#almost like a little trail for a sticker club

[piierrote]

oh btw order processing is on hold for this week just cause i’ve got a cold and i don’t wanna be processing orders and potentially spreading my cold through the post <3 if you ordered over the weekend i’m hoping to be fine by friday and sending stuff out then!!

[kxxkiecxre]

ꕥFWM - J.J.K ꕥ

PAIRING: Jungkook x F!reader

SERIES: like a moth to a flame.

SUMMARY: “do you really fuck with me or no? Do you trust me enough? Do you love me like I love you Y/N”

WARNINGS: bit of arguing, self doubts, about forgive cheating, angst, fluff, smut, fingering, cum eating, multiple orgasms, they joined the mile high club lol, mirror sex, unprotected sex (please don’t), tummy bulging. I think that’s it lol.

previously… next…

You had hoped this wouldn’t have happened. You trusted him enough to believe he wouldn’t screw you over like that. That he wouldn’t ever hurt you this much, but, maybe you truly are too naive? Because time and time again, you end up getting hurt. Even by the people you believed loved you.

But doubting yourself like this, comparing yourself to other women because of a man, you truly can’t believe you let yourself stoop so low because of him. Sure you love him, maybe a little too much, and maybe that’s why it hurts so fucking much, but you thought you had your heart wrapped in bubble wrap. Protecting it from breaking again, and here we go, Job failed. Maybe you should slap a ‘fragile’ sticker on top of it as well.

The rain seemed to be pour out of a bucket as you walked the streets of Boston, unsure of where you are or where you’re going. Eventually, you found a small cafe, stopping inside to grab a hot mocha and think.

Perhaps, he wasn’t lying? Was he telling the truth or is that just your wishful thinking? What if he did sleep with that woman? What does that mean?

You loved him so much it was practically suffocating you. Every single inch of your soul ached for his company every minute of every day. If almost burned you painfully when he wasn’t connected to you in some type of way. Everyday that you wouldn’t be with him, was like you’ve been the sickest you could be. Deathly sick. It was nauseating being away from him.

The way he’d touch your skin, his finger tips trailing your delicate flesh so gently, minimally running his fingers up and down. The way his kisses would be so gentle but so rough, leaving purple bruises in the wake of his pillow-like lips. His mouth was dirty, so dirty, he’d tell you all the things he’d love to do to you, while his fingers would be dipping inside of you. He’d edge you closer and closer. Tell you how beautiful you’d look when you were in your most natural state, moaning, sweaty and flushed underneath him. He’d tell you how much he loved kissing you, how much he adored your skin, how good you were. His body would melt into your skin while he’d be thrusting into you so deeply you could feel him in your cervix, and still, he’d tell you how gorgeous you looked while you’d come. He’d tell you how your eyes glisten and how he could get lost in them.

It drove you insane, he drove you insane. He wasn’t meant to ever become this precious to you. This close and personal. You were never meant to fall in love with him, fuck.

Yet here you are, walking back to the hotel. Coming to terms with the fact that you’d push aside your own pain and ego, just to keep having him close. Just to make him yours. Just to keep feeling that ecstatic feeling every time he’d kiss you. It was a drug stronger than fentanyl. Than cocaine, than heroine. Anything. Love, was the drug that truly would fuck you up.

Standing in front of the door, you suck in a deep breath, dripping wet, you enter the room to a disorientated Jungkook.

You’re not sure how you woke up to only argue with him again. Still here you are, with your phone in hand, realising he actually was telling you the truth. He truly was only helping his friend out and for some reason that made you so upset.

But no body was as upset as Jungkook right now. Standing in front of you in nothing more than grey sweatpants. Shirtless and angry.

“I don’t understand how you could just leave like that? You didn’t even have half the mind to text even Minho to say you’re okay, or that you’re taking a walk? You had me going crazy, shit don’t you get it?” He says desperately.

You bite your lip, for once lost for words.

“I love you so much I was about to go out and leave everything behind just to find you. I was going to call everyone I knew around here to help find you, fuck can’t you see that I see no point without you?”

“Jungkook what are you saying? You’re telling me you love but how can you blame? We went from friendly to hating each other to sex, you gave me no clue that you’d even remotely love me. How was I suppose to know?”

“So me spending everyday with you, giving you my entire attention, being mesmerised by you didn’t tell you that I could at least have a crush on you? All the roses the teddies the gifts the fact that no other person had even half of the attention I was giving you, not even my sister, was not a sign?”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair, you really fucked up huh?

“I’m sorry.”

His brows furrow, he squats to your level, forehead against yours his hands cupping your face as he closes his eyes, “do you really fuck with me or no? Do you trust me enough? Do you love me like I love you Y/N?”

You nod, your hands wrapping around his wrists, “I love you even more Jungkook.”

Going back home was depressing. A whole different vibe to when you arrived in Boston. Though you’ve mended things with Jungkook, you don’t particularly think this will be an easy fix. Nor do you think anything will be the same, not after you both confessed to your feelings. It’d be weird to just ignore all that happened and just go back to what you were

Not to mention, you’d have to explain everything to yeji and just that thought makes you feel nauseas.

Jungkook sat beside you in the backseat of the van, black puffer coat on his upper half, paired with a with a black oversized short with a white turtleneck underneath and his baggy cargo pants. His accessories, the silver gun in particular, was your recent gift to him. As well as the rings on his fingers. You weren’t dressed as nicely, a basic white cropped puffer coat that had a hoodie lined with faux fur, underneath though, you wore your baby pink long sleeve but skin tight shirt, your pants were the most general white tracksuits. You wore a beanie on top of your head because you genuinely felt like you were going to freeze to death. Even in your basic outfit, he reminded you how beautiful you looked, and it made you feel guilty, because you didn’t have the trust in him, even if he gave you no reason to distrust him. Your trust issues were getting in the way, and sure, before everything, before this, it used to be a silly little joke. Not anymore though.

You realise now you have a lot of shit to work through. You hadn’t realised how messed up you were, really. This situation opened up your eyes and as you follow him to sit across him for breakfast before going to the airport, you sigh, mentally fighting yourself wether you should bring this issue up now, or perhaps when you get home and get settled, you’re not sure how much more disagreeing both of you can take. You’re really tired of it.

“Look at me,” his voice was gentle, dripping honey as he spoke to you, “no more running out on each other, let’s have a little more trust in each other hm? Let’s hear each other out before we jump to conclusions and work on this together. This wasn’t all your fault either. I messed up to.”

You closed your eyes in a silent plea to stop blaming himself, your heart clenching the more you realise how you must have really hurt him, “the truth is, you haven’t. You did nothing wrong, on the contrary actually, you did everything right. You took care of a friend who needed you, especially a woman who needed someone she could trust to get her home safely and you did just that. And I couldn’t be more proud of you, I’m sorry I reacted like that. Im sorry Jungkook.”

He licked his pierced lip, nodding his head gently, “no biggie, just promise me one thing.”

You nodded immediately, beginning to take your gloves off, “anything.”

“Don’t ever leave me like that again. Don’t just disappear on me. Matter of fact, just don’t leave my side ever.”

Your eyes soften, heart beating faster than a bulletin train, “I promise.”

“Then why are you still sitting there?, come here.” His arms opened wider, welcoming you to his side.

You sat beside him, curling up into his side as his arm dropped around you. If a doctor put a stethoscope to your chest right now they’d be getting a crash cart In seconds. Your heart was erratic, jumping, running, sprinting, cartwheeling around in your chest as his lips connected to yours for a sweet and gentle kiss. Sure, you’re slowly patching things up. But that doesn’t mean everything is alright, nothing is alright until you truly discuss what’s going on between you. What you want to do about it, and finally telling Yeji. It won’t be ok until then.

Still, it’s better than being silent towards each other.

Still your thoughts chased you, even while you were sat beside him in the plane. Your mind never shut off, it was constantly on repeat. Naming things that are wrong with you, slowly realising you’ve been hurting Jungkook without even realising it. The times you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d tell you, that you’re the most important person in life right now along side his sister. The times you’d ignore him protecting you for own good, just like he tried protecting you against Jimin. All the times you wouldn’t trust him. The times you’d always choose Yeji over him.

Fuck, you were so incredibly guilty.

Taking his hand in yours, you bring it up to your mouth, planting little kisses on it a million times, hugging his bicep closer to you as if you could mend the pain you caused him. Realistically, that’s impossible. If you knew sooner, the way your stupid self was affecting him. You’d have apologised sooner. He slept peacefully beside you, nose blushed pink along with his cheeks, eyelashes long and curly, and his lips were a bit dry, but you blame the cold weather for his soft pillowy lips turning this way because yours are also incredibly dry and chapped.

A couple hours in and Jungkook is wide awake, staring at you as you slowly wake up. His hand still in yours, albeit not held onto as tightly anymore. Still his smile widens as you fully look at him now, confused on why he has the mischievous glint In his eyes.

“I’m even in your dreams huh? Was I as good as I am in reality baby?” He smirked to himself as his nose buried in your hair.

Like a deer caught in headlights, your cheeks flushed, eyes round and big “what?”

“Be a good girl and meet me In the bathroom in five minutes hm?”

You watched him walk away, still shocked at what he meant. Well you knew what he meant you were just shocked. Still you checked your watch waiting another two minutes before you went to the bathroom eyes scanning the rows of people in case any of them knew, most were asleep some were too busy reading.

Knocking the door opens and you were snatched inside almost instantly. His lips were desperate on your own, practically bruising. You kissed back full force, back against the door as his hand skimmed the rim of your sweatpants, gentle and ghostly on your skin before his hand followed down, pulling your thong to the side as his fingers dipped between your lips, feeling just how soaked you were, dripping down your own thigh and it drove him mad.

“Fucking hell Y/N,” he groaned, “what am I gonna do with you mhm?”

You whimpered, hands balled into fists around his black shirt desperate to feel him inside of, rubbing your thighs together as your core tingled, desperately looking for relief.

“Please Kook, I need you to fill me up.”

Your pants were down your legs in seconds. And your body was pressed against the sink, the mirror hanging right in front of you showing you just how desperate you were. His body behind you as he positioned your body, your ass sticking out, and his cock dragged up and down between your folds, pulling little moans out of you. Your core practically screamed for him, tingling as if there were a hundred million butterfly’s there.

The tip of his cock stretched you out, and it already had you whimpering, falling apart as he whined a barely audible “damn” under his breath.

Jungkook set the pace rough and animalistic from the start. He wasn’t messing around. He hit that sweet spot inside you over and over, his larger hands tangled with yours over the edge of the skin, his body flush against your back as he fucked you so good, he looked back at you in the mirror, smirking.

“Look at yourself baby, look how fucking beautiful you are.. shit” he groaned as you clenched around him, your pussy throbbing around his fat cock as it pounded inside of you, his hand came up to grab onto your jaw forcing you to looking back at him in the mirror, “do you see it? How fucking perfect you are? That’s my girl”.

You moaned a bit too loud, his hand covering your mouth as he raised you to almost stand, flush against his chest as he began thrusting slower but so fucking deep. He brought the hand that was over yours towards your lower stomach, making you feel him thrusting in and out of you. He was balls deep, hitting every tiny nerve and you knew it was going to be messy, so messy. A few more deep thrusts and you cum around him, forming a white sticky juice around his cock as it dragged in and out, running around his fat dick and it was enough for him to shoot his load up inside you.

