go easy on me?"

His game character hits Minho's again, the energy bar of the other drastically going down on the screen. Hyunjin can't stop. The frustration that he has pent up over the last hour after seeing you cry and crumble over being dumped by his other friend drives him to the edge and he delivers another punch. Minho's character dramatically collapses as soon as the energy bar is empty and he drops the console by his side, pressing his back against the sofa, arms wrapped against his chest, pouting.

"I—"

"Go on," Hyunjin glares at him. "You better have a good explanation."

Minho runs a hand through his hair and sitting up straight, turning his torso to face Hyunjin, he tells, "I don't."

"You're lucky that we have a match soon, else you'd be six feet underground," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his hands over his head and folding it behind. "I can't believe you did that to Y/N."

"I fell out of love with her," Minho says. He doesn't dare to look at Hyunjin because he fears if the glares would actually result in him six feet underground. "Can't that be the only reason?"

Hyunjin chuckles, moreso at himself than at his friend, mumbling under his breath so low that Minho thinks it's just him humming, "Is it possible to fall out of love with her?"

He wishes Lee Minho could tell him how.

Hyunjin stands up, patting his denim jeans and looking at Minho, he warns, eyebrows furrowing, "I'll help her out with this. Just don't be a jerk and start dating in like two days."

"I—" Hyunjin glares at him. "Fine."

"Practice at seven," he adds and grabs the key of his motorcycle from the table before him. "Don't be late and act normal around Y/N."

"Fine, sir," Minho rolls his eyes. He won't admit it ever but the man warning him could be the reason for his breakup. That and his insecurity and fear of you cheating on him. But it's mostly Hwang Hyunjin. He knows how he feels even if you didn't.

Hyunjin walks out of Minho's house, closing the door on his way out and getting on his motorcycle, he rides back home to you. Just as he had promised you.

He opens the door to your room as soon as he enters his house, removing his shoes and placing it to the side, only to find his ears listening to the soft snores that let free from your lips. Carefully he walks towards you, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin lightly and tilting your head upwards to help you breathe properly.

He pauses for a minute just to watch you. Your eyebrows that you dislike so much just because according to you, it's not thick enough. He loves it however, even though you would never listen to him. Your eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on your high cheekbones and he gasps because you're so beautiful. You're so near to him and yet so far.

He bends forward, pushes your fringes to the side and places a soft kiss against your forehead, mumbling the words he wishes he could tell you straight up. Even if he did, you'd probably laugh and scoff at him.

"Beautiful girl," his lips graze the skin by your forehead, "You are a fighter. You have always been a fighter. You are stronger than you think. You are braver than you believe. Every challenge that life has thrown at you, you've conquered every obstacle that has been placed in front of you. You've overcome every single one of them. You are unstoppable and unbreakable and right now, you are filled with more faith than you have ever been."

Hyunjin pulls away, softly caressing the hair by the side of your face, "So please believe in yourself. You're worth so much love. So much of it, Y/N."

"The jerseys came!"

Bang Chan screams, a huge grin on his face as he opens the door for you. He runs to Felix and holds onto his shoulders before jumping up and down in joy. He is so delighted. "It looks so good, dude."

Hyunjin smiles, running towards you and helping you with the cardboard box. "It's alright," you mumble. "I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "And I'm your best friend. It's my job." He picks the huge box that covers your entire upper half, easily and places it down before the coach and the team.

Jisung rushes to your side, nudging you with his elbow, "We've got a pretty good manager." He bends down and rips open the box, taking his jersey in his hand, "Number 13, bitches. Nothing shows what an amazing libero I am like the number most feared." You laugh.

"Number 10 isn't that bad, I guess." You hear Minho's voice break through the cluster of voices and your movements still. You turn your head to look at the brown haired boy who towers over you, wearing a smile so pretty that your heart still skips a beat.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiles. "Thanks for bringing this over."

"Uh," you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze everywhere else besides at Minho. "I guess. It's my job, yeah."

Hyunjin notices. He always does. The boy runs towards you with his jersey. Number 1 printed in big behind. The setter brings the jersey so close to your face that it's buried in the fresh opened shirt. "Number 1, of course," he laughs, scrunching the shirt in his hand as he raises both his arms above.

"Oh, shut up, Jinnie," you laugh.

"Yeah, shut up, Jinnie," Jisung echoes. The middle blocker, though not the tallest in stature, is excellent at his position and has the biggest love-hate relationship with your best friend. He folds his arms and mocks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin places his right hand down on Jisung's head, ruffling his hair after pressing down on it. He scolds the older boy, "Don't call me Jinnie. Y/N's the only one who gets to call me that."

"Stop gathering around people," The captain claps his hands together to gather all of your attention. You quickly rush to his side and he smiles at you warmly, before looking at his team and glaring at each of them as they gather around him. "Yonsei University was kind enough to arrange a practice match with us thanks to—"

"Y/N," Jisung shouts, pivoting his arms by their sockets before lifting them both high above his head, cheering for you.

"Don't cut me off, Han," the coach shoots daggers at him, frowning visibly at the disobedience. "One more time and you're running around the gymnasium twenty times."

Jisung groans, only after winking at you. You chuckle under your breath, covering your face with the notepad in your hand. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, nudging Jisung to 'keep it in his pants' in the scariest voice ever. You could feel the dark clouds around Hyunjin, the aura darkening for a split minute before he breaks out into a huge smile as he looks at you.

The coach instructs out commands; strategies to help the team win against Yonsei. Moves that he's studied after watching their matches. You know this because you watched Hyunjin do the same at home. He does it at odd timings though.

You would wake up at three in the morning to grab a glass of water and you'd find your best friend squatting in front of the television as he watches every single one of Yonsei's matches. He wouldn't listen to you telling him to go to sleep because, "Being the captain is hard, Y/N. The whole team's banking on me to set the ball perfectly at the right time. I can't..."

And you understand. You understand the worries that go around in his head, the anxiety of being the best because he's no genius. He got to the top, made a name for him all thanks to his hard work and if he needs to keep it — he won't have it any other way — he swears to god that he would practise and study till he drops dead. Hwang Hyunjin loves volleyball that much.

So, you do what any friend would do.

You would make two cups of coffee, one for him and one for yourself. You sit next to him and watch the match with him. Your head lays back against the soft material of the sofa, just watching Hyunjin's eyes fixed on the screen, studying each movement of every player, gasping occasionally at how the setter of Yonsei's team leans his head back to decoy the opposite team only to dump the ball.

You don't remember much from that night because you fall asleep way too quick in the silence and in the presence of a focussed Hyunjin, your cup of coffee half empty. You don't remember anything from that night besides the fact that you woke up in your bed the next morning, or more like, Hyunjin waking you up the next morning because you overslept. Either ways, you were back in your bed and for that, you were grateful.

And as soon as the coach is done with the instructions, the team members scramble before splitting themselves into two groups, first to do serves and then perfect shots and finally, have a practice match.

You sit next to the coach, watching each and every member. That's what the previous manager told you to do. To observe. That's what the manager must do. To observe so well that you know each member well enough to know how their mind works, how their personalities are and who they truly want to be.

This is exactly why you can't seem to ever hate Lee Minho. Because you've seen him on the court, at his very best.

He's the best darn middle blocker you've ever seen. He doesn't tower that much over people with his height but when he jumps, lifting off his feet, he is as good as a wall cemented and strong before the opponent. He has only got better with every practice match and you realise that he wants to be better. And that's how he truly is. The constant urge to do better than the person he was before and perhaps, to Minho, you are someone he wants to leave behind in the past.

There's no one to blame here and you realise that it's a lot better if you accept the truth before it hurts you more than it should.

But then, in a second, Hyunjin takes your attention away whole heartedly. The boy arches his body so beautifully as he sets the ball for Jisung who slams the ball over the net with such force that leaves you gaping, notebook slamming your thigh. The coach stands up, his heels slamming the ground first before his toes do and he is as stunned as you are, eyes wide.

Funnily, Jisung's surprised too.

"We did it!" He says slowly, his words gradually making sense to him and when it does, he rushes to him, holding his shoulders and jumping ecstatically, "Hwang Hyunjin, we fucking did it!"

"When did you guys practice that?" The coach cuts the commotion short with his question. Hyunjin turns to face him along with Jisung, scratching the back of his head. Jisung is so overjoyed that he rushes to the coach, "Today morning! It sounded delusional but we pulled it off, coach."

You look at Hyunjin, who turns his attention back to you as soon as the coach is scrambling off to tell more instructions to Jisung on how he should time it a little bit earlier to hit it with even more impact. You smile, giving him a thumbs up and Hyunjin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you guys finally dating now that Minho's out of the picture?" Chan nudges Hyunjin. The man stumbles a step forward on impact only to quickly look at the older with eyes so wide that he wonders if it were possible.

"What?" He splutters the words out, voice haphazard after the cough.

"Everyone in the team thinks you guys should," Chan shrugs and Hyunjin's face morphs into that of seriousness almost instantly and shoots the other male with, "Did Minho hear of this?"

"Perhaps," Chan catches the ball Felix throws at him. The coach claps his hands to bring the attention back to him, barking out orders to resume the game. Chan pats Hyunjin's shoulders, "You know what we always tell, Hyunjin, in this sport—"

"Take the shot when you see the opportunity."

"Exactly."

"Or someone's going to block again," Chan sniggers and looks at Minho, who was trying his very best to avoid your gaze, "This time round, it could be someone better than our middle blocker."

You're picking up the volleyballs lying around when the guys go to shower and change, dribbling them slightly and smiling to yourself. A figure towers over you as they drop a ball into the huge bucket. You turn around to look up at Minho.

"Can we speak?"

"Do we have more to say?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"We can still be friends, Minho," you sigh, eyes closed. "I also won't be those annoying types to tell Hyunjin to stay away from you because you broke up with me. You should know better."

"I didn't mean that," Minho looks offended. "I wanted to apologise. I should have tried harder perhaps."

"You should have."

"I know," Minho sucks in his lower lip. "I really should have but you know—"

"Lee Minho," your voice is firm. "I've told you a gazillion times that Hyunjin and I are just friends, Minho. Somehow you made up this sort of weird thing in your head so don't drag me into this mess. This is yours."

Minho scoffs, "You're going to eat your words soon," and picks up another ball. You remember the task you had forgotten in the heat of the moment, rushing to pick up a ball to put it back. The rest of the team is slowly making their way outside.

"I doubt," you sigh, throwing the last ball into the bucket and dusting your hands together. Jisung's darting towards you, hands in the air. Minho moves to the side, gliding against the floor, making way for the shorter man to reach you, bubbling with such enthusiasm you wonder what the cause of it is.

"Felix is treating us!"

Ah, so that's the reason. You smile at Jisung, nodding your approval. You push the bucket to the side of the gymnasium with Minho's help and switch the lights off as the team exits the gymnasium.

"Lee Minho!" You hear a feminine voice through the air, your eyebrows quirking upwards automatically. Hyunjin walks to your side, sighing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket, mumbling so softly that you barely catch it, "I warned that asshole, God damn him."

Minho's face lights up in a way you haven't seen in a while and your heart is heavy. The woman, Irene — you hear Chan shout her name and wave at her — locks her arm with Minho's and walks with him, the man doing nothing to push her away. It shouldn't affect you. Not anymore now that the two of you have broken up and yet it hurts.

Hyunjin quickly pulls you away, preventing your eyes from lingering further even a minute more. His hand holds yours and he drags you to his motorcycle. You look down, biting the insides of your cheeks, alternating between the right and left every time you taste the copper of the blood.