“Shit, my perfect little whore hm?”

“Yes.”

You winced as he pulled out, leaving an empty feeling inside of you. And you missed him already, clenching around nothing but rather spilling his cum out of you. He dropped to his knees, watching as it made a mess of your swollen pussy, and he’s not quite sure what possessed him, but he latched onto your cunt within seconds, licking you up and making you gasp at the over stimulation as his tongue lapped around your pussy, sucking and twirl on your clit before dragging his tongue inside your hole and your legs shook as you came down once again, shocked at his behaviour. Your hands tightly wrapped around his black hair.

“What the fuck.”

It was too late for this, but still, just as you entered Yejis apartment she immediately threw herself at you, hugging you as if she hasn’t seen you for years. You hugged her back, smiling from ear to ear. damn the woman’s strong she had you In a tight ass grip you could barely breathe.

As she sat you down at the couch you shared a look with Jungkook, knowing that at some point she’ll need to find out and for some reason it leaves your stomach in a twist. Afraid she’ll hate your guts for falling for her brother.

Still, he smirked at you as he went into his room, and you knew that little rendezvous in the plane was just the beginning to what he had in store for you and it made a shiver run down your back.

Eyes focusing on yeji ranting about something, your mind was on other things though it looked like you gave her your undivided attention and it was kinda mean of you but at the same time, you really didn’t want to hurt yeji.

Anyone, but Yeji.

A/N: sorry the chapters seem so short 😩 enjoy!!!

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Three hours ago Damian went MIA.

He was supposed to be on patrol but three hours twenty-six minutes and forty-five seconds ago he veered off route and hasn't answered any texts, calls, or alerts since. Luckily he hadn’t turned off his tracker so they could see he was on the seventh floor of a children’s hospital in the upper west-side.

Tim would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. Damian had been disappearing more and more often lately, but this was the first time he disappeared on patrol. Behind him Bruce was losing his mind, muttering to himself nonsense Tim didn’t bother trying to understand.

He was at the Batcomputer, hacking into the hospitals seventh floor emission room cameras and flicking through them to try and find Damian. Dick was at his left, scanning the footage for any clue of their brother’s whereabouts. Jason had his feet kicked up on his right, pretending like he didn’t care, but he was watching just as intently.

Case was trying to get Bruce to sit down and actually breath, Steph was still on patrol and Duke was dead to the world. He was pretty sure Alfred knew where Damian was going and probably had a good clue as to where he was now, but if he wasn’t saying anything Tim knew better than to ask.

Finally, they got something. Well, a bit more than something. Ok, a lot more. It was a double room, with a standard bed in front of the door and a crib across up against the wall. To the left of the standard bed were two nightstands. The first one had a light show projector shaped like a UFO, a phone charger, laptop, several fidget toys and a kalimba. The second was empty and the crib had a collapsed gate inside it. Next to the bed was a couch with a few bags sitting next to it.

In the standard bed was Damian, drawing in a sketchbook he knew wasn’t his just from the stickers on the cover. But next to him, cuddled up to him, was a girl. She was African with gold eyes and curly baby blue hair in a bob. The ends of her curls faded into multiple colors, giving the impression of a rainbow and blue sky. She was wearing a hospital gown, and Damian was wearing….a shirt that said ‘cotton candy club’ in pastel blue purple and pink with cartoon cotton candy???

The computer told him her name was Lydia Lippet, who’s family, friends and nurses nicknamed ‘Fireworks’. She was sixteen and suffered from the genetic disorder AIP–Acute Intermittent Porphyria.

He, Dick and Jason stared for a second. “Uh, B? Cass? We found him, but—Well, your not going to believe this.” “O. M. G! A girlfriend! He has a girlfriend! Oh how could we ignore the signs!?” Dick cheered as Bruce and Cass rushed to the batcomputer. They all watched as the girl-Lydia-snuggled closer to Damian, who smiled and pulled her closer by the arm around her waist.

Bruce watched silently, almost gaping. Cass just smiled. Jason took a picture then started texting so fast Tim worried he’d break his fingers. “Tim, rewind the footage and find out when Damian entered.” Bruce said, sounding confused and a little worried. Tim rewinded until he found the moment Damian, as Robin, entered through the large window.

They watched as he stared at Lydia for a minute, his eyes wide and trailing all over her. Now the crib was next to the bed and the gate was open, and the area between the beds had a blanket and all sorts of baby stuff laid out and the couch was under the window. The baby gave a little gurgle and he jumped like he didn’t know it was there. Lydia sat up and looked towards him. “Damian.” She sounded breathless, a little rough with a thick Gotham accent. “Lydia.” He sounded almost heartbroken, rushing to her side.

“What—Is this why you haven’t been answering your phone? Have you been here for two weeks? What happened?” Lydia laughed sadly. She scooted over and patted the bed, making Damian paused. He looked to the door and the nurses window then back at her. “Can I change before we speak? I don’t—“ he stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to leave you.” Dick ruined the moment when he ‘aww’ed. Jason told him to shut up.

Lydia nodded and motioned to a possum-shaped plush backpack on the table across from the cradle. “I ‘ave some shirts and pants in Moonstone. The bathrooms that door.” Damian grabbed the shirt they’d seen him wearing and a pair of pink pajama pants. He was in and out in less than five minutes, which was a new record. Getting out of costume took time.

Lydia giggled softly. “Ya’ look great.” Damian huffed. “I could say the same about you.” She giggled again and hugged him as soon as he got in the bed. He stiffened for a second before relaxing and practically melting into the hug. Damian sighed and whispered, “I missed you.” Lydia hugged him tighter. “Missed you more.” They pulled back and stared at each other—

And Lydia burst into tears.

Unfortunately a nurse walked in right as she threw herself onto him and cried. The nurse stood dumbfounded as she watched Damian Wayne shush and comfort Lydia. He noticed the nurse and leaned forward. “Please leave. And don’t let the press know. For her,” he motioned to Lydia then behind him, “and the infant’s sake.”

The nurse nodded and quickly left, and Tim pulled up another camera. Thankfully the nurse kept to herself and even put a ‘do not disturb’ sign outside of the room and closed the blinds on the door and nurses window. He kept that camera up just in case but focused back on Damian and Lydia.

She was talking as she cried. “I-hic-I wanted to call ya’—“ she choked on her tears and Damian pulled her to his chest. “You don’t need to explain,نجم شمال, just let it out.” She shook her head. “I—Jazz—“ She bit her lip and looked at the cradle. The baby, Jazz, gave a tiny coo and Damian seemed to understand.

“Ok, breath for me, in and out slowly. Just like that.” In five minutes she was calm again, cradled against Damian’s chest as he ran his hand through her hair, lightly pulling a strand on his finger than letting it bounce back. Lydia had her eyes closed, a content expression on her face. “Thank you.” She whispered, opening her eyes and gazing up at him.

“Of course.” He whispered back, continuing to play with her hair. Dick was silently screaming, jumping up and down. Bruce had sat down and was watching intently. Cass was jumping with Dick. Tim was trying to piece together how long this has been going on. Damian started disappearing about two and a half years ago, so they’d definitely had time to get to know one another.

“Five years ago,” Lydia started, “I was diagnosed with AIP—Acute Intermittent Porphyria.” She pressed a button on the side of the bed that made the back end start to raise. “It’s a rare genetic disorder that has a lotta stupid triggers,” she continued, “like infections, hormones, and sunlight. Well, those are my triggers.”

“AIP sucks cause’ it’s not only rare, but symptoms and triggers are so different b’tween every person. Don’help that a lot of them are asymptomatic. It took like, a whole year in this hospital to get diagnosed.” She chuckled sadly and leaned against the bed when it was raised all the way up.

“What are your symptoms?” Damian asked softly. She huffed and put her ear to his chest. “It starts with a lot of vomiting. Like, not like there’s a lot of vomit, more like I vomit everything. Food, applesauce, pills, even water comes up in less than five minutes. Sometimes thirty seconds.”

Even water? That wasn’t good, and he could tell Damian was thinking the same thing from the way his eyes narrowed. “Then the pain starts. Abdominal pain so bad that it hurts ta’ breath. Talkin’ becomes unbearable, much less moving. And—moving.” Lydia stopped and sniffled, raising her hand. Or, trying to. A little below her neck her hand stopped and began shaking, like it was stuck in place.

He was confused for a second, but then he took in the way her hand was curled into a fist, how her fingers twitched but then returned to the same position, the tears filling her eyes. “You can’t move your hands.” Damian realized. He sounded horrified. “And if talking hurts, then singing—your instruments—“ He looked around the room before looking back to her. “Your legs as well?”

Lydia nodded sadly, letting her hand drop. “My body can’t get the nutrients it needs, so it takes it from my muscles.” She tried to open her hand with her other, but that hand was stuck in a fist too. “My body is cannibalizing itself. We’re lucky we caught it early this time. The last time it started attacking my bones.”

“You can’t sing.” Damian said again. “You can’t dance, play your instruments, draw. You’ve lost your music.” Lydia nodded again, biting her bottom lip. She took a shaky breath before continuing. “Another thing that happens is that—well, all this starts ‘cause m’body doesn't have an enzyme that it’s supposed to. And that causes it to produce another, really bad enzyme.”

“All this—we don’t really know why this is happening since it hasn’t happened with many other people with AIP, but—um.” She took another deep breath, looking Damian in the eye. “My kidneys are shutting down.” At Damian’s expression she backtracked. “Well, they were, but now their not! But their in real bad shape and that ain’t even talkin’ about my liver or appendix which by the way? Did’ya know all this could cause my appendix to burst?”

She smiled weakly as Damian immediately began fussing over her. Asking if she was in pain right now, pressing different parts of her stomach and asking if it hurt, if she’d drank any water, if she could. It was honestly really cute. He and Jason shared grins as Dick and Cass began talking about stories they could tell her, how they could introduce themselves. Bruce sat silently, looking stunned but a little pleased.

“This attack isn’t as bad as last time,” She reassured him, “and it’s nowhere near as bad as the first.” There was a story there, a sad one from the way she said it but she didn’t continue and Damian didn’t push. Jazz began babbling loudly and crawling around the crib. Lydia smiled.

“That’s Jasmine, but I call her Jazz. Baby’s ain’t suppose’ to room with anyone older than one but she needed to be emitted badly so they asked if she could stay with me. Obviously I said yes. Hiya lovebug!” Jazz squealed and sat up, clapping her hands. Damian watched as Lydia cooed and played peek-a-boo with her blanket, Jazz babbling like crazy.

“Uh oh,” Jason snorted, “I know that look.” He was right—they'd seen that face more than once. Usually before Damian brought home an animal he realistically shouldn’t have been able to find in New Jersey. Damian stood up and went around the room, putting on bright red shoes and a pastel rainbow puffer jacket and picked up the possum bag. “What’cha doing?” Lydia seemed amused. Probably because her fashion style looked a little ridiculous on Damian.

“Im going to your apartment and collecting things I know you'd like to have. And while you are not capable of using some of them such as your instruments and sketchbooks I’d enjoy practicing your art style and learning a new instrument. Jasmine would also enjoy some entertainment, no?”