"Your hand is so small," Hyunjin says. "Like look at how it fits into mine," he laughs, lifting your hand upwards as he clasps it tightly. He mumbles, "So small."

You break into a smile, watching Hyunjin tease you, momentarily drifting from the thought that upsets you and it leaves you wondering how Hyunjin does it all the time. He lets go of your hand, ruffling your hair as he bends lightly, "You've got this."

He quickly turns on the heels of his feet, pulling out the keys to his bike and igniting it. You hear Jisung scream from behind, "I thought you were taking me with you!"

Hyunjin screams back, "Carpool with the rest. I'm taking Y/N."

He lifts his leg, straddling the bike as he holds onto the handles, kicking the support free. He turns towards you and tells you to hop on and you do as he says. Your fingers hold his jacket, making sure you're not hugging him from behind. Minho's words run in your head and Hyunjin notices this small gesture of yours but he pays no heed. After all, it's been a while since he realised that what he has with you is better when it's platonic. He is too afraid to lose you.

"Jinnie," you tell him as he starts the motorbike, accelerating behind Jin who leads the way. You hear your best friend scream, "Yeah," through the loud winds that hit you.

You lean forward and speak closer into his ears, your jaw hitting his helmet, "Remember how I said the guys are to be blamed in a relationship."

"Yeah," he hints at you to proceed.

"Here's my first point. Minho back there," you point out. "It was that easy for a guy to move on. That easy," you stress your word. "While I'm here repenting if there was any way to get things back to where it was. However, there's no use in me trying because there's Minho with Irene like our relationship was a thing in the past."

"That doesn't mean he didn't care about you during the relationship. That's how guys are. They give it their everything when they're in the relationship," Hyunjin reasons and you laugh sardonically.

"You're kidding me, right? The girl definitely cares more. It almost seems so easy for the guys to break up and move on. Remember the time when you broke up with Lisa," you speak, raising your tone a little more so that Hyunjin can hear you. The motorcycle moving against the wind causes your hair to touch your mouth and you're spitting hair out facing the side. Hyunjin laughs, his grip on the accelerator tightening as he speeds up just a little bit, causing you to hold onto his jacket pockets a little tighter.

"Bro," Hyunjin mutters when you bring up Lisa. "I cried enough when she broke up with me, okay?"

"You did, for a day or two," you state. "The girl cried her heart out for a whole week. You went partying that Friday with Jisung!"

"Are we now using quantitative measurements to determine how deep our care and love is?" Hyunjin gasps, sounding very offended. "This reminds me why most relationships don't work. Because girls are shallow as fuck."

Hyunjin accelerates, missing sight of the speed breaker in front of him. It hurls you onto his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep you safe. A soft scream leaves your lips as the side of your face buries into his broad back.

"Sorry," Hyunjin apologises quickly. "Didn't see that!" Hyunjin prays that you don't move your arms away but you do and he sighs, face falling. He is glad that you can't see him. Your hand is back to gripping his jacket and head back in this battle of words you're currently having with your best friend.

"It's okay," you tell him. "What's not okay is how you think women are shallow."

"They are!" He takes a turn to the left. Your thigh muscles tighten as it straddles the seat, fingers digging into his side for support. "I mean, let's be real, sweetheart. You take an hour or more to get ready for college."

"Because I want to look presentable!" You hit his broad back and he chuckles.

"Lies! You're shallow!"

"Says the person who walks around shirtless at home and stares at the mirror, lightly touching your abs and saying perfect," you tease and Hyunjin turns to look at you for a minute with his eyes wide before he turns his attention back on the road.

"You saw that?"

"Of course. I see that every day."

"But you're watching the television, how?"

"Reflections," you state.

He's gasping. The motorcycle slows down as it reaches Pizza Alvolo. The pizzeria is adjacent to a pretty park and you can hear the birds chirp lowly right before the sun is ready to set. You jump off the motorcycle, dusting the denims covering your thighs and Hyunjin removes his helmet, hooking it to the handle securely.

The rest of the team are seated in the pizzeria already waiting for the two of you, waving at you as soon as you enter the place. You rush and sit next to Jisung who has been aggravatingly patting the seat next to him. Hyunjin sits opposite to you, next to Chan. He snatches the menu from him and the elder male whines at the behaviour.

You look around and notice that Minho hasn't reached the place yet. Not that it mattered to you. You will slowly learn to stop caring so much for a man and you will soon be able to look at him and think of only the fond memories and nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The minute you see Minho walk into the pizzeria, although not with Irene, you feel the ground slip underneath you. Jisung is nice enough — albeit not knowing of the whole pickle you are in — to hold your wrist and turn your attention towards the stack of pizza boxes that come your way as he gleams, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

You look away from Minho and toward the direction Jisung points before turning to look at Hyunjin who lets out a loud sigh. You know that he's clutching at his thick thighs, nails digging into it at the sight of your uncomfortability. Hyunjin knows it will take you days to get over this break up, maybe weeks and that as a good best friend, he should wait. He should understand.

But it frustrates him so much. The sight of you being in pain, in hurt because of another man — his other best friend at that — pisses him off way more than he thought it should at first.

Hyunjin quickly takes his phone out and you narrow your eyes at him, mouthing, "Rude. Put it back into your pocket." In a second, your phone dings and you take yours out. Minho sits by Jisung's side in that second, a seat away from you and your heartbeat accelerates. You unlock your phone to see a message from Hyunjin and you lift up your head, raising an eyebrow at him and he eyes at you to open the message.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. You don't respond immediately, locking the phone and shoving it back into your pocket. You smile at Hyunjin, trying to signal that you were alright so far. Jisung opens the cardboard boxes of the pizza and squeals. Chan looks at the situation, analysing if it'd be bad for the team on a bigger approach. Hyunjin might be the captain but had it not been for Chan's guidance, the volleyball team would not have lasted a day more with the differences.

Felix announces, "Eat to your heart's merry! I might never treat again." He takes the first bite for courtesy's sake before telling everyone to join in.

The team laughs and Minho smiles, the skin by his eyes wrinkling and your heart stops to remember all the reasons you were so madly in love with this man. It is at this minute you realise it'll take you maybe a little longer than you thought, a little longer than a casual fling and a little lesser than a long term relationship. You should have known this is bound to happen the minute you allowed yourself to let your petty emotions take over.

And maybe, just maybe, it is the fact that you have to pretend to be alright with having Minho around you that makes this heartbreak pain ten times worse.

Surprisingly, Hyunjin already seems to know because he doesn't stop glancing at you after every bite of the slice he has in his hand.

You stretch your arm out to take a slice of the pepperoni pizza on the table at the same time Minho stretches his arms out to take one. Your fingers brush against his and you jolt your hand backwards, mumbling, "Sorry."

Jisung laughs without knowing and teases, "Why would you apologise for brushing your boyfriend's hand?" He takes a bite of his pizza and as soon as he finishes chewing, he continues, "I mean, you guys do nastier stuff and suddenly, you all are prim and proper, Y/N. Love the contrast you exhibit. It's beautiful. You guys could be at it every time I catch you in the gymnasium alone. Also, you're his longest relationship. You should pride yourself—"

Jisung is speaking and you won't look up. Hyunjin has dropped the knife slightly just to try and get him to stop, though in vain and Minho's looking at you. His eyes won't leave your frame and you just want to leave. It is too early for you to be alright with this. Way too early.

"Stop, Jisung," Chan tells him, reading the situation in the room.

"Why?" Jisung's laughing. Felix understands by now, seeing your face hung down and so does the rest of the team besides the man himself. You can't even come to be angry at Jisung because he seems so innocent, unaware of it all.

You spill the beans for your own heart's safety, "Minho broke up with me."

Minho doesn't shift his eyes at anyone else and Hyunjin holds the knife again, a little too tight this time. Jisung's smile turns instantly into a frown and he turns his head to glare at your now ex-boyfriend.

He doesn't bother to filter his words. "Why the fuck did you do that, you arsehole?" Minho turns to look at Jisung for a split second before his eyes are back at yours. You lift your head to lock gaze with him and you feel your chest tighten, eyes water and it hurts.

Everything seems so much more painful.

Chan says once again, his voice firm, ready to not listen to one more word of the conversation, "Stop it, Jisung. Read the room."

You stretch your arm out to have another bite of the pizza and everyone eats in silence. The room is pregnant with the most awkward silence you had been in your whole life. You take your phone out, unlocking it and finally replying to the message.

Jisung puts another slice of pizza onto your plate and you smile at him. Felix tries breaking the uneasy tension by talking about this dude he met in his neighborhood that was kind of cute. After sitting for another two minutes, you push your chair back to Jisung's surprise and stand up. Hyunjin stands up instinctively, his calves pushing his chair back and everyone at the table looks at the two of you.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

"I just realised I have to do some grocery shopping," you laugh nervously. "There's absolutely nothing back at home. Not that Hyunjin would buy anything and keep, right?"

Hyunjin chuckles and everyone in the room knows quite obviously that you are trying to escape the scene. They are kind enough to let you. Felix asks, spilling the oregano seasonings on top of his pizza slice, "Is Hyunjin going with you?"

"Ye—"

"No," you cut your best friend before he can give his approval. "I'll go alone." You stretch your arm out, palm facing upwards, "Keys, please?"

"Don't hurt my baby," Hyunjin's sincerity is voiced and you laugh genuinely. Little did you know he meant both you and his motorbike. He drops the key to his motorbike onto your hand and you do a little cheer. Jisung mumbles, "Cute," before stuffing his face with pizzas.

"Have a good time, guys," you wish them and grab your bag, hanging on the chair. Jisung waves enthusiastically. Felix, Chan and the rest of the team waves too. You smile fondly at your team and walk towards the door only to find Hyunjin following you.

"What do you think you are doing right now, mister?"

"Can't I walk you out at the very least, woman?" Hyunjin gapes in dismay. He pulls open the glass door and you laugh.

"Sure thing," you say and walk towards his motorbike. Hyunjin leaves the door after stepping out, the glass door swinging back to shut itself. You swing your legs over his bike, straddling the automobile and dropping your chest slightly to balance the heavy vehicle.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't you trust your teaching? You taught me how to ride this thing. Don't worry."

You look over Hyunjin's shoulder to see Minho still looking at you, worry smeared all over his face and you feel your throat constricting again as you do your best to tear your eyes away from him.

Hyunjin takes a step closer, making sure everything's alright with the vehicle so that it doesn't endanger you. He places his hand over your wrist and you look at him in confusion, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," you laugh. "What are you? My daddy?"

Hyunjin stiffens for a minute before he lets go of all the inappropriate thoughts that fill him for a minute there before teasing you, "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"Nah," you throw your head back. "You aren't that rich enough." You place the helmet over your head and look at him. Hyunjin taps your helmet and hugs you slightly.

"I'll see you at home."

You start the bike on ignition and look over Hyunjin's shoulder one last time to look at Minho, locking gazes with him before you pull yours away from him towards Hyunjin.

You look ahead, the clear road in front of you and turn the accelerator only after telling Hyunjin, giggling slightly,

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Hyunjin, on the other hand, is too caught up in his worry, eyes lingering behind the trailing presence of yours that finally disappears from his sight into a speck that fades away. In any other circumstances, he would have found your petite figure driving the huge motorcycle and you even calling him daddy, although in a teasing tone, insanely hot.

Right now, however, he just hopes you are safe. He wishes he could be by your side at every second.

Gaho's Stay Here blasts on the bluetooth speaker. Hyunjin pulls open the door only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with the most emotionless face he has ever seen you with. His eyes dart towards the empty bottles of soju on the small table in the hall.

"Y/N?"

You sit up, looking at your best friend and your lip pucker out quickly pouting at the sight of him and you stretch your arms out wide, squealing, "Hyunjinnie. You are home."