Lydia stared for a few seconds before her eyes filled with tears. She used her shoulder to wipe her eyes and motioned Damian forward. When he was within reach she pulled him down by his shirt to hug him. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile and say something back before leaving through the window. Tim sped up the footage until Damian returned, which was an hour later. The bag didn’t look to be full, and thinking about it, how was he supposed to fit instruments and sketchbooks in a backpack that size? He gave the backpack to her, took off the shoes and jacket and got back into the bed, smiling as she gasped.

She reached in and pulled out the kalimba from before which was wider than the bag and a colorful hip-chain with six rainbow stars, each one with a clip on the bottom connected to a ribbon that seemed to be a backwards rainbow. The first three ribbons were wrapped around and holding small poké balls, while the other three were empty.

Lydia positioned her hands on the kalimba before playing. Even with her hands, which took her a minute to get into the right position, she played it beautifully. Damian listened to the upbeat song for a moment. “An Irish jig?” Lydia nodded. “The Butterfly by Tommy Potts.” Jazz squealed at the song, clapping her hands and crawling around her cradle.

Lydia smiled and continued playing, asking Jazz if she liked it when she was done. Jazz screamed and babbled happily, bouncing in place and waving and clapping her hands. Lydia looked in the bag again, this time pulling out a flute longer than the bag?? Tim looked between his siblings and father as they took in the footage.

Jason began laughing, probably at Bruce’s face. “The brats girlfriends a meta! An unknown meta in Gotham!” Bruce, who had unfortunately taken off his cowl while watching the footage, looked simultaneously devastated and confused. “She could be a magician!” Dick said, patting Bruce on the back. “Maybe it’s like Mary Poppins or Hermione Grangers never ending bag!”

Damian gave her a look, but Lydia said she needed to exercise her lungs. He huffed, but helped her raise her hands. The next song she played was very different from the one before, and Tim recognized it immediately. “That’s Isabella’s Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.” Dick and Jason nodded, Cass doing the same from her seat next to Bruce. Bruce looked a little confused before Cass signed to him ‘anime’.

Jazz made a ‘whoaaaaa’ sound and listened intently. Damian was listening as well, and as the first verse ended he began to sing.

‘Let me sing a lullaby

As you close your eyes

And as your drifting off to sleep

How I hope that the dreams that find you

Are bright’

Damians voice was surprisingly nice, slightly deep and his accent a bit more pronounced. He had an arm wrapped around Lydias waist and his eyes closed. He looked calm.

‘Love can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies?

Where a tomorrow waits for you and I

So hold me tight one more time, but don’t say goodbye

‘Cause I know that I’ll see you on the other side’

Lydia had her eyes closed too, swaying slightly to the tune. Jazz looked mesmerized.

‘I will think of our song when the nights are too long’

Damian opened his eyes and gazed at Lydia

‘I’ll dream of you for that’s where I belong

Love, can we meet again soon in the bluest of skies

Only, in my dreams, do we meet again’

Damian’s voice ended on the same tune as the flute, and when the note ended Lydia opened her eyes. They locked eyes and stayed that way until Jazz squealed. Damian blinked rapidly for a few seconds before blushing, Lydia laughing even though her face was turning red as well.

“You’ve gotten better.” She leaned into him as Damian huffed, looking away but pulling her even closer. Damian was going to retort but the door opened again and two people entered. One was a black women shorter than Damian with greying thick curly hair similar to Lydias pulled into a large bun, and the other was a tall heavyset white man with a receding hairline and grey beard. The computer told him they were Laura and Logan Lippet, Lydia’s parents.

They had styrofoam take out boxes and a drink carrier. They stopped when they saw Damian, but then continued on. “Hey Damian!” Mr.Lippet said, putting the boxes on the table. “Was wondering when you’d show up.” Mrs.Lippet and Lydia laughed as Damian smiled, accepting Mrs.Lippets hug. “When’d you get here? Or how’s a better word.” She laughed and handed a box to Lydia and sat a drink on the nightstand.

“Garlic pasta!” She cheered, kissing her moms cheek. “I just came back after, uh. I broke into your apartment again, but only to collect Lydias things.” Mr.Lippet threw his head back and laughed as Mrs.Lippet smiled and shook her head. “As to how, don’t worry about it.” The Lippets laughed again. “Did you see the brownies Liam made?” “Yes, he added pistachios this time.”

“They seem weirdly chill about a billionaires son breaking into their house and getting into their daughters hospital room.” Jason commented, Tim and the others agreeing. Lydias parents had expected Damian to not only show up, but eat their food when entering their house? Either Damian was closer to these people than they thought, or the Lippets were a little crazy. Judging from the records he was seeing, it looked like the latter.

“That’s weird,” Tim hummed, “there’s records of her meta gene, but for some reason we didn’t get an alert.” Usually every time a meta was documented in Gotham they would be sent an alert about it through a not-so-legal chain system Babs set up. But even though Lydias meta gene was reported when she was three, they’d never gotten an alert. Well, now that Tim was looking, they had. But it’d been deleted very recently.

Apparently her ability was ‘Art Manifestation’. Tim didn’t know what that meant, but he had a feeling they’d find out. He brought up the file next to the camera where the Lippets and Damian were talking and laughing. Damian was holding Lydias drink just out of reach, laughing as she tried to grab it with her teeth. “Use your hands,” he taunted her, “it’s physical therapy!” Her parents roared with laughter as Lydia began hitting him as best she could. She was laughing with them.

A little while later Jazz's parents came in with a nurse. They had the normal reaction to seeing Damian Wayne cuddling with Lydia. “Hey Joseph, hey Ariana!” Mr.Lippet called to the stunned couple, “This is Damian, Lydias boyfriend.” Damian greeted them as politely as he could with Lydia teaching him how to use the portable loom she’d apparently forgotten she had in the possum bag.

“Their dating!?” Dick gasped. “Isn’t that what you said?” “I was joking! Oh my god, Damian actually has a girlfriend!” Jason laughed again and Dick began panicking. “Oh we were supposed to spy on their first date! And mess with Damian about it, figure out her favorite things so we could tell Damian, oh my god we missed seeing them on Valentine’s Day!” Cass patted his back. ‘There will still be valentines days to see and things to bully Damian about. I do not think they’ve had sex yet.’

Bruce choked. “Cass!” She gave him a confused expression as Jason laughed harder. Dick continued to sulk. “I don’t wanna know about that stuff…..I hope he at least tells us about their first date.” “I’m more interested in how they met. Lydia seems pretty forward so far.” Jason snorted. “You think she asked him out?” Tim shrugged. “You think Damian would’ve?”

Apparently Jazz was getting moved to Boston Children’s Hospital for further treatment. Damian and the Lippets helped her parents pack up Jazz’s toys while Lydia tried to persuade them to let her help. “I can stand!” She whined. “But you can’t for a long time,” her dad responded, “and while your stretching has helped a lot we don’t want you over exerting yourself and getting hurt.”

“Has she been seen by physical therapy?” Damian asked. Her mom huffed. “She’s supposed to see them every day, but just like last time we’ve only seen them the first day. They come in, tell us she’ll be seen every day and then we never see them again!” Damian gave an unpleased ‘Tt’ as he folded Jazz’s blankets.

In a few minutes they were ready to leave and the Lippets cheerfully said their goodbyes, Damian doing so awkwardly. After they left Lydia reached over and opened her computer. “Now it’s horror movie time!” The Lippets laughed as Damian raised an eyebrow and sat next to her. “You couldn’t watch them before?”

“Not with Jazz in the room,” she muttered, switching between scrolling and typing. “Don’ wanna traumatize the baby. Y’all feeling like a thriller or gore?” Her dad looked over her shoulder from where he was standing. “Damian, you ever seen ‘Someone Marry Barry’?” Mrs.Lippet snorted as Lydia groaned.

“We are not watching a romcom.” “Why not?” Her dad whined. “Netflix just got like seven new more!” Damian smiled as Lydia argued with her dad. He seemed more relaxed with them than he did at the manor. Lydia and her dad got into a slap fight. It felt weird to watch normal people play fighting. Usually when they play fought it’d involve actual weapons and strategies to find the best place to tickle.

But Lydia and her dad were normal people. They slapped each other harmlessly, without worrying if they’d accidentally hurt them. Lydia shrieked with delight as her dad grabbed her and shook her around, chanting ‘Romcom, romcom, romcom!’ “Alright alright alright!” She giggled, “we’ll watch one horror one romcom, how’bout that?” Her dad agreed and pulled the table from across her bed to the foot of the bed. He then moved the crib to the position they’d first seen it in.

While Lydia found a movie Mr.Lippet moved the couch from under the window next to the bed. He and Mrs.Lippet settled on the couch, Mrs.Lippet with crochet and Mr.Lippet with his own computer. “We can watch the Evil Dead series! They just made a new movie!” Lydia said excitedly, showing Damian a movie screen that he’d seen trailers for. Damian tilted his head.

“How will we watch a series when we’re switching genres?” “We watch one, watch one of dad’s shitty romcoms, then the second movie, and so on!” Mr.Lippet snorted, “Just for that I’m going to make your Roblox avatar ugly.” They all laughed. “Hey! Don't do that! I can’t fight back, we’re watching movies!” Her dad playfully rolled his eyes and muttered “hang on,” and began typing very fast.

“Lydia, turn on the TV.” She did. They waited as he typed very fast for a few minutes before the hospital TV glitched, blacked out and then showed Lydias computer screen on Prime. They cheered. “What the fuck?” Jason said, “How the hell’d he do that?” Tim shrugged. “I’m not surprised,” Barbara’s voice came through over comms, “He’s the configuration manager for TSA, and before that he was IT, and before that he was CIA, and before that he was Navy Seal. He’s on the no fly list because he used to be a spy in the CIA.”

Oh. “And he lives in Gotham….why? Does he have any connection with any rogues?” “He was born in Michigan, Laura in Texas, and they married in Virginia and then moved around a lot because of the military. They were in Hawaii before they were deployed here at the harbor, Logan retired, and they had Lydia and her brother Liam. They’re Irish twins, she’s October 15th 2007 and he’s the 17th 2008. No connection to any rouges other than accidentally meeting Scarecrow in civies and telling him to go fuck himself for his bad parking.”

They all laughed as Lydia used the hospital remote to choose the first Evil Dead movie. Then she pulled out another computer and handed it to Damian, and pulled her computer off the table and into her lap. She typed a little, then gasped. “Hey! That’s not nice!” Damian laughed as her dad retorted, “Calling romcoms shitty isn’t nice! Enjoy your skeleton!” Damian snorted. An actual snort.

Was he dead? Hallucinating? Dreaming? Or did he actually hear Damian Wayne snort? “Well, I approve.” Jason laughed as Lydia and Damian began playing Roblox with her dad. “She’s making him laugh, he’s relaxed, he gets along well with her parents and her parents are apparently super cool with all his weirdness. I think we’re looking at the future Mrs. Wayne!” Honestly? He wouldn’t mind having another new and weird addition to this family.

[penguintransporter]

Walker (John Stones imagine) Part III

Okay, this is definitely turning into a story, rather than imagine, but I am so enjoying writing this, but I think since the chapters are much shorter, it’ll need two more chapters to complete it. This one is dedicated to everyone who has read and liked the previous chapters, but especially @rosie7703 hope you enjoy this one as well. Read, enjoy, like, comment, reblog, whatever you feel like doing. Love you all!

Part I | Part II

Rosie’s phone vibrated in the back pocket of her dark, denim jeans, and when she reached out for it to check it, she couldn’t help but smile like a fool at the name that was written on the screen. 

Have a safe trip, Rosie.

Sheepishly, she sucked in her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling her heartbeat accelerate - fingers hovering over the reply button. When she gave him the phone number the night before, and told him to text her, she never thought he would actually do it, but he did - the very same night, giving her the reason to stay awake more than she had planned too.

Rosie kept smiling to herself as she thought about her answer, but as she was about to type it, the doors of her brother’s room opened with a small squeak, making her lock the phone and put it away. 

“What drugs did you take this morning?” her brother asked, walking through the narrow doorway and into the kitchen, wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and a wrinkled t-shirt with the emblem of his favourite football club, embroidered on the left side of his chest. Both items that he was wearing were way too small for him and his lanky figure - trousers barely reaching his ankles. “Having you smile like that so early in the morning is unsettling.”

Rosie grinned, looking over her shoulder at her younger sibling as she filled the old kettle with tap water, suddenly feeling sad for him. He was slumped over in a single barstool, and with his messy hair and tired face-expression, he looked as if a boulder ran him over. Twice.

“Obviously, not the same as you,” she answered, knowing perfectly that she was about to hit the right nerve. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” he muttered, lifting his head for a second from where it rested on the kitchen counter, “and I think, your happiness makes me sick to my stomach. Can you go back to being your boring self?”

Rosie only rolled her eyes at her brother’s childish behaviour before placing the kettle on the already warm hob - droplets of water sliding down and onto the stove and turning into the steam instantly. 

“It’s hardly my happiness that makes you sick to your stomach,” she spoke calmly, “it’s the amount of alcohol and God knows what that you’ve consumed in the past week,” Rosie added with a grin, opening the cupboard to pick a mug from the empty shelf. How her brother survived with three mugs and two plates was beyond the mystery to her. “Cuppa?”

Her brother didn’t look up, but managed to raise his hand a little before flipping her off, and Rosie couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What I need is something that will fix my head?” he muttered quietly, shaking his head before wincing - a small profanity leaving his mouth. 

“I’ve got Ibuprofen,” Rosie offered. 

“Nah,” he responded, sliding down from the stool before walking to the refrigerator - the white front of it covered in way too many red stickers, matching to the emblem on his t-shirt. 

Rosie shrugged as she proceeded to pour the boiling water over her teabag, watching her brother from the corner of her eye as he took out a bag with, what looked like, frozen dumplings before putting it on top of his head - wincing a little as he did so. She tried to contain her laughter inside her throat as she looked back at her tea, pressing her lips together. 

“Hey,” she started, trying to subtly change the topic, “I need to ask you something.” Her brother ignored her as he made his way towards the sitting room, and Rosie sighed, unsure how to formulate her question without sounding too eager. “Do you know any lads named John?”

Her brother looked at her from where he was half-sitting, half-laying on the sofa with Walker sitting next to him - the dog’s head resting in her brother’s lap. 

“Here? In Barnsley?” he asked as Rosie made her way towards him, stepping over her weekender bag that rested on the floor, along with her trainers and a tote-bag with some snacks for her trip home to Manchester. Rosie nodded, humming softly, while trying to contain her giddiness. “I know a few, why?”

“Any of them have tattoos?” she asked, sitting down before setting her cup of tea on a random brochure from the local sushi place. 

“John Sutcliffe has a panda bear on his arse, but you know him. Why?”

Rosie made a small grimace, remembering who exactly John Sutcliffe was and why she remembered him in the first place. Their first encounter ended up with him stealing a pair of knickers from Rosie’s bedroom and taking it to the school with him to brag about sleeping with his mate’s older sister.

“Ah,” she murmured, trying to pretend that she wasn’t bothered by the information that her brother gave her. “I just met a lad the other day in the park,” she started again, “his face was oddly familiar and I was wondering if I’ve met him before. I thought it was maybe one of your mates.”

Her brother gave her a small, disinterested shrug, and Rosie sighed, reaching out to stroke Walker’s furry back as she took a small sip of her tea.

“It’s none that I know. The Johns that I know, two of them live in London, and the other two visit the park only at night, to drink with the bums.”

“I assume Sutcliffe is one of them,” Rosie murmured, making her brother throttle as he turned on TV. 

Rosie leaned back into the sofa, taking her phone out of her pocket and looking at the screen - the stream of messages they exchanged last night greeting her. With a slide of her finger, she scrolled through them - a small smile appearing on her lips as she stopped at the particular text that made her heart skip a beat. 

I really want to see you again.

“Speaking of lads named John,” her brother’s voice caught her attention, stopping her train of thoughts, and she curiously looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “There’s John Stones, and he’s originally from around here, a bit older than me. But, he might as well not be from around here,” he said as he placed his feet on the coffee table in front of them. “Don’t like him.”

“And he lives in Barnsley now?” she asked, eager to hear the answer - anticipation eating her on the inside. Her brother grinned at her, adjusting the bag of frozen dumplings that he still held on top of his head. “What?” Rosie inquired, almost defensively. 

Her younger sibling kept his smirk on as he pointed at the TV screen with the hand in which he still held the TV remote. “You are so useless,” he muttered, “how do you even live in Manchester? It’s just bloody amazing…” he trailed off, and Rosie huffed slightly in annoyance, causing her brother to chuckle. “No, he doesn’t live in Barnsley, Rosie,” her brother drawled out, “because he’s a bloody Citizen. Liked him much better when he was at Everton.”

With a confusion etched across her face, Rosie slowly moved her gaze from her brother’s amused face and at the TV - the phone she held in her hands instantly dropping into her lap as her eyes met with the familiar blue ones.

He looked tired, but content as he stood in front of a Sky Sports backdrop, wearing a light blue jacket - his hair as sweaty as on the day when she first met him. With a small smile, John was nodding at the journalist who was asking him something, but despite the volume being high, she couldn’t hear a word because her heartbeat was drumming loudly inside her ears. 

She kept her eyes focused on the man on the screen, and when he laughed at whatever they were talking about, Rosie’s heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

*

Hope  you like it. Tagging quickly @avenirdelight because she asked me to do so. If you want to be tagged as well, let me know.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

You go limp like a rag doll as your consciousness is shunted into cyberspace.

You're still vaguely aware of yourself and your surroundings, the heat of the stasis gel sinking into your bones.

The whir and hum of machinery. 

Slowly 

Slowly…

They fade away into the background until it's just you, just your thoughts loose in a sea of ones and zeroes. 

You're met with the standard warning screen that comes with basically all video games of any persuasion, and you swiftly ignore it as is your habit.

The game loads in pretty much immediately afterwards, no dev logos or extra fluff or anything. 

"Ursumbra Online" fades in, written in big bright bubble letters with different colored patches held on by stitching; the "online" bit is written in a more pixelated font on a piece of masking tape slapped (almost haphazardly) onto the bottom of "Ursumbra". 

The title screen is unassuming, a cardboard and craft supplies collage like Yoshi's Crafted World. 

Soft and childish. 

It reminds you of Doki Doki Literature Club and Madoka Magica.

That specific brand of soft pastels and cuteness laid thin over something dark and vaguely traumatizing. 

Like flower petals over a spike pit.

You're prompted to make a new account, and you do without hesitation. 

Wait for the verification email, punch in the code.

Bing, bang, boom.

You're in. 

A disclaimer pops up next and physically forces you to read it (see: scroll to the bottom as fast as you can) before you're allowed to progress any further.

It's charming the way the different sections of the UI drop down on colorful strings or pop up on popsicle sticks. 

For a moment you think that there's no way this game could be tied to what's going on past sheer coincidence. 

There's a meter at the top of your screen, detailing the process you must follow before you're allowed to enter the game.

The boring stuff is behind you already. 

Account creation.

TOS agreements. 

Disclaimers.

Sensory input calibration (that tickled).

Now comes the fun part, character creation. 

You are presented with two choices, to make your own character completely from scratch.

Or to use an avatar created from biometric scan. 

The game pitches the scan to you as "a way to show your true self in Ursumbra and make your play through truly unique and personal!"

… your play through would be unique and personal regardless of what avatar you chose, cuz that's how MMO games work.

Curiosity creeps into the back of your mind like smoke through an open window, and you feel some invisible string around your throat tug you towards the biometric option. 

"If you don't like it, you can always make one from scratch." Says a slippery little voice in the back of your mind. 

You click OK and the display turns black for a bit before cartoonish laser grids scan you up and down while goofy beeping noises play.

Your skull itches from the inside, and the entire program seems to rattle and buffer as a child's drawing pad drops down from up high on a piece of brightly colored string.

A red crayon rolls out of the gloom and floats up to meet the pad, slowly it scribbles and sketches and erases until it finally seems satisfied with what it's drawn. 

On the paper is a black rabbit with big dark eyes, nubby little horns, sharp claws, and little fangs.

A devil's tail curls towards the edge of the paper.

A piece of cardboard pops out of the gloom, taped to a popsicle stick and smothered in stickers.

"Are you happy with this avatar?" It reads.

You press "ok" before you can really think about it and all the craft supplies drop into the void without a word.

A mirror appears next, rising out of the blackness and cradled in dozens of inky hands.

In the mirror is a shape.

White cotton fluff condensed into the vague shape of a teddy bear without skin.

Skeins of fabric drop from above and behind you like curtains on a stage.

Scissors and needles merrily dance around you, trailing ribbons and thread.

Snip snip.

Stitch stitch.

You watch as your fabric skin is cut and sewn around you.

A chest of buttons and bobs appears and two dark eyes fly from its clattering depths, smacking full force into your face where they stay.

You blink in surprise, batting huge feathery lashes that weren't in the original sketch. 

Shiny sharp claws sprout from the tips of your paws.

A tail is pinned to your rear 

And the tips of the scissors glide across your face to give you your mouth, somehow already toothy and grinning.

You know this is just a cutscene but… it makes you feel giddy.

Makes you feel NEW.

A silver pocket watch is tucked into the fluff of your chest, just before the last few stitches make you whole. 

The process is complete. 

You get a moment to check yourself out in the mirror before the floor drops out beneath you and plummet into the abyss. 

The mirror waves a solemn goodbye as it shrinks into the distance. 

[pockyxx]

I am requesting Iwa-chan pleaseee.

yes, yes i can. i’m sorry if this is so bad i legit had no clue what to do 😭 if i delete it, i’ll probably write something else w iwa chan 😩

“ confession letter ”

h. iwaizumi x fem!reader 

genre: fluff. barely crack humour at the end. tiny winy bit of hurt/comfort.

iwaizumi always had an eye on you, watching you from the other side of the classroom. it started as a small crush but slowly grew into something more. it wasn’t difficult to, though, you’d always come to watch their practice and you got along well with the team.

he found you so fascinating, being so quiet and reserved in class but loud and energetic around the team, specifically oikawa. the two of you seemed to get along great. that’s what lead to his self-doubt.

he always thought you had a crush on the setter and that he didn’t stand a chance. hell, iwaizumi was always used by oikawa’s fangirls whenever they needed love letters to be passed along. not to mention he was always in the back ground when they would gift the captain homemade chocolates or cookies.

so, seeing you nervously approach him in the club room after practice with something in your clutches set off a flame inside of him. he kept his face straight, not turning to face you as you got closer. 