Hyunjin walks towards you, plopping on the couch and sitting next to you. He quickly lifts his arm up, hand darting back and forth at the air to steer the smell away as he frowns at you, "You reek of liquor, dude."

You quickly hug him, wrapping your arms around his frame from the side and snuggling your face into his shoulder. Hyunjin stiffens under your grip and he looks down at your being with eyes closed and he realises that you might after all just be a small being in need of some loving. He wishes to be the person to do that. Hwang Hyunjin utterly and truly wants to be your person.

Hyunjin takes your phone to stop playing the music — Stay Here that's been currently playing on repeat for the twentieth time straight — and you whine against his skin, tickles running down Hyunjin's spine.

"Don't stop the music," you mumble and Hyunjin looks at you and your figure that hugs him securely, head snuggled by his neck, chin digging into the skin by his collarbone and all Hyunjin can focus on is his heart that is beating furiously against his chest.

"Y/N," Hyunjin's voice seems like an anchor to your woozy mind and you hug him tighter, gripping stronger on to his white shirt. You hum in response and Hyunjin continues, "Gaho's music doesn't seem very fitting for the minute."

You pull apart, your face morphing and changing into that of offense as you glare at him, mumbling, "Gaho is the only one that understands me." You play the music again, the bluetooth speakers blasting with the sad slow tune in the air and you feel the want to cry all over again.

You stretch your arm out to take a soju bottle from the table to down it all out when Hyunjin stretches out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He locks his eyes with yours and in the softest, most caring voice you've ever heard from him, he says, "Don't, Y/N. It hurts me too."

"Can I hold you?"

In a split moment, the room is filled with just the soft beats of Gaho's Start Over playing, your raspy breaths and Hyunjin's lost stare. His grip on your wrist tightens and your mind is far too intoxicated to think if this friendship could be ruined. Your heart is heavy, chest tight and you want someone to free you. Anyone. You are clawing at the imaginary wall all by yourself and anyone could be a help. Anyone that is not Lee Minho.

"Yes," and you fall on Hyunjin at the exact same moment he pulls your hand closer towards him. The timing seems to have lapsed on to each other. Your chest on Hyunjin's, eyes looking up at him as your arms snake slowly over his torso. You snuggle forward, rubbing against his body slightly and Hyunjin sighs.

To Hyunjin, the scene is a lot dramatic just because of the soft music playing and because you are drunk off your head according to him, barely able to make decisions. He just doesn't want to do anything that will make either of your friendships but right now, in this minute with you almost on top of him, locking your eyes in his, your arms around his torso, close enough to feel every part of your being, he wants to be drunk too.

Hyunjin wants to be drunk so that he can make a mistake. Hyunjin wants to be so drunk that he can't think just because he is a coward.

"Do you feel better?" He asks and you snuggle into his chest, burying your face into it as you hold him. Your lonely heart being comforted by just his presence and in the back of your drunk head, you know you feel a little bit more that causes your heart to flutter when Hyunjin cares.

You and Hyunjin are both cowards — two small people in this big world with big emotions unwilling to risk one status for another, over the fear of losing each other.

But Hyunjin wants to risk it tonight. After years of pining, he wants to risk this golden friendship he has shared with you for years now. You are the trigger, however. You lift your face away from his chest and crawl slightly towards him, pushing yourself against him. You look at him, lips pressed together and you stretch your right arm upwards to hold his face in your hand.

"Jinnie," your voice lets out his name in such an airy tone that it seems to disappear away even before it reaches his ear. His eyes are glassy and his heart is in his throat, eager in nothing but anticipation that is risen from all his hoping.

It happens as he has imagined. You lean forward so slowly that he pictures every second vividly and in an instant, your lips are on his. Hyunjin knows it should have felt wrong but God, save him — nothing felt more right than this.

You kiss him and his whole world falls away. It lingers, like a memory that stays behind. Your lips are slow and soft against him, comforting yourself and him in ways that words would never be. Hyunjin's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss. Something so small and insignificant to seemingly anyone else yet it means the whole world to Hyunjin. It is the whole world to Hyunjin because this is all that is needed to let him astray, hinge released of the stupid restrictions he has made up in his head over you.

Your small kiss is all Hyunjin needs to hold on to because in the next minute, he is pulling you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your coral ones. You let out a small gasp and run your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute.

Hyunjin's lips are slammed against yours, nearly knocking all wind from your lungs and you don't know if it is your feelings or Hyunjin himself. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth. Hyunjin kisses you like he thinks it is the last time he will ever be able to have his lips against yours.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant, you pull away and arch up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against your own, before you draw back into his lips. Hyunjin can feel the burn of hard soju in his mouth, thanks to you, and it rolls off your tongue into his, seeping down  his throat and he can't hate it. There is a thrill in its own that Hyunjin knows stems from you.

If it was possible, Hyunjin would slow down time.

You pull back eventually only to hug him, humming against his neck, lips pressed against the soft expanse of his skin. Hyunjin's hand is pressed against your back as he pats you in a steady rhythm, instinctively humming to a tune that could calm you.

"Jinnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," and he feels your weight fall on to his shoulder as you snuggle closer into his neck, your warm breath fanning against him, sending shivers down his spine. "For everything."

Hyunjin holds you for a while, silence and nothing but your breathing that is soft music to his ears, till he hears your soft snores buzzing against his eardrums and he knows you have fallen asleep in his arms, against his chest.

The next morning, you find yourself magically in your bed, comforter on top of you covering every inch of you, head aching thanks to your reckless drinking last night with no memory of whatsoever that happened. Lightheaded you should have known better.

Hyunjin chooses to be a coward, the morning after.

The greens that cover the campus is the only other thing that keeps you sane in this university. The first being, the volleyball team. However, you don't know anymore if it is still, in the present.

You sit on the same bench before a beautiful fountain with a tiger head right in the centre, watching the vast basketball court. A place that holds way more memories to you now than it did a year before.

You shake your legs, feet pointing forward as you listen to music with about half an hour in your hand to waste before you head down towards the gymnasium to meet with the volleyball team. Besides few people that walk down towards their classes, the campus looks pretty stranded as you watch every single person stay happy in their sphere.

"Y/N," you hear your name being called out through yet another one of Gaho's songs and you lift your head up, to look at the person by your side, standing and providing you the shade they probably didn't intend to.

It's the man himself, the one who broke your heart for an explanation that made no sense to you. Lee Minho.

He stands tall, towering over you and your neck aches from looking up at him that you decide to stand up, removing the earbuds and placing it on the wooden bench, next to your phone.

"You're here." You gulp. "Aren't you supposed to be headed to the gym for practice?"

The fountain is everything you associate Minho with — moreover, it is perhaps the relationship with him that you associated the beautiful water fountain with. To see the very same man before you right now is needless to say surprising.

"I could ask you the same thing," Minho chuckles. He takes out a small cone of butterscotch ice cream and extends his arm, offering it to you. You smile softly, thanking him, sitting down back on the bench. "Can I sit here?" He asks and you nod, unwrapping the wrapping paper around the ice cream.

"Yeah," you tap on the seat by your side. You take a bite of your ice cream and Minho visibly flinches, mumbling, "Still the same."

"You broke up with me like two days back. What did you expect? A nirvana attained me?" You scoff. You take another bite of the ice cream, the sensitivity hitting your teeth and you hiss.

"Brutal," Minho chuckles darkly. You scoff, turning your head away and taking another bite of your ice cream. Minho opens his ice cream and you raise an eyebrow at him, mumbling, "You don't eat ice cream though."

"Thought you might want another one," he smiles and the thought of a second ice cream lights you up. "There you go smiling like a dork as always at the thought of it." Minho laughs and you bend forward to take it, your left arm stretching forward. Minho tugs it backwards and your body moves a little more to grab at it until it's too far for you, bringing you to your present position.

Your hand is on Minho's chest, his eyes locked in yours and you are surprised. This is not in your to do list and yet with Minho's grip on your wrist, you drop your ice cream as soon as he edges closer. His face is so close that you can see the perfect plump lips pout slightly, his face glistening in the bright sun and you gasp softly. It has been a while since he has been this close and he still makes your heart go livid within you, beating crazy.

He drops his ice cream in a second, his hands pressing forward to cup your face and pull you into him to kiss the living hell out of you. Your eyes widen, arms falling limp on either side as you stiffen.

"Can I try something?" He hesitates, iron grip on you.

"Try?" You look worried and the next minute, Minho is kissing you, his plump lips on yours for a while before he moves them against yours, taking hold of your lower lip.

It is an instinct. You choose to blame it rather on instincts. Your hand moves to grab the linen draping his arm as you hold it and kiss Minho back. It is as bitter as coffee thanks to all the memories that go along with it and yet — you find yourself drowning. You find yourself wanting more. You find yourself hoping if Minho could stay, if Minho could just pretend to love you, if not.

And it breaks your heart.

All over again.

A lone tear leaves your eyes and then another, till you are crying as you kiss him. A wet messy affair at its finest. Minho pulls back in surprise feeling the wetness against his skin. He cups your face and holds you, looking at you to check for damage — little does he know of the emotional one. Or maybe he does and he chooses to ignore. Typical Lee Minho.

"Did I hurt you?"

Your emotions take over, sanity pushed to the back. You are pulling yourself from Minho as he tries to hold you to calm you down. Your fist plummets down onto his hard chest once and then, for the second time till you are hitting him over and over again till you completely break down in front of him. Minho quickly pulls you into a hug, holding you close till you completely soak his white shirt with your tears.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" It's a repeated chant. Over and over again till you don't remember how many times you told Minho the same thing. Your mind goes insane with the overdrive of emotions. Did you like Minho still? You don't know. You don't know whether it's the familiarity of his hugs or his kisses or his whole presence that you crave or if it's his love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and you accept because it's the first time an apology from Lee Minho sounded this sincere. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart." He snuggles into the crook of your neck, swallowed by guilt. Perhaps this is why one should never date their friends; because you lose something much greater.

"I hate you more now for kissing me here," you manage to say, throat rasp from the crying. "How could you stain this memory too? How dare you stain the memory of the location of our first kiss? It was supposed to be a bittersweet memory when I sit here and think." Minho is still hugging you.

"I'm sorry."

It is still bittersweet in a new way, you realise — the fact that Lee Minho kisses you for the last time, you swear to God, in the very same place he kissed you for the first time. The weather changed, the people around changed and the emotions changed. Even after all that, the fountain stays proud and mighty and bears witness to more new relationships and new heartbreaks. Nothing changes besides you. Nothing changes besides what we want.

You pull away from him. Sitting straight, facing the vast basketball court and the juniors playing the game, you make a decision, firm and determined. The soft pink petals fall down from the cherry blossom trees over the two of you and Minho looks at you, and then at the spilled ice cream. To see the boughs that were so bereft in the snow become so beautifully adorned should lift your spirits infinitely and it does slightly. Their scents diffuse in the warming breeze and you hold your head high to savour it.

"Let's stay away from each other for a while."

Minho's eyes shoot up, head lifting up to face you. He does not refute. After all, he knows he has to take a step behind after breaking your heart. What he does not understand is how the two of you could stay away from each other when your friend circles overlap to a large extent.

"How?" He finally asks. "How do I help you with that?"

"By doing just that. Give me space and time to get over you. I'll come back asking for your hand in friendship again," you smile. Your tear stained visage and the difficult smile you put forth is a funny combination but you manage to pull it off well, you'd say. "You don't have to take the first step this time. Let me do this on my own, Minho."