“uh, iwaizumi-san?” you bit your lip, waiting to meet his eyes but it took longer than usual. you could feel your heart beating rapidly, your fingers shaking out of nervousness. 

iwaizumi didn’t say anything as he slightly pivoted, his locker door was still open and he had a towel hanging around his neck. his eyes trailed down to the letter you held onto, in a pink envelope, sealed with a cute little heart sticker. 

“is that for oikawa?” he grunted, tossing his sweat towel back into the locker before slamming the locker door, startling you. “of course it is.”

you opened your mouth, trying to figure out how to explain that it was for him but you were too late as iwaizumi snatched the confession out of your hand and stormed off. 

he was never one to loose his cool like that in front of you but he was human, and it happens. he didn’t even bother to say anything else to you although as he turned his head you’d already disappeared. 

iwaizumi frowned, shoving the letter into his back pocket without giving it a second glance, figuring he should find oikawa and hand over your confession letter. 

his hands became fists as he saw oikawa laughing along side mattsun and makki. with his lips pressed together, the third years quickly picked up on his off putting mood. 

“did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?” makki jested, nudging the ace. once again, iwaizumi scowled and tried to compose himself. he pulled out the love note he kept in his pocket, it had filled with crinkles as a result of the mishandling. 

“this is for you.” he didn’t feel bad that the envelope had gotten folded, in fact it eased his almost vengeful spirit. because it was wrinkled up, the girl he liked wouldn’t be able to confess to her crush like she hoped. oikawa could already guess the contents of the letter, he opened it with excitement.

clearing his voice, he began reading out loud much to the amusement of the other third years.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t say this in person but i hope you understand.” he paused, watching as the others giggled. “i really needed to tell you how i feel... and to be honest i was scared to see your reaction face to face...”

oikawa stopped reading out loud, his eyes quickly trailing through the rest of the letter.

“why’d you stop?” mattsun pouted along with makki. oikawa frowned, looking back up at his friends.

“say iwa chan, who gave you this?” he narrowed his eyes while looking at his best friend, realizing the note of wasn’t meant for him, specifically by the use of the same ‘iwaizumi.’

iwaizumi huffed, crossing his arms but at the same time trying to seem in different.

“y/n.” oikawa raised his eyebrows and the others shut their mouths and stopped their playful side banter.

“what did she say when she gave it to you?” oikawa interrogated, hands on his hips. iwaizumi looking dead on at the setter.

“she... she didn’t say anything...” he recounted the events for his friends while they all seemed disappointed.

“you’re pretty dense, y’know.” oikawa teased, “take another look at the letter.” he handed it back to iwaizumi, walking off with mattsun and makki.

looking down at the pink paper, he observed the hand writing, smiling at how neatly you printed. iwaizumi swallowed any type of fear and began reading the letter.

i’m sorry that i couldn’t say this to you in person but i hope you understand. i really needed to tell you how i feel... and to be honest i was scared to see your reaction face to face. we’ve been classmates and friends for a while and i was terrified we’d ruin what we already had and that things would get awkward. but my friends told me i should be honest with you, iwaizumi. well, at least as honest as i can be through a letter. i like you. a lot. so by the time you read this you could text me or tell me in person your response. i’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and i understand if you think we should end our prexisting relationship.

he frowned, how could he be so stupid? he knew he had to find you, rushing across campus until he could hear muffled sniffles from behind the gym. right when he heard them, he knew they belonged to you. 

you were all curled up, back leaning against the wall and rubbing your puffy red eyes. 

“y/n?” he clearly caught you off guard as you jumped at the sound of his voice. biting your lip, you look up to him, on the verge of crying again. “do you mind if i sit down?” 

you waited for a quick second, wiping your eyes once before nodding. iwaizumi sat down next to you, shoulder’s touching. you didn’t know what to say and you were pretty sure iwaizumi didn’t know either. 

“i’m sorry.” he admitted, he wasn’t very good at verbally conveying emotion. pressing your lips together, whispering a small ‘it’s okay.’ 

“no, it’s really not. i shouldn’t have reacted like that, i should’ve given you a minute to talk.. I just.. I thought you were going to give it to shittykawa.” you giggled slightly at the vulgar nickname, which made iwa’s heart flutter, giving him a sign he was some what on the right track with his words. 

“because the thing is y/n, i feel the same. so i was stupid and got jealous thinking that you likes him.” you nodded in understanding, hugging your knees and realizing what that meant, you broke out into an overwhelming blush. 

hiding your face from him once more, he honestly got scared he’d done something to upset you even more. 

“hey, hey don’t cry.” he let his actions speak first, pulling you by your shoulders and cradled your head with his hands. it was easy to say your brain had stopped working at that point. 

“uh, iwaizumi-san, i can’t breath.” you poked his bicep and he quickly let go. both of you had an equally deep blush on your faces. you looked away, 

“so, do you wanna get boba?” he asked awkwardly trying to change to subject. what else was he supposed to do? you agreed with a smile, walking with him laughing at the misunderstanding. 

it was an odd day to say the least. 

[dulce-pjm]

under the table

word count: 3.8k

genre: fluff

summary: you’re doing great! 100% amazing. a-okay! alright, no you’re not. but what does everyone say is the perfect cure for a heart that never had the chance to be broken? game night, of course! but knowing you, there will always be complications. 

You’re at peace. 

When things are like this, the universe is in harmony. You’re tucked away from the rest of the world, cuddled up under a blanket next to the thing most important to you, a relaxed smile across your face. You think you could spend the rest of your life here, content and happy. Safe. 

But you’ve never been particularly lucky. 

“The fuck is a board game club?”

“It’s fun, I promise!” Mina looks you up and down as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You know how you look, sprawled on your soft comforter in sweats and a grease-stained t-shirt. Your laptop sits beside you, a trashy drama playing in the background, while your hands are occupied with your phone and a large bowl of popcorn. 

“But I’m having fun now.” You gesture to your well-planned setup, grimacing when Mina turns the lights on. “Dude. Warning, please.” She sighs, stepping into the room with a stern look on her face. You can already feel your stubborn resolve slipping. 

Mina shuts your laptop and moves it aside, plopping onto the bed next to you. She takes your non-butter-coated hand in hers. 

“Y/N, I love you. But it’s Friday night. We haven’t gone out in a month. A month!” You glare, offended she’d bring up the subject. 

“Because you know what happened last time!” Mina opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. This discussion always goes the same direction anyway. 

“This won’t be like last time,” she reassures, taking the popcorn bowl from you, much to your dismay. “I promise. You like games! It’ll be fun and tonight we’re betting, so if you win you might even have some cash to take home.” 

“But I’m so happy here.” You cuddle your pillow childishly, puffing out your bottom lip. Mina is not amused. She sighs, massaging her temples. 

“I didn’t want to do this,” she begins. “But you owe me, remember?” You cock your head, no memory coming to mind. She sighs in exasperation. “You dragged me to that stupid dance class last semester! By the end I thought I was gonna puke!” You scoff. 

“Oh, puh-lease, you were practically drooling over the instructor. He was so hot I forgot about the pain. Too bad he has a girlfriend now. I stalked him on Instagram.” Mina laughs, a light tinkling sound compared to your usual guffawing, abrasive and obnoxious. 

“So… you’ll come?” You take a moment to think, despite already knowing your answer. You were too easy to guilt-trip, you knew. Too trusting, too. But Mina was right, you did owe her. You sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll come.” Mina’s entire face lights up as she cheers and hurries to her feet. Your joints creak as you heave your limbs off of the bed while Mina begins babbling instructions your way. 

You were rather talented at board games. And silly banter. You might even have a chance at walking away with the money. This will be fun, you assure yourself. 

“...So, yeah. Just bring ten bucks. And maybe change first.” Her eyes take one last glance at your outfit in light disgust. “Be ready in half an hour?”

“Mhmm,” you groan, stumbling to your closet. You sniff one of your old sweaters and when no ungodly stench meets you, you shrug it on in place of your tee. Mina thanks you before trotting out of the room, taking away your snack with her. 

This will be fun, this will be fun.

Or, at least it better be. You make a mental note that, if this goes south, you aren’t leaving this apartment for the next six months. 

After sprucing up your appearance and coating yourself with cheap perfume, you approach the supposed ‘board game club meeting’ (how the hell did that get approved, anyway?) with a newfound sense of confidence. Your smile is beaming, your shoulders are back and unbothered, your skin glowing. Wait, doesn’t that phrase mean you’re pregnant? You can’t remember. Not that pregnancy is even a remote possibility for you anyway. What with you never leaving the apartment and all.

You trail after Mina as she weaves through the library halls, before slowing in front of a corner study room. You’re astounded she made it here so easily, you had no idea this was even here. To your knowledge, this wing of the library was reserved for storage and staff. 

 Just as you’re about to follow her through the door, she spins to face you. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking and you know if you really don’t want to go-” 

“Oh my god, we’re here already! Let’s just go in!” You smile at her teasingly while she blushes. Despite how it might look to outsiders, you and Mina care about each other deeply. You appreciate how considerate she is of you.

 “Alrighty then!” She turns back around and throws open the door, drawing the greetings of everyone else in the room. Your eyes land on Mark, Mina’s boyfriend, who’s already shot to his feet and pulled Mina in for a kiss. 

You barely have time to scan the rest of the crowd before Mark’s wrapped you up in a hug, ruffling your hair. He’d always been friendly, definitely a little much for you. But his affectionate ways are perfect for Mina. 

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” He finally parts from you, allowing you room to breathe. You shrug sheepishly. 

“Well, here I am.” Your hands fidget nervously at the belt loops of your jeans. “So expect to lose.” Mark laughs, wrapping an arm around Mina. You suppress the part of you that’s immensely jealous of their easy-going relationship. You’ve never been able to achieve quite the same thing. Your relationships rarely lasted longer than a few months, at best. 

“I believe it. You always outplay me in Monopoly.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “But Yoongi might give you a run for your money.”

Your blood runs cold. Chills travel across your skin. A fire fueled by anger and embarrassment that had almost sputtered out over the past month is suddenly reignited, a blazing furnace beneath your face and chest. 

“What?” Mina’s smile becomes strained while you stand there, face void of emotion despite the thunderstorm raging inside. Her voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!” Mark, oblivious to the brewing conflict, smiles happily.

“Yeah, but his work thing got canceled, so I told him there was still plenty of room.” Pride beams off of his face. At any other time, Mina would congratulate him for his efforts to be inclusive and encouraging to their mutual friend. But right now, she was starting to be as panicked as you were pissed. 

Your mind is flooded with memories of fun conversation, casual flirting, and, ultimately, anxious nights spent staring at your phone screen, waiting for a very specific notification to appear. But it never did. You’re starting to see red. 

“God, Mark, I told you about this!” Mina turns to you, eyes frantic. “You know, if you just want to go back home, that’s okay. I’ll go with you, we can watch dramas and eat pizza and-”

“It’s fine,” you spit through clenched teeth. You force your fists to relax, allow a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes to settle across your lips. 

“A- Are you sure?” Mina touches your arm with concern, forcing you to tear your gaze away from a certain someone across the room. You shrug nonchalantly, forcing your smile to go wider. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Y/N, you seriously don’t-”

“It’s fine, Mina.” She immediately clamps her mouth shut, knowing your will is set in stone by the harsh tone of your voice. She nods vigorously and steps back into the arms of a very confused Mark. 

“Okay, okay.” She puts up her hands defensively before smiling and facing the rest of the group. “Who’s ready to get started?” She’s met with cheers and smiles as Mark settles into a seat beside her and starts dealing cards, leaving one empty chair, across from Yoongi. 

You slide into it, meeting his intense gaze as he looks up from his phone. Not that it surprises you, but he appears exactly the same. He’s fucking gorgeous. His features are soft, yet when he meets your eyes with that piercing gaze and unreadable expression, he becomes sharp and intimidating. His greyish-brown locks just barely sit above his dark, umber eyes, effortlessly tousled. Even his taste is good, his outfit composed of a leather jacket and vintage band t-shirt, topped with a single hoop earring. 

God, he is so perfect. Was so perfect, until he’d ignited your unending anger. 

“Hey,” you mutter, words coming off much more bitter than intended. Whatever. It’s how you feel, anyways. 

“Hey,” he replies. “Been a while.” His eyes never leave yours. 

“Sure has.” Your nostrils flare against your will. “You doing alright? Gone on any more blind dates?” Yoongi’s lips twist into a scowl. 

“Can’t say I have. You were the one and only.” The staredown between you two could start wars. The negative energy you’re generating sends a chill down an unsuspecting Mark’s spine. 

Your brooding is interrupted when a shiny, white sticker is passed in front of you. 

“It’s a name tag!” Mina explains, looking between you two anxiously. “You can decorate it. It’s fun.” You internally roll your eyes at Mina’s not-so-sly attempt to break up your silent argument. 

You grab a stray pen to scribble your name, but just as the ink begins to meet the sticker, fingers tighten around your wrist. With his free hand, Yoongi takes the sticker from you, bringing it to his side of the table. 

“Let me do it. Your handwriting is shit.” You grimace. He isn’t wrong. You work to get your mind moving, you’re already behind in the insult-slinging. After a brief moment, Yoongi releases your wrist and snatches the pen from your fingertips, dipping his head to start writing. 

“So are your dialing abilities.” Yoongi pauses, his eyes lifting, a poorly built facade of confusion masking what you’re sure is smug pride. The little shit. 

“What?” he asks curiously, pen lowering. 

“You heard me.” You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, as if daring him to challenge you. This asshole had the nerve to pretend he enjoyed your company despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, treat you to a nice date, not call you ever again, NOT EVER CALL YOU AGAIN, and then pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about? God, you’d really dodged a bullet there. Or, you would have. If Yoongi had picked up the damn phone and taken a shot in the first place. 

After a few seconds, a smirk plays on his lips and he shakes his head, returning to the sticker. 

“I see you and Yoongi are acquainted!” Mark comments, throwing an arm over your shoulder while blissfully unaware of the situation. Oh, to be pretty and ignorant. “He’s a monster at Risk, let me tell you. He could probably take over the world if he really wanted to. Most of the time, he’s the lucky guy walking away with the payout.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes still focused on the project before him. 

“Or you guys just suck.” Mark laughs, the boisterous sound rattling from his chest. 

“Either way, he’s the guy to beat.” You nod in understanding as a plan hatches in your mind. You rub your hands together, not unlike a cartoon villain. Your fixed smile becomes slightly crazed and Cheshire cat-like. 

Interesting. Very interesting. So, if you were to, perhaps, theoretically, make some private bets and win this game night, Yoongi would be out a shit ton of money? Now that sounded like fun, Mina be damned. Screw closure and moving on, revenge is much more gratifying. 

When Yoongi finishes your nametag, you slap it on your sweater without so much as a glance, oblivious to the way his face falls. 

If it took every fiber of your being, you were going to beat Yoongi’s ass, steal his money, and never ever see him again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Fuck!

How was it possible for somebody to be good at Candyland?! The game’s pure goddamn luck. But here Yoongi was, having claimed victory for three out of the six games played so far (you claiming the other three) and being well on his way to winning the seventh and final game: Uno. 

You, Yoongi, and Mina are down to three cards each, while Mark and the other participants are too caught up in rambunctious conversation to care that they’re losing terribly. 

Mistakes have been made. You had egged Yoongi on into raising the bets between you two from ten to fifty dollars. And now you were fearing you’d lose. But your will was still strong, refusing to give up so easily. And where there was a will, there were Draw Four cards. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Yoongi groans, reaching to draw from the pile. But at the last second, his fingers flicker back to his hand, slapping his own Draw Four card onto the table. You sigh, banging your head against the table without an ounce of embarrassment or true anger. That time had long passed. Now you were just exasperated. 

Mina cries out in protest, but having nothing to counter with, she begrudgingly draws eight, eliminating her from the close race between you and Yoongi, having two cards each. Yoongi smiles apologetically, making you laugh quietly to yourself. 

When he wasn’t being an ass, Yoongi still made pleasant company. He was nice and sarcastic and introspective, never failing to add something new to the conversation. Despite your initial resolve, you’d found yourself opening up to him once again, obnoxiously cracking your own jokes and telling wild stories from your past experiences. Whenever Yoongi smiled or laughed at you, your heart soared. If only he had called you back, things could be different. 

But they weren’t. This is a war now. A war you intend to win. 

“What are you doing?” The question startles you from the goofy selfie you’re taking as you wait for the play to make its way around the table. You set down your phone, ignoring the way that, in the picture, your eyes are straight ahead, meeting Yoongi’s, rather than directed at the camera.

“Texting my nephew.” Yoongi cocks his head, brows furrowing. “He’s five and has a tablet for some godforsaken reason. We just send each other pictures of ourselves making stupid faces back and forth. It’s silly.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly sheepish, heat rising to your face. It’s probably the bad air conditioning in this place. Yoongi’s confused expression melts into a soft smile, making the furnace beneath your cheeks blaze hotter. 

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“What?” He shrugs, taking a sip at his soda. Your eyes narrow. What kind of game is he playing? Does he think flirting with you will distract you from the mission at hand? Because if so, he’s an absolute idiot. 

“You’re an idiot!” you’re yelling just a few minutes later. Yoongi’s practically cackling from across the table, clutching his middle with one hand, the other holding just one card. You still had two, but no matter. It’s pretty unlikely he’ll be able to play his hand anyway. “The cookie is the backbone of the entire Oreo! Without it, the whole experience is ruined! Don’t disregard it so easily.” Yoongi only snickers more, his gums peeking out from behind his massive smile. He’s enjoying the way you get riled up so easily, how quickly he can get under your skin with the most meaningless of words. 

“It doesn’t even taste good, Y/N. The least they could do is make it taste like sugar, since that’s practically all an Oreo is.” You roll your eyes. 

“That ruins the whole balance. The only thing you could possibly add to an Oreo to make it better is peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” Yoongi leans forward in interest and slight disgust. You nod assuredly, finding yourself leaning forward as well.

“Trust me, it’ll change your life.” Yoongi looks at you earnestly. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s the life-changer.” Your eyebrows pop upward, jaw momentarily dipping open before you snap it shut. No. No. You’re not falling for this again. You scoff and fall back into the incredibly uncomfortable chair, which only makes Yoongi smile proudly. 

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Mark nudges you and you barely acknowledge him, slapping your blue four onto the pile easily. 

Yoongi looks at you oddly, lolling his head to the side. 

“What?” you snap, giving him your best glare.

“You’re done with your turn?” he asks, expression turning slightly concerned. God, he was such a fucking tease. 

“Yes I’m done, you dipshit. Play your turn.” You glance at your phone screen, seeing several notifications from your nephew and a scolding text from your sister for encouraging his behavior. 

Yoongi sighs, drawing his card when he can’t play. When you glance up, there’s a smirk on his face once again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi’s smirk deepens. 

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’” You stare at Yoongi. He starts to snicker again. 

“Fuck!” you shout, ignoring Mina’s many comments about ‘language!’ and ‘non-competitive dialogue!’ Yoongi laughs in your face, not even bothering to cover his mouth and try to spare you. You’re about to go ballistic, your fists clenched as Yoongi does the favor of drawing four for you, sliding them in front of you. God, you hate him. 

In the end, neither of you wins. Some freshman with glasses you didn’t know took the victory, teasing his apparent girlfriend for losing. Who even let freshmen in here, anyway? The participants decide that the winnings will be divided between you and Yoongi, since you both won three games, and the mini-bet between the two of you becomes null, with neither of you able to fully stake your claim.

But you’re the one who’s really been defeated. You couldn’t even succeed in getting a second date with this guy, what made you think you could beat him in board games?

You give Yoongi a small, meek nod before standing to go. Mina left with Mark already after double and triple-checking that you were okay to walk home alone. You make for the door, open the handle as unexpected tears threaten to prick at your eyes. 

You’re so pathetic. You’d let a fucking blind date get you so upset you’d barely left your apartment in the past month except to go to class. Could you really be faulted? You hadn’t had so much fun with someone in your entire life. You could feel the connection, the spark, between the two of you. You were certain this was the one that would last. So you took the leap, gave him your number, proposed a second date. But he never called you. Not once. 

You’re unlikable. Unlovable. You don’t deserve to win game night, let alone to win at life or relationships or-

“Y/N, wait up.” Yoongi’s found his way next to you as you trudge out of the library, staring straight ahead. 

Great.

“What is it, Yoongi?” You shoot him a dark look, only to find his ears tinged pink and his hand awkwardly scratching his scalp. 

“Well, uh, I was thinking.” The sentence ends, thought hanging unfinished in the air. 

“You were… thinking?” Yoongi jolts, like he’d forgotten you were here. His eyes never meet yours, contrary to his crude confidence from before. 

“Yeah! And, um-” He sighs, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I think we should use the money we won and go on a second date.”

What.

“What?” You’re openly gaping at him now. “Why?!”

“Because I really enjoyed our first date and I’d like another one.” You’re running out of air, sputtering on your breath. 

“But- But you didn’t even call me! I asked you out and now you suddenly change your mind?” After an excruciating moment, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, panicked rather than unreadable. The image is unsettling and unfamiliar. You’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“Because you gave me a fake number!” You gawk at him in confusion. “Or that’s what I thought, until you were talking earlier and I put it all together.” He grins, seemingly finding his confidence again. “Your shitty handwriting made me misread your number. I almost thought it was on purpose until now, that you just wanted to get rid of me. But it was all a misunderstanding.”

The weight of his words settles on your shoulders, making your head spin. All a misunderstanding? All those stupid tears and endless nights over… a misunderstanding? You could laugh. You do, actually. The sound makes Yoongi jump as the two of you step outside, the night oddly warm despite the time nearly reaching midnight. A stupid, dopey grin spreads across your face. 

Yoongi doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re stupid or unlikable. You’d done everything right, well, almost everything right. It’s humorous, really. 