You stand up on your own, grabbing your earphones and your phone. Minho stands up, following suit and asks, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," you turn only to look at him as you walk backwards. "And you have to head for practice. So get going. I won't have you mess up your performance by all means." You turn back and move ahead. From everything.

"You know I wouldn't," Minho screams back and the last syllable ends with a laugh. You lift your hand to wave and you leave, far, far away from him.

You now have an open wound to stitch back and you know you have to do it on your own.

Hyunjin's phone rings right when he decides to serve the ball. He drops the ball in surprise, the sphere rolling all the way to where his phone is placed. Chan groans, stopping his pace at the sound of the phone ringing, and yells, "Yah! Hyunjin, how many times should I tell you to switch off your phone?"

Felix walks in exactly at that minute, laughing, "Anyone from outside would totally think Chan's the captain!"

Hyunjin runs to his phone, his blond hair strands falling forward, ponytail swinging left and right. Felix laughs at the sight, walking towards the ball and picking it up before throwing it at Chan who catches it swiftly. Hyunjin sees your name on the phone, eyes lighting up instantly and a smile prominent only for Chan to announce, "It's Y/N."

"Of course, it is," Felix scoffs. "Where's the rest of the guys? I thought you said we were to come early—" Felix pauses, eyes widening and gasping, "Hold up! Y/N is late. Whoa!"

"They are probably running towards the gym right now," Hyunjin says before picking up the call. He mouths to the rest, "It'll be short, I promise," and pouts. Chan sighs, only to smile and wave his hand at him to take the call.

"Y/N," Hyunjin cheers up instantly. "Where are—" He hears a choked sob from the other hand and Hyunjin stiffens, face losing the smiling in a second. "Are you alright?"

"I am," you strain it out. You barely manage through with the chokes and that pain that ripples through in waves but you eventually find the words to tell him, "I won't make it to practice today. Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

Hyunjin is angry and he doesn't even know who it is aimed at. He is just beyond mad at the fact that you are crying and someone made you cry. The thought of the skin by your eyes aching and eyes red and burning over anyone made him so angry that he could punch a wall through.

"I'm not telling you," he hears you say and he clenches his fist.

"Stop being a brat, Y/N," he stresses and Chan gestures at him, asking if there was something wrong. Hyunjin nods. "Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, Jinnie," you tell him through the phone, "Please,"  and his eyes widen before he calms himself down, realising that you are trying to cope all alone, a pathetic self-destructive quirk of yours that he had learned to live with after all these years. He gulps and realises you truly needed time alone and he hums in approval.

"Please reach out to me when you need me," he begs. "Please, Y/N."

Felix and Chan are staring at Hyunjin in worry when the door to the gymnasium opens and Jisung rushes into the room. He is panting and he looks around, searching for someone. Hyunjin turns away, his attention back on the call in his hands and he ends the call quickly, making a note in his mind to check up on you after practise. Not that you would let him miss practise. (Not that Hyunjin would do it to himself in the first place. He'd kill for volleyball.)

He walks towards the rest when Minho walks in, black duffel bag on his shoulder. Jisung is quick on his feet as he runs towards the other man, hands on his shoulders and he shakes the living hell out of him.

"He's gone crazy, dude," Felix mumbles and Chan laughs.

Hyunjin stays at a comfortable distance still, looking at his phone in worry every now and then. The man lifts his head and brings his attention back to the present only when he hears your name leave Jisung's mouth.

"Whoa, dude. You got back together with Y/N?"

"What?" Chan is the first to respond. "You did what?"

"I didn't get back together with her," Minho says, his voice is monotone and lacks anything more than nonchalance and it pisses the hell out of Hyunjin who has his fists still clenched tightly.

"I saw you kissing her but. . ." Jisung drops the bomb all at once in such a lost way that he doesn't realise the impact it was to have in this large gymnasium.

Hyunjin is charging forwards all at once, yelling, "You bastard," as he throws a punch at Minho. The blond dyed man is quick to put two and two together and realise that you are after all, crying because of the black haired man before him.

He pushes him back, Minho hitting the floor and Hyunjin's on top of him, punching him with his clenched fist, mind void and painted in hot red anger. Minho has his arms, blocking his punches and chooses to play on the defensive side.

In fear, we are all monsters. Hyunjin believes that he would be afraid of himself had he astral projected and looked at himself in this minute, all unhinged because of one girl — one girl he would set the world on fire for.

All that rage comes out faster than magma for Hyunjin and is just as destructive. More so because he's the captain. It consumes all that he is, so delicate under that carefully ordered world and carefully put up feign that he is alright with Minho breaking the heart of the girl he loves. Minho shrivels before him but Hyunjin does not stop. He relentlessly keeps going, stopping short of physical violence but doing far more damage with the words that he throws.

Chan tries to pull Hyunjin away as Jisung drags Minho from underneath him. The black haired man is left with bruises and a busted lip. On the other hand, Hyunjin is still fuming, along with Chan, sporting a few cuts from Minho who decided to throw a few punches in the last moment.

"Can you all stop?" Felix sighs.

"Why would you bastard make her cry again?" Hyunjin raises his voice. He's yelling at this point, loud enough for everyone passing by the gymnasium to hear. "Why the fuck would you make Y/N cry again? I told you to leave her alone!"

"This wouldn't have happened if things went different—" Hyunjin tries to rush forward to hit him again upon hearing his words, but Chan and Changbin, another teammate, have a strong grip on him. His blond ponytail lashes in anger and he fights against the two, trying to let go of himself. Minho yells back, "I would have never broken up with her if you never liked her, Hyunjin."

"What?" He stops still in his tracks, limbs falling and Chan lets go.

"How am I supposed to think it's alright for you to randomly stare at my girlfriend with heart eyes? For fuck's sake, you guys hug way more than I hug her," Minho glares, chest rising up as he vents everything he has bottled up so far. "If you had always liked her, you should have told me! I shouldn't have overheard it from Chan telling you to ask her out." Chan's face pales visibly. "I would have tried making her stay. I would have made her stay. I would have," Minho's voice lowers. "I still did, but I was too late."

Hyunjin has no words to refute. His eyes widen and his heart is in his throat, barely being able to say, "You could have taken it out on me. Why would you drag her into this? She loved you. She still wavers because of you. Your faithless love was the only hoax she was forced to believe."

Jisung pouts in awe at the words Hyunjin spills and Minho mumbles, "I don't know. I couldn't think straight."

Felix drops the ball with force, suddenly. The ball squelches before raising high and hitting the wall with impact. He folds his arms and speaks up, "Stop acting like kids." He points at Minho. "You, stop putting the blame of your failed relationship on Hyunjin. Him liking Y/N did not ruin your relationship. You killed it yourself."

"But he—"

"I liked her even before you made a move on her. Nothing has changed, Minho," Hyunjin inhales sharply.

"It's because you're a coward, you arsehole."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, looking away, mumbling, "Not going to even bother denying that. I'd be dating her if I wasn't this scared of losing her."

Felix proceeds to point at Hyunjin, glaring sharply at him, "You call yourself a captain? We have a match in a few days and you decide to lose control and beat up your teammate? One of the best middle blockers out there! What in the world are you thinking, Hyunjin? Jesus Christ, when Y/N hears of this, she's going to beat you up so bad for doing this to him in the name of the team."

Hyunjin doesn't dare to look up at Felix, shuffling the balance of his body from one feet to another. He is embarrassed. He should have never let his emotions take control of his body and yet he did.

Chan walks towards Felix before announcing, "We'll start practice in five. I want the two of you to sort this out by the end of this day. If you haven't, I don't want either of you coming to practice tomorrow."

"I'm the setter!" Hyunjin protests.

"Jeongin can do a darn good job too, so shut up and listen to me well."

"Now," Felix claps his hand, smiling once again brightly before running to pick up the ball. "Let's practice like the perfect team we are!"

"And like I couldn't stop myself. It's like something dragged me to move forward and the next thing I knew, I was on top of Minho—"

"Fuck, that'd be hot."

"Y/N, focus. And like I was beating the crap out of him."

You dab an alcoholic swab over the small wounds on his face as he seethes in pain and you sneer, "Deserved it."

"Ouch," Hyunjin fakes offense. "Side with me at least now. You aren't dating him anymore." You stop, your hand midair and you dab constantly over his wounds till Hyunjins screaming, "Ow, ow, ow. I'm sorry," and holds your wrist and pulls it away.

"But you messed up your team dynamics just because of your anger," you frown. "You and Minho better sort it out quickly, Jinnie. Else, I swear to God." You glare at him.

"What will you do?" Hyunjin laughs, scrunching his nose and teasing you. You place the bandaids over the wounds and raise an eyebrow. Hyunjin prompts, "Bite me?"

"I will," you warn and Hyunjin scoffs, "As if."

You bite him. His shoulder, to be exact. Your teeth hold onto his socket for a good one minute tightly till he is yelping, hitting your back to let go of him as he hisses in pain. You let go of him and narrow your eyes at him. Hyunjin is shocked. So shocked that he blankly stares at you with his mouth wide open.

"Are you a dog?"

"I could be one if you taunt me too much."

"Wow," he blinks and you poke the insides of your cheek with your tongue. "Wow, you're truly one of a kind." And Hyunjin breaks down laughing, holding his shoulder with his hand and bending forward overcome by intense laughter.

"Buy me mint choco," he prompts. "Because now you injured me and I want compensation."

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin pushes himself forward, edging closer to you, looking you in your eyes before saying, "You know you have to," in a low guttural tone that your heart does a whole somersault, triple axle and then lands with an ovation. "You hurt me."

You push him away and you leap onto your feet, your eyes wide and your hand over your chest. Hyunjin looks at you with a raised eyebrow. To change the mood of the situation, you quickly announce, "Fine. You'll get mint chocolate only if you get ready and come out in five minutes. Else you pay for it on your own."

Hyunjin stands up and holding your wrist, he pulls you with him to the door. You look at him in utter confusion and ask, "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, blond strands leaving his ponytail to cover his eyes slightly and pink lips so plump that you wonder how they feel. The realisation that you have started viewing your best friend as someone more than just that hits you and you look down instantly. When did this happen?

"I'll just wear a coat and so should you," Hyunjin laughs. "Ice cream can't wait."

People think of laughing as a noise that comes from the mouth more often than not, but when Hyunjin laughed it was nothing like that. The laugh is in his eyes, in the way his face changes into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. And yet, in all honesty, it is not in his face either. His laugh comes from within, it is just the way he is wired with the instant ability to comfort someone. Just the sound of his gales, his snickers, his giggles, was enough to transport you far away from all your worries and the tension your life has in the minute.

Enough to make you forget that you have to tell him today about the decision you have taken.

Hyunjin and you walk down the stairs and off onto the road in five minutes as planned. The cool air of the night hits you and you hold yourself closer, the long coat held tightly to your body surface. Hyunjin laughs before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close by just a little bit and yet enough to share his body warmth.

"Mint choco, here we come!" And he runs with you.

The thing with your stupid heart is that you don't understand why it is beating so rapidly in this moment, your heart beat easily jumping to more than 95bpm and all because Hyunjin holds you. You look at the man by your side, his blond hair moving with the air, exposing his face and you wonder — had Hwang Hyunjin always been this beautiful?

You have known Hyunjin for a long time now. Too long for you to realise that your heart had a change in its plans for emotions recently. You have known Hyunjin way too long to know that you want him for a lifetime by your side, as a best friend at the very least and the thought that if you did act upon your new emotions that you have just discovered in this cold, breezy night, you are screwed.

Hyunjin turns to look back at you after hearing absolutely no sound from you. His face pales when he realises you are looking far ahead and he wonders if you do remember now. If you remember the drunk night.