“So, uh… What do ya say? Tomorrow? Seven?” You smirk. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m free.” Yoongi’s grinning too, enjoying the casual banter significantly more than the way his face grew flushed and he couldn’t seem to spit out what he wanted to say. 

“Well, then cancel your plans.” His eyes flash wildly and you giggle childishly, taking delight in his antics. You nod, your cheeks beginning to ache. 

“Tomorrow at seven.” Yoongi grins as you prepare to go your separate ways. 

“Tomorrow at seven.” You spin and begin walking the other way, but not before Yoongi can call after you again. 

“What?” You laugh, yelling at him from down the sidewalk, the streetlamps barely illuminating his figure. 

“Check your nametag! And text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe!” You laugh again. 

“I don’t even have your number, dipshit!” Yoongi sighs loudly, the sound echoing down the empty street. 

“Just check the fucking nametag!” 

“Fine, fine!” You giggle as you peel the sticker off your shirt. Your giggle intensifies when you see its contents. 

Along with your name, Yoongi decided to draw a small picture that you could only assume was you, composed of an angry face, frazzled hair, and devil horns. And in the bottom right corner is a string of digits. You’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at the piece of paper. You tell yourself to find a safe place to keep it when you get home. 

“Goodnight, Y/N!” he shouts, figure fading farther in the distance. 

“Goodnight!” 

You practically skip home, your body singing with adrenaline and joy. 

You muse that your world might never be in balance or harmony, not in your lifetime, anyway. 

But with you beside Yoongi, you thought it’d be pretty damn close. 

[kotachii]

5 Stages of Love - Denial

  Part 1 | Next

Masterlist

Atsumu Miya x Reader

Summary:   Atsumu Miya and (Name) (Lastname) seems to never get along. Their "friendship" is filled with petty arguments, bickering and over competitiveness. However, one day after volleyball practice, Atsumu finds a curious pink envelope in his bag from (Name). There is no way this is a love letter, right?

      Blunt with his words, quick-witted, self-absorbed and always has that smug little smirk on his face, Atsumu Miya is the star-player of Inarizaki's volleyball team. Needless to say, he is quite popular in the school, he even has his own squad of fangirls! However, there seemed to be one girl that he could never get along with - (Name) (Lastname).

      (Name) was Suna's cousin. Since (Name) wasn't interested in any clubs, she ended up staying around at practice a lot for Suna and to help out occasionally. After a while, she began to be recognized as the unofficial manager of Inarizaki's Boy's Volleyball Club. Nonetheless, for a manager she really wasn't quite good at managing the team because not a single day can go by without her and Atsumu going at each other. In fact, her petty rivalry with Atsumu probably caused more chaos if anything.

       "You have a 5 minutes break!", (Name) shouts at the boys on the court. They collectively start walking towards the bench to grab their waterbottles while some started stretching from the intense practice they just had.

       "She is like a second Osamu," Atsumu sighs as snatches his waterbottle from the bench to drink it.

       Aran pats his back, "What happened now?"

       "She was saying that my serve routine is over-the-top and purposely started laughing as I was saving during practice," Atsumu says as he rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed.

       The team laughs, remembering what happened earlier that day during practice. Atsumu grimaces again, "And of course when the ball goes into the net, she starts laughing and saying that I'm too sensitive! Can't she have some respect for my serves?", he says rather loudly while clenching his waterbottle tightly and (Name) overheard from across the gym.

       "Still salty aren't you, 'Tsumu-chan?" (Name) taunts.

       "Shut up!", Atsumu snaps back, earning another round of laughter from the team.

       "Here they go again," Suna sighs.

       "She's not wrong," Osamu says deadpan. Others nod in agreement.

       "You shut up too! You guys are supposed to be on my side!", Atsumu argues.

       "You're saying this as if you never messed with her," Suna interjected.

       "(Name) told me about that you ran away with the bread she brought from the cafeteria yesterday," Kita says coldly.

       "T-That's different!"

       "Well, have you ever thought about it this way, maybe she just wants to mess with you?", Aran started.

       "Of course she is! Or else what is she doing?"

       "I meant like mess with you to get your attention," Aran trailed off.

       "And now 'Samu fights me daily because he wants my love too," Atsumu exclaimed sarcastically.

       "Eat shit 'Tsumu," Osamu mumbles.

       From afar, the coach yells at the boys that practice is resuming while (Name) gets the court ready for the upcoming scrimmage, "Time for scrimmage!", she calls over.

       The boys sets down their waterbottle again and as they walk back to the court, Atsumu turns around  and says, "This isn't some cliched highschool romcom, there's no way she likes me."

.....or he thought.

------

       Atsumu is used to receiving love letters. As the guy with his own fanclub, it's not uncommon but what took him by surprised was when he found a pink envelope from you in his backpack. There weren't a lot of people left in the gym, only Osamu who was getting ready too, (Name) that was talking with Suna that was putting the last volleyball away.

       "Another letter?", Aran says looking over Atsumu's shoulders.

       "Uhh yeah, not sure who it's from" Atsumu said and turns the letter to the back side only to find, written neatly, it says "From (Name) (Lastname)."

       Both Aran and Atsumu's jaw dropped.

       Aran was the first to break the silence with a smirk, "See, what did I tell ya!"

       Atsumu stumbles on his words and his cheeks visibly flushed, "No way, can't be, this must be a prank!"

       "Oh come on, it even has a heart sticker to seal the envelope!", Aran exclaimed, "Open it!"

       Atsumu quickly looks around and spots you in the distance, almost ready to leave with Suna, "N-No!" he shouts back to Aran, "Not now, I'll...I'll do it at home!"

       "Haha, you're a mess 'Tsumu", Aran laughs, "Well I have to get going, see you tomorrow.." he pauses then says lowly, "And have fun with the letter!"

       A million thoughts crosses Atsumu's head and he can't help but suddenly wonder if Aran really was saying the truth. Maybe (Name) did like him. But there's no way he can like her back, right? The two of you are rivals! If anything, he should rub it in your face and act like the asshole he is.

       "Hurry up or I'm living without ya!" Osamu calls to Atsumu. Atsumu fumbles and quickly shoves the letter back into his backpack and runs over to Osamu.

       There is no way this is real, there is no way this is real, Atsumu says to himself the whole walk home. He gets letters all of the time, but why did this letter bother him so much? He was so consumed in his thoughts.

       "You look like you're about to kill someone," Osamu pokes at Atsumu.

       "Huh? Do I?", Atsumu exclaims surprised.

       Osamu gives him a funny look, "So...I don't even know why I'm asking but, what's wrong?"

       Atsumu sighs, "Do you think (Name) likes me?"

       "Why you asking this? Because of what Aran said during break?"

       "I suppose so....just tell me, what do you think?"

       "Maybe, but I don't think (Name) would fall for someone as ugly as you."

       "We have the same face!" Atsumu shouts back.

       "You have the personality of sewage water!"

       "Are you talking to yourself?"

       The twins argue for a bit more before finally, Osamu says, "You should know this the best, what do you think?"

       "There's no way, this sounds too much like some cliched romance movie, hate turns into love, real life ain't like that."

       "I don't think she hates you. You don't seem to hate her either," Osamu interjects.

       "No, no, you're wrong. We're enemies. Enemies with a capital E! She's always insulting me, there's no way this is real."        "Then why are you so concerned about this? You're acting strange 'Tsumu," Osamu states matter-of-factly.

       "Am not!"

       "Are too!"

       The two of them continue to bicker on the whole way home, but even then, Atsumu couldn't keep his mind off this dumb letter and what could possibly be inside. On one hand he doesn't know why it makes him a bit happier than usual but on the other, his mind is just screaming at him that there is no way this pink envelope with a heart sticker on it is a love confession.

[mithranqueersmusings]

The Night Before XV

Chapter: 15/15

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Smut, Slow Burn

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo was quickly getting accustomed to the routine of waking up beside George, it was definitely a pleasant sight to open his eyes to first thing in the morning. Although it was rather strange being in someone else's bed, he couldn't deny that George's flat had a real warmth and cosiness to it. He thought back on the previous night fondly, scolding himself for ever being so concerned that it would've been anything less than perfect. Unfortunately it wasn't long before George was waking up too, meaning it was only a matter of time before they would have to break out of this peaceful serenity, the thought of returning to his flat alone again was already upsetting Ringo.

"Morning." George grumbled, evidently feeling very groggy.

"Morning." Ringo repeated, an instinctive smile forming on his lips.

George let out a groan as he stretched his body out, it didn't take Ringo long to learn that every morning was a struggle for George to get out of bed at a decent time. As George twisted and turned, Ringo noticed the marks on his wrists that had been left from the restraints, without much thought he caught one of George's arms and rubbed his thumb against the aggravated skin.

"It doesn't hurt does it?" Ringo asked, concerned.

George didn't realise what he was referencing at first, once he caught on he let out a casual laugh "Not at all. Even if it did, it'd be worth it."

Ringo held onto George for longer than necessary, eventually giving into his instincts completely and pulling him closer for a gentle kiss. The longer Ringo could drag out their time in bed together, the better. George was more than happy to oblige, lifting his leg to overlap with Ringo's hip so that they were pressed together even closer. Ringo slipped his hand under George's shirt, just to feel the warmth of his skin against his fingertips. George pulled away first, though didn't move too far as their noses were almost touching.

"I didn't take it too far did I? I was worried I'd be kinda throwing you in at the deep end." George rested his hand against his face.

"Not at all." Ringo chuckled softly "Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting it at all, so I was definitely shocked. But I was surprised how into the whole thing I was."

George hummed satisfied "You surprised me too. At least I know I can maybe turn it up a notch or two next time."

"There's more?" Ringo scoffed "Jesus, George... I'm really starting to think someone's paying you to torture me."

George paused, a knowing look on his face "I'm not gonna make the obvious joke here, as much as I want to."

"You don't have any plans today, do you?" Ringo asked cautiously, unable to look George in the eye so instead focused on his collarbones, trailing his finger along them.

"None at all, why?" George responded in kind.

"Well, not to run the risk of overstaying my welcome, it'd be nice to just chill together." Ringo spoke quietly "If you want to, of course."

"Of course I want to." George smiled, washing away any fear Ringo had "No sex, though... I need at least a day to recover from all that."

"You and me both." Ringo chuckled.

George reluctantly rolled out of bed, making his way over to the wardrobe to find something decent to wear. Ringo enjoyed the view, George peeling off his shirt so that he was stood there only in his boxers. Colours and patterns popped out from inside the wardrobe, Ringo couldn't help feeling rather bland in comparison as he watched George pull out a variety of options, each item of clothing more impressive than the last. Looking around George's room, it was clear that his unique perspective extended far beyond merely what he wore: the furniture was covered in imagery, whether it was from a multitude of stickers, crude drawings or more artful painting. Everything just screamed George, no corner of the room seemed to have been neglected. Ringo supposed he could get used to being in an environment like this.

"Planning on getting out of bed today?" George asked with an eyebrow raised, having thrown on some patterned trousers.

"If you give me a reason to, sure." Ringo responded playfully.

"Well I'm not about to serve you breakfast in bed, I'm not your maid." George took a few steps closer to the bed, hands on his slim hips.

"Shame, you'd make such a pretty one." Ringo pouted.