So he asks to put himself at ease, "Y/N?"

"Huh?" You jolt up to consciousness, looking properly at Hyunjin. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember the night a few days back?"

"Night? Few days back?" You ponder. "When I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin mumbles and you raise your body in anticipation, finally wanting to ask about the magical teleportation.

"Now that we are on this topic," you fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at your best friend. Hyunjin shuffles his balance from his left to his right. "Did you carry me to bed that night?"

Hyunjin chokes on air, sputtering out incoherent words before finally forming one proper sentence, "You knew?"

"You're the only other person I live with and I don't have any recollection of going to bed so like I presumed," you look down, heat rising to your cheek and you fidget with your fingers. "That you carried me to bed."

"That's all that you remember?"

You lift your head up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, "Is there more?"

"Uh," Hyunjin turns back to face forward, his broad back in your vision again as he walks forward to the ice cream parlour by the junction.

"Hyunjin?" He walks quicker. "Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" You follow him with quick, short strides, almost jogging up to him. "What did I do, Jinnie?" He opens the glass door to the ice cream parlour. "Yah, Hwang Hyunjin, tell me no matter how embarrassing it is." You follow him into the white aesthetically pretty place.

You finally catch hold of his coat and tug at it. Hyunjin turns, his cheeks flushed and you wonder what in the world happened that night. Yes, you have vague memories of hugging Hyunjin and passing out, but for him to act like this — wait, you didn't empty your stomach out on him, did you?

"Did I—" Hyunjin's eyes widens. He turns back, his attention on the man behind the counter and he points towards you.

"She's paying."

"Okay," the man nods and turns to look at you, waiting for your order. You sigh, glaring at your best friend before ordering one quantity of mint chocolate ice cream. Your eyes waver to the green ice cream and you frown in displeasure, something Hyunjin catches sight of your expression.

"How dare you?" He folds his arms, dramatically. "The only people that matter in this world are the one that like mint chocolate." The man at the counter smiles at the two of you.

You open your mouth, clicking your tongue, "I'm not paying money to eat toothpaste."

The man behind the counter laughs out loud and Hyunjin glares at him, scoffing. He takes the ice cream from his hand and waits for you to pay. The tall man looks at the two of you, again, before finally telling, "Good luck on your relationship. It's always fun to see couples have an argument over mint chocolate and still be so in love with each other." He turns to look at Hyunjin only, "For your information, I like mint chocolate."

Both Hyunjin and you look at each other, either of you waiting for the other person to disagree with the man but there is just silence. You can feel Hyunjin looking at you through the corners, waiting for you to refute like you always do. You don't and you do not even know why. The heat builds up beneath the apples of your cheek and the thought of being in a relationship with your best friend strangely brings about a wave of calmness within you, doing its best to shove the uncertainty of so many things away.

"Thank you for the ice cream," you say and walk to an empty table. Hyunjin thanks the man too, and follows you, sitting on the seat opposite to you and places the mint chocolate in between.

He watches you, unsure of the situation and you bite your lower lip nervously before shoving the cup closer to him and mumbling, "Eat. We came all the way here for you."

"You should have gotten another ice cream," Hyunjin frowns.

"It's past nine," you laugh, your hair falling over the chair as you lean back. "I can't let fat into my body after nine. You know that."

"Why do I know you?" Hyunjin puts his hand on his forehead looking at you and then he pushes the cup of ice cream towards your side. "Disappointment." You look at your best friend, disgusted and he won't take the disrespect though.

"It's a refreshing taste," he digs in and takes a big bite. "Plus, it's the right balance." He lifts the spoon with a small amount of the mint ice cream and shoves it right in front of your face. "The perfect amount of mint, chocolate and milk to make the world's most perfect ice cream."

You push his hand away and glare, "Why would you ruin two beautiful sweets," you raise an eyebrow, "Chocolate and ice cream by including," you fake a gag, "Mint?"

"Because mint balances the sweetness of the chocolate," he scoffs. "All you mediocre people won't understand. Mint chocolate was created for the elite class."

"Did you just call me mediocre?" your jaw drops and Hyunjin laughs. It's soft, airy and so carefree that you don't mind the fact that he is laughing at you and not with you. You don't mind one bit when you break down and laugh with him, unable to keep your face straight as you lean forward on the table, your head resting on your hands and you watch Hyunjin.

You decide to tell him of your decision in this minute.

"I'm going to make Seungmin manage the team," you tell Hyunjin and he stares at you, the spoon dropping from his hand and clattering against the glass rim of the ice cream cup. You continue, "He's always wanted to manage the volleyball team and I thought I should let him—"

"Why?" He sounds hurt. Disappointed, in fact and your heart plummets down.

"I thought it's time to move on."

"From the team or Minho?"

"Minho," you say, nibbling on your lower teeth. "I want to go back to him—"

"What?" Hyunjin feels his heart sink.

"Don't cut me off, hoe," you click your tongue. "I want to go back to him and be his friend. I'm not ready to ruin a friendship over this. I just won't."

Hyunjin looks down at his cup of ice cream. His spoon digs into the cold dessert over and over again till he realises that he'll do what he has always done for you — be right by your side as your pillar.

"Feed me," Hyunjin prompts and you stare at him with a void expression, mouth still open, wondering if he suggested this only and only to change the topic. Hyunjin stretches his arm out to shut your mouth. "People are going to think I'm starving you here."

"Whoa." You lift your head up. "And if I do that, people are going to think we're possibly the cutest couple out there still in our glorious honeymoon phase of it."

"Okay," Hyunjin shrugs and leans back against the chair, folding his arms against each other.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

You sit up straight and look down before finally saying, "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Those words that make my heart flutter. I don't know what to feel, Hyunjin." Hyunjin is too stunned to react and whine over the fact that you called him properly by his name in your conversation. The fact that he too can cause your heart to race a little bit just like you have with his all these years. "Don't say them to me if you won't ever be ready to take responsibility over them."

You place your thumb and forefinger on your forehead, squeezing the skin slightly to calm the slight ache you can feel, the vein throbbing slightly and you know it is your anxiety that kicks in because you almost spilled everything out. You quickly stand up and holding your coat tightly, you look at Hyunjin who is still seated and looking at you intently.

"I need to go to the pharmacy next door. I'll wait for you there. Finish your ice cream and come."

You don't turn to look at Hyunjin as you walk out, slightly embarrassed by your own behaviour. Between you and Hyunjin, you are the one who had to keep your cool, making sure you didn't slip up or make a mess so that you could at least have time to clean his spilt milk.

You push the door of the ice cream parlour and walk out, the doorbell ringing at your push and you hold yourself in the cold breeze. If Hyunjin did not respond to it, it is only safe to presume that he feels nothing more towards you. You could at least put two and two together. Or so you thought till Hyunjin is chasing after you, big strides and dark blond hair in the wind as his rubber band comes loose and slides off a bit.

"Y/N!" He shouts and quickly holds your wrist, pulling you so quickly that you stumble forward into him. Hyunjin grips your arms to steady you and he looks at you, his brown eyes trying to peep into your soul. He smiles, hand running through his hair only to bring more strands forward, covering his vision.

Falling in love with Hwang Hyunjin, you realise, is the easy part. He makes it so easy to fall for him — when he smiles at the sun, covering his eyes or when he is covered by the dogs in dog parks all eager to hug him because that's how he just is. You don't even realise when you fall for Hyunjin but when you do, you know you are already sinking and you are far too gone for saving.

It is, however, admitting to yourself that you fell for your best friend that is hard. The Hwang Hyunjin that you have seen since the five year old boy moved next door to you. The Hwang Hyunjin that would cross dress in your clothes. The Hwang Hyunjin that would steal your dumplings. It is the same Hwang Hyunjin that you fall for. You had all these doors with specifications that opened to only men like Lee Minho and yet like the rude asshole that you oh so adorably love he seemed to tear them down. Or perhaps those doors were meant for others and Hyunjin always had a door of his own for your heart.

You should have asked yourself why but would it have really mattered? You're here with Hyunjin by your side, whether he knows your feelings or not and you couldn't be any less glad, even if you are sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing Hyunjin right there.

"I'll come back, Jinnie," you tell him, looking up at him and coughing slightly, trying to move back slightly to put some space between the two of you. "I'm not running away. I just need to buy some strips of paraceta—"

"I want to be responsible for them," His gaze doesn't leave yours. "I want to be responsible for you, your emotions and everything you are, if you let me."

You wouldn't dare to shift your eyes away, or focus on anything else. Just Hyunjin. Just your Hyunjin. Your heart beats so fast against your chest that you wonder if it ever had this much for any man or woman. And when Hyunjin pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your frame, hand flat against your head that buries your face into his chest, you learn that Hwang Hyunjin's heartbeat is always your metronome — the beat your entire life seemed to have moved smoothly to.

You giggle against his chest, breaking into a smile, "Are you asking me out, Jinnie?"

"I guess," he chuckles into your hair, snuggling himself into you. He pulls you back to explain. "My original plan was to ask you out after the practice match that I'll make sure we win, but you could possibly not be there as our manager and what if I miss the chance?"

"You lovesick boy," you laugh, smiling stupidly at him. Hyunjin cups your face and presses his forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for so long, Y/N," and you blush, lips pursed and you smile back, heart fluttering.

"Thank you," you press a kiss against his cheek.

"For what?"

"For being you and for always loving me."

Hwang Hyunjin holds your face and kisses like he is capable of getting rid of all your worries, slowly bleeding into your marrows and cells and soaking you of the very essence he is. He holds you like you are a precious being — and to him, you are because he finally has you after all these years; he finally gets to call you his.

His lips are warm and tasted of mint; obviously from the mint chocolate ice cream earlier. His hands are wrapped around your waist and yours are locked around his neck pulling him down slightly. His strands of blond locks brush against your face, ticking you slightly and you giggle into the kiss. He laughs against your lips before kissing you slowly, drawing the kiss for as long as he could. When you break apart for air, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his, gathering some much needed oxygen. His smile tells you everything you need confirmation over and you smile back, sinking into his hold.

Hyunjin hugs with gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; yet it is the hug of a strong pair of arms that tells everything that you are - every fibre of your being - that he is with you, and you wonder how he is capable of that. How he is capable of holding like you are his whole world — like he rather hold you than anything else.

Hyunjin does exactly that. He holds you tight and close to him in this cold night, ignorant of everything else around the two of you, like you and him only mattered in the place, like you and him are fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Dummy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one of the Avengers who doesn’t tease you for being a little slow 

Masterlist

Now you weren’t exactly dumb.

You were just a little slow.

When you joined the Avengers last year, the team learned pretty quickly that your mind moved at a different pace than everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and it didn’t keep you from doing your job, it just meant you were the butt of most of the jokes. Every time one of your blunders happened, your intelligence would be mocked in some way. You knew it was all in good fun, but it hurt to it feelings every now and then. The only person who never poked fun at you was Peter. And for that reason, he was your favorite on the team.

“How are there 23 minutes left in this movie and I still don’t know any of the characters names?” Steve wondered as you all sat in the couch in Stark Towers, watching a movie on a particularly rainy afternoon.

“I think the main kids name is Phoenix. That’s all I got though.” Sam shook his head, just as confused as Steve.

“The dogs name is Benson.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“Who names their kid Phoenix?” Peter wondered out loud as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. The two of you were tucked into the corner of the couch, sharing a blanket and bowl of popcorn. You looked at him like he was crazy when you heard his question.

“Ummm, Joaquin Phoenix’s parents.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You turned your attention back to the movie as a silence settled in the room. You felt everyone’s eyes on you after a minute and looked around to see everyone staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What?” You asked shyly, shrinking down a little in your seat in discomfort.

“That’s his last name.” Sam stated, chuckling a little under his breath. You realized your mistake and felt your face heat up.

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice getting drowned out as the rest of the Avengers laughed at your expense.

“Did she really just say that?” Nat looked at the group with a playful smile. Everyone, excluding Peter, nodded as their laughter died down.

“Oh my God.” Steve chuckled. “That’s so stupid.”

There was that word again.

He didn’t mean it maliciously. Steve was the kinda of guy who ushered spiders into a magazine so he could let them outside. And yet, it still stung when he said that word.

Stupid.

You smiled sheepishly and tried to focus on the movie, snuggling closer to Peters side until it ended. You were fully aware that he was the only one who didn’t laugh, and you loved him that.

And maybe you loved him for a few other reasons too.

~

“Alright. Who has money for the subway?” Sam asked the group as he patted his empty pockets. You were on another late night trip to get cookies from a specific shop in Times Square, leaving without Tony’s knowledge. Everyones hands went to their pockets and collectively made a face.

“Not me.” Rhodey shrugged.

“I don’t have any.” Bruce added.

“I don’t even have pockets.” Nat realized.

“I have gum.” Peter proudly produced a silver wrapper from his pocket. “Oh wait, it’s just a wrapper.”

“You’re telling me we’re earth’s mightiest heroes and we’re broke?” Sam shook his head is disdain.

“I gave my last dollar to a guy in the subway for playing music.” Peter defended himself.

“What was he playing?” You asked him as you tiredly leaned against his arm.

“A mandolin.” Peter answered, making your face scrunch up.

“That’s a language.” You laughed at him slightly, feeling empowered by having the upper hand. Everyone looked at you and a few of them snorted.

“Mandarin is a language.” Bruce said gently, not wanting to embarrass you further. “Not mandolin.” 

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked to Peter for answers.

“A mandolin is an instrument, dummy.” Sam chortled. You smiled tightly as the group laughed at your mistake, looking down to hide your blush.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.” You laughed shyly as you tucked your hair behind your ear and pretending to read a nearby sign.

“That’s okay.” Peter spoke up in your defense. “They sound really similar. Plus like, French, French Horn. Who knows what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. “Or like, bra’s aren’t pointy anymore.”

Bruce nodded like it made perfect sense and Sam just shook his head as he texted.

“What?” You whispered to Peter, not knowing what he meant.

“He’s from the 1920s. He’s still adjusting.” Peter whispered to you out of the corner of his mouth before looking at Bucky. “That’s the spirit. Kind of.”

“FRIDAY is sending a car.” Sam informed the group. “This is never happening again. The cookies aren’t that good.”

“They’re pretty good.” Rhodey shrugged, but wanting the late Nate tradition to end. Sam looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Hell yeah they are. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

~

Bruce found you in the lab the next day with a pin between your teeth and a pencil behind your ear. Papers with drawings of suits were scattered around the table as you measured a piece of black fabric.

“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered as he took a seat across from you. You glanced up at him before marking a dot on the fabric.

“Mr. Stark asked me to help him with the new suits. I’m trying to make a fabric template for Nat’s gloves.” You told him as you smoothed the fabric out.

“Is it hard?” He asked, watching you intently as you worked.

“Not really.” You shrugged and took a step back to examine your work. “Okay. How many holes do we need? 1,2,3,4,5.” You counted your fingers. “Okay. Five holes.”

You sat back down and put five dots where her fingers would be to mark where you had to cut. You heard a slight chuckle from Bruce and looked up at him curiously.

“Did you just count your fingers?” He asked slowly, wanting to make sure he saw what he thought he had. “To know how many fingers Nat has?”

Your face burned when you realized how dumb you looked, in front of a scientific genius no less.

“Oh, Uh, yeah.” You stammered, feeling very insecure with him watching you now. You moved slower than before and second guessed moves you’d already made a hundred times. Bruce sensed your discomfort and got out of his seat, tapping the table twice as he thought.

“Have you ever heard the expression “the lights are on but nobody’s home’?” He asked you and you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I think I have.” You smiled, proud of yourself for knowing something.

“It reminds me of you.” Bruce said so politely that you didn’t realize it was an insult at first. He left the lab to find Tony, leaving you feeling embarrassed and a little hurt. Everyone knew Bruce could hurt you ten times worse with his words than the Hulk could with his fists, you’d just never been his target before. You slumped down in your seat and continued making the gloves, your mood significantly dampened from before he came in the room.

~

You walked into the kitchen the next morning, sleepily rubbing your eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss on Peters shoulder as you passed him, also more affectionate to your best friend when you were half asleep. You smiled at Rhodey, who was seated at the bar and skimming through a newspaper.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked him through a yawn as you got out yogurt and fruit for yourself.

“No. I needed my coffee first.” He smiled sleepily at you and held up his mug.

“Oh, you mean your sugar with a spoonful of coffee?” You teased him. “Yeah, it’s good you got that out of the way.”

“I prefer it this way. The sugar wakes me up.” Peter defended his drink as he took a sip.

“That’s what the caffeine is supposed to do, mi amor.” You laughed as you ruffled his bed head ridden hair. He was about to make a comeback when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” You remarked. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t eat eggs alone.”

“Well I’m here. And Rhodey’s right there, so you’re not alone.” You told him. “And I can grab Steve and Bucky. They’re just in the other room.”

Rhodey looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows and looked at Peter. Peter set his mug down and made a face at Rhodey that told him not to say anything. You looked between the two of them in confusion as you wondered what was going on.

“I meant alone as in without toast, sweetness.” Peter said gently, not wanting you to feel dumb for misunderstanding. “But I am glad you’re here.”

“Oh.” You faked a smile and shrugged like it was no big deal. Peter had handled the situation with ease and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you normally would. That is until…

“You know, Y/n, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Rhodey nodded before going back to his newspaper. You froze with your spoonful of yogurt midway to your mouth and looked at him. He didn’t actually call you dumb, but it was implied. You looked at Peter to see if he was thinking the same thing, but his face had nothing but kindness on it.

“You are pretty.” He agreed with Rhodey. “But you’re a lot of other things too.”

You cracked a smile and rubbed his back for a moment in appreciation.

“Thanks Peter.” You said softly and went back to your breakfast. Not wanting to worry him, you ignored the way Rhodey’s comment made you feel and tried to push it from your mind. But no hard you tried to focus on other things, you had one thought prodding at the back of your head.

You were dumb.

~

A week went by without anyone poking fun at your intelligence. You had a sneaking suspicion Peter had something to do with the lack of comments, but you said nothing. It was nice to have a break from all the teasing and it made hanging out with the team more enjoyable. You all lingered around the kitchen one day, eating all different kinds of lunch when Tony came in the room.

“Eat up, funky bunch.” He clapped his hands. “We have a mission in Alaska to train for and I need all hands on deck. Cap, do you think you can teach Peter that spinny thingy you do?”

“I can try.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a manicure. I’ll be back around noon.” Tony informed you all.

“Wait, I thought you said all hands on deck.” You tilted your head at him.

“I did. Which I why I have to make sure my hands look the best.” Tony waved flirtatiously, wiggling his fingers around like a teenage girl. He smirked as his action was met with some eye rolls and a few chuckles before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska.” Peter nudged you excitedly and you smiled with glee.

“Is Alaska the same as the North Pole? Or am I thinking of Antarctica?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No. The North Pole is all the way at the top. Alaska is below California. Like by Texas.” You said confidently, proud that you knew information that someone else didn’t. Your pride quickly dissipated when you saw the teams faces twist in amusement.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at you like you were joking. You shrugged, letting him know you weren’t. Sam burst out laughing and clapped his hands as the rest of the team began to laugh.

“Absolutely not.” Sam grinned as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes it is.” You insisted. “Look at any US map. It’s on the bottom by Hawaii.”

You were getting angry now. You knew you were right this time and they were still teasing you.

“No.” Bucky shook his head is dismissal. “No.”

“Alaska is below California on every map I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me I’m wrong?” You our your hand on your hip and stared at them.

“100%. I am 100% telling you you’re wrong.” Sam said between his laughter. Peter came to your side and showed you a picture of a map on his phone.

“Alaska is US territory but it’s not connected to the rest of the states. They just put it below California on maps to show it’s a part of the US. Thats not actually where it’s located.” He said quietly. You looked at the map for a few seconds before you realized he was right. And if he was right…

You were wrong.

“Oh.” You smiled apologetically and averted your eyes. “Oops.”

You turned around and pretending to clean up the kitchen to hide your searing blush. Your fingers clenched around your sponge when you heard the teasing laughter from behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder how you made it out of high school.” Steve joked as he threw out the crusts of his sandwich. The comment stung you and you began to scrub the counter faster so you could leave the room sooner. Peter could see your shoulders tense and put a reassuring hand on your back. You gave him a tight lipped smiled before putting your dish in the sink.

“I’m still wondering how she made it out of first grade.” Nat teased you and she poked your side.

“I can’t believe she made it out of the womb in the first place with nobody telling her where to go.” Sam said, making everyone laugh loudly. You abruptly threw a dish in the sink, making everyone go silent. You tuned around slowly and faked a smile.

“Haha. Yeah.” You forced a laugh. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You swiftly left the room before anyone could catch your tears. You felt stupid for even getting upset over it, but their words hurt. Feeling like you were always the dumbest person in the room was taking a toll on you, especially when you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Peter watched you leave with sympathetic eyes, feeling his own frustration bubble at the sound of the team laughing at you. He thought they had listened the first time he told them to stop making fun of you, but they clearly hadn’t. After seeing the pained look on your face, Peter made a decision.

It was never going to happen again.

~

“Ugh. I’m never gonna get this right.” Peter groaned as he messed up the move Steve was trying to teach him once again.

“You’re getting too much inside your head. Just let it happen naturally.” Steve instructed as he resumed his stance. Peter tried the move again, wiping out and landing on his side with a thud. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you spared with Nat.

“I can’t.” Peter got up and rubbed his arm. “I can’t do it.”

Steve nodded, like he was accepting Peters defeat. You stopped sparing and looked at Peter.

“Yes you can. Come on, Peter.” You encouraged him. “Everyone told Van Gogh that he couldn’t be an artist because he only had one ear but he did it anyway.”

The room feel silent, as it often did when you spoke, and everyone looked down.

“Oh dear Lord.” Rhodey sighed and hung his head and he snickered. You could see everyone else fighting back laughter or cracking a smile, yet saying nothing.

“What?” You crossed your arms in annoyance, looming to Peter for help.

“He chopped his ear off after becoming an artist.” Peter said kindly. “He wasn’t born without one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it.

“Speaking of ears, do you think of you shone a light in one of Y/n’s ears, it would come out the other ear?” Tony quipped, making everyone laugh. The tips of your ears burned as that feeling of stupidity sunk in again. You undid the Velcro on your boxing gloves and pretended to wipe sweat from your face as you rushed to the bin where the gloves went. You kept your back to the group and pretending to be putting your gloves away when you were really concealing your pained expression.

“Yes.” Nat jeered. “Yes I do.”

Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you turned around, making every effort to keep your face neutral. Your face didn’t give away any signs of sadness, but your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bin gave your true feelings away. Peter noticed this and felt his jaw clench. If you weren’t gonna tell them to stop, he was.

“Leave her alone, guys.” He commanded the crowd before looking at you. “Thanks for the encouragement, Y/n. I’m gonna keep trying.”

“It’s fine.” You nodded curtly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You walked out of the gym, pausing in place when you heard Sams voice.

“Hit the showers?” He laughed. “We just started.”

“Shhh. Don’t confuse the poor girl any further.” Bruce joked back. You looked back at the gym with your eyebrows knit together, taking a quiet step closer to hear what they were saying about you without you there.

“She’s probably like, ‘whats this magic closet that makes rain?’” Rhodey imitated your voice, making you sound as dense as possible.

“Knock it off guys. It’s not funny.” Peter snapped, but the teasing continued.

“Or like, ‘this shampoo says it adds volume, but I used it and I can’t hear any louder than before’.” Tony mocked you, skipping around a little like a child. Your face contorted in misery as they made fun of you. You knew who they really were, and they were good people. They didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, they were only joking around like they did with everyone. Steve was teased all the time for his old fashioned dialect and no one lets Tony live down the kimono incident. Still, all their insults and mockery cut you like a knife.

“Ahh, I love that girl.” Nat shook her head with a smile. “She’s so dumb.”

“She may be slow, but she’s entertaining as hell.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I said knock it off.” Peter repeated, getting a reaction this time.

“Aw. Peters mad because we’re teasing his girlfriend.” Nat pouted and pinched Peters cheek. She quickly realized how wholesome she was being and punched Bucky in the face to maintain her lethal assassin persona.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter grumbled. Now that you were out of the room, he was the next target.

“He’s right. Hey, maybe that’s why you guys haven’t gotten together yet.” Rhodey shrugged. “She’s too stupid to realize you’re in love with her.”

That was all you had to hear. You ran towards your with tears running down your face. Thanks to Peters advanced heating, he heard every heavy footstep.

“Okay. Maybe she is a little slow.” Peter shook his head in disdain at the team. “But you guys are idiots.”

~

You were quiet the entire way to Alaska, keeping to yourself and silently looking out the window. Peter attempted to talk to you once or twice, but he could tell you wanted to be alone. The Avengers completed the mission within a few hours with minor damage to the area. Peter focused on his job but found himself looking for you every now and then, being as you usually stayed together during missions. He didn’t see you anywhere and assumed you were doing your own thing on the other side of the field. He heart rest assured when he saw you boarding the jet, still looking reserved and aloof from the rest of the team. You took a seat by the window and rested your chin on your hand, looking out at the bleak landscape in front of you as the jet took off. Peter didn’t engage in small talk with the rest of the team and wistfully stared at you instead, silently willing you to cheer up.

“I think that went pretty well.” Rhodey nodded and the team agreed. “But where were you the whole time, Y/n? Picking daisies?”

Peter held his breath as you slowly turned around. You gave Rhodey a frigid smile and shook your head.

“We came during a blizzard so I used my powers to create a heated force field around the area we were in to prevent frostbite and give you guys and easier time seeing in the snow. We were also at a higher altitude than any of us are used to so I kept the air pressure to sea level standard.” You said simply. “And I assumed there would be smoke from the battle so I rounded up the nearby animals and made a separate for field around them to protect their lungs.”

The room went silent, something you were used to at this point. But instead of everyone falling silent because they were laughing at you, they were impressed.

“Oh.” Rhodey blinked in surprise, not expecting the answer he was given.

“I also picked this flower.” You smiled proudly as you produced a Forget Me Not from your lap. Peter couldn’t keep the grin from breaking through on his face. You were the center of attention once again, but in a good way this time. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with what you had done and it showed.

“I didn’t think about the altitude.” Nat realized.

“I had no idea there was a blizzard.” Steve added, looking dumbfounded.

“Because I kept you from knowing.” You shrugged. “I wanted you guys to focus on the mission.”

“I mean, I knew. I just didn’t tell you guys because I was so distracted by my buffed and polished nails.” Tony twiddled his fingers again, showing off his freshly manicured nails. You all laughed, breaking the tension in the jet.

“Well look at that.” Sam looked impressed. “Y/n knew something we didn’t.”

It was almost a compliment, but it still made you feel insecure. You didn’t want it to be this mind boggling every time you did something useful.

“Thanks, Y/n. That was really smart.” Peter said softly as he patted your knee. You put your hand over his and squeezed it. It was the first time someone called your smart, and it made you feel good.

“It was really smart.” Sam said skeptically. He stared at you for a moment before poking your side.

“What are you doing?” You swatted his hand away.

“Just making sure you’re still in there.” He eyed you suspiciously. Peter could sense the attention was making you uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“Are we almost home?” He asked Tony before peering out the window. The flight was a little over 7 hours on a normal plane, but the Stark jet was much quicker. The flight would only take a few hours, but Peter was not known for being patient.

“Yes, Peter. We are almost back at the tower. You can get your diaper changed and your bottle as soon as we get back.” Tony sassed him, making him shrink in his seat. Your body language had completely changed and your were now sitting straight, facing the group. Peter was glad you were feeling better and didn’t even mind Tony’s comment.

“Guys, let’s be civil. We’re all tired. We all want to get home.” You said calmly. “Let’s just focus on how pretty the sky looks tonight. Isn’t is pretty, Peter?”

He gazed at your profile as you looked out the window at the stars, admiring how pretty you looked from the side.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” He conceded without ever taking his eyes off you. You shot him a smile before looking straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Wow, the moon is huge!” You pointed time a large yellow crescent that could be seen through the window.

“That’s literally the reflection of my banana on the windshield.” Tony deadpanned. He may have been right, but it still looked pretty.

“Should we make a wish?” You asked Peter, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“On the banana?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “On the banana.”

“Why?” Rhodey asked. “It’s not like people wish on the moon.”

“It feels like we should.” You said with confidence.

“Yep. She’s still in there.” Sam chuckled. And just like that, your confidence receded.

“I hate it here.” Bucky sighed heavily and tuned out of the conversation.

“It must be so peaceful being you, Y/n.” Tony remarked.

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“Because instead of thinking about your problems and mistrials, you simply don’t think at all.” Tony said suavely. In only a better for minutes, you’d gone from being the hero to the laughing stock of the group. The sly comments and taunting laughter made you feel like you should stop opening your mouth entirely. You faked a smile and turned back towards the window, tuning out the rest of the way home. Peter chewed his lip as he stared at you, feeling useless to helping you out. The team just wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Knowing you weren’t in the mood to talk, he scooted closer to you and put a comforting hand on your back. You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to him point out the constellations the whole way home.

~

The next day, you and Peter were sitting in the balcony, working on some new gadgets for Mr. Stark when Peter made a startling discovery.

“Where’s my right web shooter?” Peter stood up in a panic when he realized it was missing. “I left it right here.”

“Maybe a bird carried it off.” You shrugged as you twisted a tiny screw into Peters left web shooter.

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” Peter stated. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me and turn me into a decorative rug if I lost it.”

“I’m being serious too. We live in New York and I see birds around here all the time.” You told him as you continued your work. “And you know the pigeons here are feral. A bird probably stole it to pay for his child support.”

Peter usually entertained your antics and joined in with his own batch of sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood. His web shooter was missing and their were actual stakes involved. Without his web shooter, he couldn’t be Spiderman. And without Spider-Man, he couldn’t be an Avenger.

“Can you be serious for once?“ Peter whined, picking up everything on the table to look under it.

“I’m just saying it’s possible, Peter. You never know.” You insisted as you put your screw driver down to help him look. You began looking in the flower pots on the windowsill that you and Peter had planted. Peter stopped his search for a moment, growing angry with you for wasting time. He didn’t know if you were joking around or genuine believed his web shooter was in the flower pots, but it made him frustrated nonetheless. A combination of his lack of sleep and stress over losing the webshooter manifested into a moment of unchecked rage.

“No, it’s not possible.” He snapped. “A bird didn’t steal my web shooter. God, do you have to be so stupid?” 

 The word hung in the air for a moment, settling in to the both of you. Peters eyes immediately softened, feeling instant regret for what he had said. You stopped trifling through the plants and slowly turned around.

“What?” You asked quietly. Peter tightened his lips into a line and tried to justify what he had said.

“I try to defend you but you make it so hard. Can you help me out a little here and not be so…” He trailed off when he realized he had only made it worse. Your face hardened and you looked disappointed in Peter, which killed him. He would have preferred anger or even sadness, but the disappointment killed him.

“So what?” You shrugged. “Finish your sentence Peter.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, really, go ahead.” You stated coldly. “You got this far. So what, Peter?”

He looked at you for a moment, getting that feeling of wishing you could turn back time just a few seconds to fix a mistake.

“So dumb all the time.” He finished his sentence with an unsteady voice. Your face scrunched up in a pained expression as you sucked in and let out a shaky breath.

“You were the only one who never called me that.” You whimpered before moving past him and going inside. Peter watched you through the open balcony doors as you disappeared into the hallway with a heavy heart. His mouth was open to apologize, but you were long gone. He’d seen you being ridiculed so many times already, and now he was the one doing it. All that talk about it never happening again, only for him to be the reason it happened. Peter couldn’t live with himself for another minute without you knowing how sorry he was. He took a step towards the doorway until he heard a pigeon land on the table. He watched it curiously for a moment as it pecked at the screwdriver you had been using before picking it up with its beak. It flew over to the edge and began to walk along the railing, still keeping the screwdriver in his mouth. Peter followed the pigeon, walking all the way down the balcony to find a large nest in the corner. He watched as it dropped the screwdriver into its nest, right next to his web shooter.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter.” Peter said in disbelief. Peter watched as baby pigeons poked out from inside the web shooter to greet the other pigeon.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter for his kids.” Peters eyes widened even more than they already were. Realized struck him and his shoulders slumped.

“She was right.” He mumbled, angry at himself more than ever. “I yelled at her and she was right.”

Peter wasted no time in rescuing his web shooter from the birds, offering them a nice biodegradable coffee cup in its place, and ran to the kitchen to make you a peace offering. He knocked softly on your door and didn’t wait for an answer before going in.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” Peter stiffly held out a mug with an awkward smile on his face. You looked at Peter from your bed, eyes puffy like you had been crying. You stared at each other for a long time, you with a death glare and Peter with his awkward smile. Neither of you said a word as Peter continued to hold out the mug. After two full minute of silence, a bead of sweat ran down Peters face as he looked around nervously, never breaking his smile. You let out an angry sigh and decided to throw him a bone, crossing the room to accept his mug. You looked into the cup for a moment before looking back at Peter.

“This is empty.” You deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to make tea.” Peter whispered, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve seen you make it.” You snapped.

“I forgot how to do it.” Peters eyes shifted nervously to the side.

“Bucky was in the kitchen, wasn’t he?”

“I know he hates me.” Peter talked over you as you groaned. “I know he does.”

“Just go away.” You tried to close the door but he kept it open.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I came in here to apologize.”

“You see this?” You held up the mug for a Peter to see. “It’s my cup of care. And look at that” ,you dumped the cup over, “it’s empty.”

Peter stared at your demonstration with raised eyebrows, surprised that you were still able to be sarcastic when he hurt you. Peter took the mug from your hands and set it on the ground before slowly looking up at your face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said softly with all the sincerity his heart could give. You scoffed and folded your arms, looking to the side when you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Yes I am.” You said like you fully believed it, which was Peters worse fear. “Everyone says so. Even you.”

It hit Peter like a sheet of glass when you looked at him like that.

Like he was someone you didn’t want around.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Peter apologized. “That is not how I feel. At all.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never thought about saying that before.” You laughed sadly. “Everyone on the team calls me dumb. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter repeated. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Bullshit.” You snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“I’m not full of bullshit.” He whined like a child and gave you puppy dog eyes. “I’m full of regret.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as he gave you his best pout, willing you to forgive him. Finally, you caved and cracked a smile.

“I hate you.” You stamped your foot and hung your head, frustrated with yourself for not being able to stay mad at him. Peter opened his arms and you walked into them, arms still folded angrily. You bumped your forehead against his shoulder before moving to rest your chin on it as he wrapped his arms around you. Peter nestled against your hair and sighed, happy that you had forgiven him but still saddened that he had hurt you in the first place. He could see the pile of used tissues on your bed and it killed him to know he made you cry.

“I didn’t mean to call you that. I really didn’t.” He said softly. “I’m the one who’s been trying to stop people from saying that.”

“But they still do it.” You sniffled. “Everyday I get called dumb or stupid or scalene.”

“I think it’s obtuse, not scalene.” Peter reluctantly corrected you. You pulled away and little and let Peter wipe the tears from your face.

“Maybe they’re right.” You shrugged and looked Peter in the eyes. “Maybe I am dumb.”

Peter kept your face between his hands, staring at you for a moment before sighing.

“I once sneezed so many times in a row that I peed my pants.” Peter deadpanned. “I was 17.”

“What?” You chuckled as you wiped your nose.

“I saw Bucky try to take a piece of toast out of the toaster with his metal arm and electrocute himself.” He continued. “And I constantly see Tony bumping into glass doors.”

“I don’t understand.” You squinted your eyes, but sure what point he was trying to make.

“Steve still picks up the phone and asks for the operator. Nat leaves her curling iron plugged in all the time. I do not think Sam knows the address of where we live and I’m pretty sure Rhodey can’t do laundry. He gets all his stuff dry cleaned, even his socks.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You asked.

“Because were all dumb.” Peter concluded. “We all do and say dumb things. You don’t know where Alaska is and no one in this tower can read analog clocks. If we’re all dumb, then maybe none of us are dumb. Or we all are. Who cares?” Peter shrugged, making you laugh. “And you were right. A bird did carry off my web shooter. So no, you’re no dumb. Or stupid. Or obtuse. You’re, uh, you- you…” Peter looked down at he fumbled over his words.

“I’m what?” You raised an eyebrow. You could finish his sentence last time, but this time you were lost.

“You’re…” Peter tampered off again, staring at your confused expression for a moment before pulling you into a kiss. Your hands clenched into a fist and slowly uncurled as you relaxed into the kiss. Peter pulled away too soon and let his eyes flutter open. They met yours and you shared a moment of hesitation, not knowing what happened rest next.

“I’m gonna be honest lovey, I didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.” Peter chris joes softly, his breath fanning your face. “That was mainly improv.”

“You’re pretty good at improv, Parker.” You cracked a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I did a little bit of theater in high school.” He shrugged smugly, making you giggle.

“Mmm. I severely don’t want to hear about that.” You teased before kissing him again.

“Oh, I think you do.” Peter remarked. “Because I once went to the bathroom during intermission with my mic still on and the entire audience heard me peeing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

Tag List 🏷

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[chimielie]

Lia snakdjsjjd congrats on 500 you should have 5 million but we’ll get there <3 Sakusa college AU enemies to lovers fic I’m putting that on the table 🙈

tysm tee sorry this took 9 years i got sick </3 please pretend coed showers are a thing in college for this fic

sakusa kiyoomi + college au + enemies to lovers (fic)

“No!” Your voice echoes off the tile as your body wash slips through your fingers and lands just past the slip-preventative, skidding beneath the stall door and into the neighboring stall. “Shit, shit, shit, no,” you squat, ignoring the gross squelch of your flip-flops, and try to feel around for the bottle. “Fuck my life.”

“What are you doing?”

You gasp— inhaling a mouthful of liquid as you do— and pull your arm back, cradling it close to your body like it’s been bitten by a snake.

“Do you make a habit of reaching into stranger’s stalls in the showers?” The masculine voice rings out over the sound of water hitting the floor. Honestly, what happens next is not your fault; you’ve had a long day, and you just wanted to curl up in bed and watch Ponyo after a hot shower, and then your fucking body wash ran away from you, and now this guy is picking a fight.

You get defensive. You stand and nearly wrench the faucet handle off its mount, cutting off the sound of falling water swiftly. The bathroom, now, rings with an eerie silence broken only by your indignant response.

“Do you make a habit of standing with the water off in the stall right next to the only occupied one?”

“I just got here,” the stranger snaps back. “I walked into the stall and saw a disembodied arm—”

“No comment on making yourself my neighbor,” you say, knowing full well the ridiculousness of this argument.

“This stall has the hottest water!”

“Sure,” you put extra effort into your eye roll so that he can hear it through the inches of plastic between you. “Did you telekinetically take my body wash, too, so you could lure me into your,” you click your fingers, searching for the right word. “Whatever?”

“My whatever,” he repeats disbelievingly. “You’re accusing me of moving your ‘hand-blended botanical body wash in plum-blossom’ with my mind so as to lure you into my whatever instead of doing whatever else a person with telekinetic abilities might do?”

“So you have it!” You say triumphantly. There’s a loud groan from his end. “Can you just give it back?” There’s only about a quarter of the bottle left, and as stupid and sappy and sentimental as it is, you’d brought it with you knowing that you’d need that last reminder of home on the hard days. On days like today.

You hear the shower curtain swish, the latch click open, footsteps outside. You grab your towel and wrap it around your body, cover yourself appropriately, prepare to snatch it and shut your door as quickly as possible.

“You didn’t say please,” he smirks when you crack open the stall door. You think up a snappy retort, but it never quite makes it out of your throat. His hair is long— not long enough to warrant a hair tie, but long— and curly, spiraling down around his face and the elegant sweep of his neck. You can see his collarbones, because he’s shirtless, you can see everything. His abs flex slightly (and it’s not like you’re looking, they’re just right there, staring at you from above the low waistband of his pants) and you jump a little, your eyes flicking back to his face, which isn’t any less arresting than his bare chest.

His eyebrows tilt up like he’s amused, and your eyes bounce between the shirtless expanse of skin and the intensity of his gaze. You settle finally on the top mole of the two on the right side of his forehead, which is, unfortunately and insanely, still attractive.

“I’m not saying please,” you say nastily and open the door a little more, stretching out your hand.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, the corners of his mouth lifting to match the expression in his eyes. “Here.”

He passes it to you, the shape familiar in your hand. You don’t break eye contact during the exchange. Before he can pull back, however, you grab him and pull him in just a little bit.

“Thanks,” you say, as sweetly as you can, and watch the surprise shift over his expression, the way his posture straightens out just a little.

Then you slam the door in his face.

Bastard, you think with satisfaction as you turn the water back on and wait for it to heat. Handsome bastard, your brain supplies, and you roll your eyes to yourself and blame your hot cheeks on the shower.

Of all the places Sakusa expected to bump into you, it wasn’t here.

“Hi, Komori,” you slide into the karaoke booth they’re all crowded into, your attention on your outfit as you smooth it out beneath the table. Sakusa takes a breathless moment to admire the shine of neon lights on your skin, the shape of your cheekbones, the brightness of your grin when you lift your head to face everyone, before frosting his expression back over with passivity. “I ordered something with a weird name at the bar already, I think it had lime in it? Does anyone know what that— oh, I know you.”

“Hi,” Sakusa lifts a hand. You narrow your eyes, the grin dropping from your face. He mourns it temporarily. If only you weren’t so annoying.

You stick your tongue out at him.

And weird.

“Okay,” his cousin says. “Is this gonna be weird?”

He looks at Sakusa, and Sakusa knows what he’s really asking. Is this a you’re-an-asshole thing, or a this-is-the-final-straw-in-the-group-outings thing? He appreciates that Motoya would be willing to kick you out for the sake of keeping him coming to the outings he knows are partially organized only because his family doesn’t trust in his social skills.

“No,” Sakusa says flatly. “Why would it be weird?”

He feels something nudge his shoe beneath the table. When he looks accusingly at you, your wide smile is back.

“You and Y/N,” Motoya says. “You’re weird.”

“Thank you,” Sakusa says, eyes focused on his issue of Volleyball Worldwide. You’d picked it up the last time he’d accompanied you on a late-night convenience store run, handing it to him and informing him pertinently (you’re always pertinent, he thinks, and bites his lip so he won’t smile at the thought) that it was his payment. He’d told you just to pay him back in money, but you’d winked and brushed past him to put your wrappers in a public trash can, and he’d kept the magazine.

“You gotta tell me, though, because Fumi bet that you two are into each other, and Takahashi thinks you’re already dating and haven’t told us ‘cause, y’know, weird, and I don’t know whether to round it out with ‘you’re not into each other,’ or just put money on one of those two. I’ve stalled for a while and still haven’t figured it out, too, so I can promise you… well, I don’t know, but something.”

“We’re not together,” Sakusa says blandly, turning a page. “Hey, smell this.”

“What?” Sakusa simply tears a square off the glossy magazine paper and opens it with his blunt, short nails, then holds it up to Motoya’s nose. “It smells good, but I need you to give me the inside—”

“It’s a men’s cologne sample,” Sakusa says, sniffing it himself. “Says it has sandalwood. Do you think Y/N would like it?”

“Oh,” Motoya says. “I see.”

“No, you idiot,” Sakusa glares out of the corner of his eyes. “I asked you to smell.”

Sakusa’s curls are still slightly damp, fresh from the shower, when he lands his head with a thud on your shoulder.

“Ugh, you’re gonna get my shirt wet,” you push at him ineffectively. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. “Yes, I know.”

“You were the one who wanted to watch this movie,” you jostle him slightly. “Are you going to fall asleep before it even starts?”

“Not my fault the practice was extra long,” he says petulantly into your neck, “or that my building’s water was broken.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Do you think it’s weird that showers have featured so heavily in our relationship? Like, we met— over a year ago, now, I guess— in the showers and all.”

“Everyone showers,” Sakusa says. “It’s not weird.”

“I guess,” you say. “Your shampoo, it’s apple, right?” You feel him nod, though he doesn’t say anything for a bit. You watch him, plaid-pajama-clad-legs taking up most of the couch, long lashes fluttering as he breathes.

“D’you like it?” He says finally, his voice sleepy and deep.

You hum an affirmation, bringing one hand up to rub circles into his neck.

“I was thinking about how we met recently, too,” he says, breath a soft whisper against your skin. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently.”

His inflection on you is barely noticeable. He speaks the word like it’s something poetic, and though you’ve been dancing around each other for a while now, it feels like you’ve come to a standstill.

“I think about you, too,” you whisper, and dip your head to kiss him.

Kiyoomi’s parched when he wakes up. The clock blinking red on your bedside table says it’s barely past three A.M., its reflection glaring off the glass of water you’d left next to it for precisely the reason he’s up.

He unwinds himself a little from the sheets and pushes his hair out of his face before sitting up against the headboard to drink, eyes landing on the shapes in his room obscured by the darkness. When he’s done, he places the glass back on the table as gently as possible, hoping it doesn’t clink loudly enough to wake you up, no matter how deeply you sleep.

He takes a deep breath and settles himself against your side again; you mumble something unconsciously and reach over to pull his arm over you. He fits himself into the shape you’ve made for him easily; you’ve only practiced a thousand times for this. Your hair tickles his nose, buried in the nape of your neck.

There’s perfume lingering from earlier tonight; a fancier occasion than his younger self would have preferred, but you hadn’t seemed to mind it. He presses a kiss to your skin softly just before he drifts back into sleep, knowing you’ll wake with him in just a few hours, the early morning sun warming your ylang-ylang-scented skin. It’s for Venus, you’d warned him laughingly, brandishing the bottle threateningly at him. I’ll put a love spell on you.

Kiyoomi thinks that if he were to worry about you charming him, he should have started long ago, in the shower stall with the hottest water. It's altogether too late for him now.