Despite his jokes, Ringo did manage to pull himself out of the comfort and warmth. He fished for his clothes in the living room, finding them dotted around the floor, before returning to dress himself. George already looked ready for the day, his hair brushed out and a black crop top thrown on to cover his chest but leave his stomach exposed.

"Have you always dressed like that?" Ringo asked, slipping back into his trousers.

"Like what?" George knitted his eyebrows together quizzically, clearly wanting to hear Ringo's description of his dress sense.

"Just very- Expressive." Ringo treaded carefully, George laughed at his caution.

"Not always." George finally answered "I just think fashion should be fun, you know? Everyone's so serious about everything..."

"Couldn't agree more." Ringo smiled.

George led the way into the kitchen, which was filled with even more houseplants than the living room. There were a few music posters taped to the wall: Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Roy Orbison to name a few, it reminded Ringo of his teenage bedroom.

"Your place is incredible." Ringo said, a little taken aback, as he slid to sit at the small table.

"Thanks." George replied with his head in the fridge "I want to move soon, though."

"Really? I can't image why." Ringo continued noticing small details in the room: the novelty salt and pepper shakers, the aged recipe books piled on the counter.

George began starting work on breakfast "Well, I do love it here but I really want a place with a garden. I'm starting to run out of space for these guys." He gestured broadly to the plants.

"Yeah... I've never met anyone with so many before." Ringo chuckled.

"Safe to say I'm a little obsessed." George focused on the food, but the warmth never left his voice "I work at the garden centre, actually. If you were curious."

"Oh, that must be nice." Ringo admired George from where he was sat "I don't think I've ever been, actually."

"What?" George almost shouted "We have to go!"

Ringo laughed, a little caught off guard "Is it really that good? I thought it was just a bunch of old people."

"Well, that's not untrue." George began cracking eggs into a pan "It's not really that special, I just like it there. I get a discount too so if you wanna get any plants, which you should want to, I can sort it for you."

"Why do I feel like you're threatening me?" Ringo chuckled.

"Maybe I am, just a little." George snickered.

They continued talking and joking over their breakfast, luckily for Ringo no under-the-table action occurred this time. Not soon after they were relaxing on the sofa, flicking through the variety of terrible daytime television on offer. They settled on a show about home renovation, always commenting on whether the end result was even an improvement at all, as though they were both experts in the field.

After George got up to put the kettle on, he decided to invade Ringo's space on the sofa by cuddling up into his front. Ringo couldn't deny that there wasn't really enough space for this kind of intimacy, but he allowed it all the same, running his hand over to George's stomach to keep him in place.

The hours soon passed by, neither of them wanting to acknowledge how late it was becoming. Ringo wished he could've stayed here forever, but he knew that was taking things a little too far. As the daylight began to fade, he had to face the fact that he had work in the morning and couldn't really afford to spend another night with George. He decided he should at least have a shower, just to prolong the amount of time he could spend here. When he re-emerged, George was spread out on the bed with a book in his hand.

"So... I should probably get going." Ringo announced, drying off his hair roughly with a towel.

George set his book down and frowned "Suppose you can't stay here forever."

"No, unfortunately not." Ringo sighed, both of them looking at one another but saying nothing further.

The moment dragged on for a little while longer, neither saying anything but it was fairly clear what they were both thinking.

"Before I go, though, I wanted to ask you..." Ringo began, doubting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"What?" George asked expectantly, sitting upright on the bed.

"I don't want to rush into anything, but- I just wondered what you thought about maybe, only if you want to, maybe making things a little more... exclusive?" Ringo cursed his ineloquence.

George laughed and for a second Ringo worried he'd misread everything entirely, until George spoke "Ringo, if you're gonna ask me out you're gonna have to do it properly."

Ringo paused then tried once more "George, do you wanna be my-"

"Yes." George cut him off with a grin.

"Great." Ringo exhaled with a nervous laugh.

George slid off the bed, approaching Ringo with a familiar look in his eyes "You're not about to leave your boyfriend without a kiss goodbye, are you?"

"Of course not." Ringo whispered as George moved in closer, locking their lips together.

Ringo had to use every ounce of restraint in his body to pull away from George, or else they'd no doubt be repeating the scenes of last night before long. It nearly broke his heart to leave George like this, knowing that both of them would do just about anything to spend more time together, but he could leave satisfied with the knowledge that this was only the beginning of what was hopefully a long relationship.

Things had already been fairly eventful, and it hadn't even been a month that the two of them had known each other. Whatever else was in store, Ringo unabashedly looked forward to it, for the knowledge that George was now his own, made him feel like everything was going to be perfect from here on out.

[hellsfirekeepsyouwarm]

Can I get an imagine where an y/n meets EZ at her bakery that she just opened across from Felipe's butcher shop and he asks her out on a date? You can go wherever you want with it honestly, I love your writing!

“Shelves”

Giiirl, this one just made my mind flyyyyyyy. I was so excited to write this. I was thinking a part 2 for this..Let me know guys if you are liking the idea :D 

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 1877

I parked my bike in front of Pop’s shop, craving my first coffee of the day. The sun wasn’t that hot, and I enjoyed the cool breeze of the morning, before standing up. That’s when I saw an unfamiliar figure on the other side of the street, standing in front of an empty shop. She carefully scratched the sticker on the window that said “For Sale”. She was eager to get it off, cleaning supplies all around her.

I heard the door open behind me, and saw Pop waving at me from the doorframe.

“Coffee?” He asked simply, and I nodded smiling. Just what I need. I sat at the table in front of the butcher shop, my eyes always trailing back to her.

“She’s here every day. She comes when I open the shop, and she’s still here when I close.” Dad says as he hands me a mug with steaming coffee in it. How could I miss her? I’m here almost every morning, but never noticed her.

“Since when?” “A couple of days, a week.” He answers, feeling his eyes on me. I dart away my eyes, focusing on my coffee. There absolutely nothing interesting in it, and my attention always draw back to the girl on the other side.

“I saw her bringing a lot of books in there. I think wants to open a coffee shop or somethin’.” Pop is smiling under his nose when I look at him, nodding towards the girl. Should I go over there? For what? Introduce myself? That’s bullshit.

On cue, Angel roars down the street, stopping next to my bike, a cig hanging out of his mouth.

“Drink up that shit Prospect, we gotta go.” He says, not standing up from his seat.

 Every morning. She’s there, and I’m on the opposite side of the street. This time she’s on the wrong side of the street, walking straight to my direction, smiling shyly at us.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Pop says, standing up to welcome her. “Steak was good?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Reyes. It was delicious. And this is for you. I thought you might want to read it yourself.” She says, handing over a book to Pop, who shakes his head, not wanting to accept it.

“I can’t, really.”

“Oh no, I read it a thousand times. I know the words from memory by now. Please.” She pleads, still holding out the book to him, and Pop finally takes it.

“Thank you.” He admires the book cover, then looks at me. “Oh, Y/N, this is my other son, Ezekiel.”

I jump up from my seat, her intense eyes roaming over at me, looking straight into my eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you” I say, shaking her hand. “The pleasure is mine” The words sweetly rolls on her tongue, eyes never leaving mine, until Angel pops his head out of the shop.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up Hermosa?” He already met her?

“Work, work and work.” She smiles, her voice changes to another tone when she speaks to Angel.

“How’s the shop?” I want to be a part of this conversation. I feel like I missed the first half of a movie, and now I can’t catch up.

“It’s coming together. I just have to put the shelves together, and hopefully I will be ready to open next week.” Shelves?

“I can help with that, if you want to.” Angel looks at me with a wide smile, knowing very well what I am doing.

“I would like that, thank you. Well I gotta go. See you around!” She waves, heading towards her shop.

“Brother, your eyes just turned into hearts in a second.” Angel laugh behind my back, a little bit too loud to my liking.

“Oh shut up” I groan. “You met her before?”

“Hell yes I did. She came over days ago to introduce herself with a bunch of bakery goods she made. Those things were delicious, I swear. But I am sure you are looking for other delicious receipts.” He smirks like a schoolboy, who has the best time looking at my annoyed face.

  Nothing wrong with a biker guy coming over to my empty shop in the middle of the night, right? Nothing could go wrong. The sad part is everything is wrong in that sentence, but still, I can’t wait to hear his bike roaring outside.

His family is seems nice. A little weird, but loving. Angel talks a lot, brags about shit I don’t even understand, and Felipe doesn’t really like to talk, and that’s when EZ comes in the picture. He’s like the middle. Mysterious and an open book at the same time.

Just about time, I hear the engine outside, stopping in front of my door, and soon after a light but clear knock on the door.

I rush over to unlock it, anxious about seeing him for the first time in private. Gosh, I am like a schoolgirl.  His deep eyes appear behind the wooden door, a hint of smile on the corner of his mouth.

“Hey” He says simply, almost like a whisper.

“Hey, come in” I open the door further, and immediately close it behind him, and lock it.

He looks at me a little weird. Was I too fast to lock the door and trap him in a small and unfamiliar place? Maybe.

“Thanks for coming really. Angel said you have a lot of things to take care of.”

“Well, if you mean serving beers, and polishing bike’s all day, yeah I was busy.” His wide smile reaches his ears, gracing me with most beautiful sight. I feel the same movements on my face, without realizing what I am doing.

“Sooo, there is the shelves I was talking about. They are pretty massive, and big so I couldn’t do it by myself.”

“Why don’t hire someone?”

“I wanted to, but you offered your help, and I don’t know…” I trail of… I have no explanation just the fact that I was mesmerized by him.

“I’m happy to help.” A little blush creeps onto my cheeks.

I see him struggle with being nice to me, and let me help him, but still getting done the work. I feel mostly in the way for him, as I talk through the awkwardness of the situation.

“So a motorcycle club, huh?”

“Yeah, guilty. But just prospecting. For now.”

“Since when?”

I see him growing a little bit gloomy over the question, or the memories it brings back, I regret asking.

“Almost a year.”

“And you like it? I mean, obviously you do, cause you do it…”

“Yeah, I do. Even if that means I have to be out on the sun all day taking care of the bikes. So you stumbled upon a club before?”

“Uhh, yeah, up north I had the pleasure to meet some clubs, but they weren’t as welcoming as you Mayans.”

“So, you met the others?” He groans from the weight of the furniture. My strength does not help too much to him.

“Uhum, the other day Angel came over with two of his friends. Gilly and Coco I believe. Gilly couldn’t stop flirting, and Coco couldn’t stop staring weirdly. They always do this?” Am I being bubbly?

“Mostly yes. But they are cool if you get to know them better.”

“I would like that.” I say, whispering to myself, but I am sure he heard it.

“I think it’s done.” Well that was too quick. Less than 10 minutes.

We back off, looking at the work he had done from the distance. It looks good. But really thought it would be way much harder, and longer mostly. Shit, what now?

“You want help with the books? Or you want to go home? It’s late.” He’s already looking through the boxes of books.  

“I would stay here anyways. The motel I’m staying is hella creepy. I like being here.”

“You live in a motel? Why?” Sometimes he opens up a book, but hardly focusing on them. His attention is on my answer. I sit opposite to him, selecting the books I want on the shelves.

“I spent most of my money on the shop, so I couldn’t get a proper apartment.”

“I think there’s an empty apartment in the building where Angel lives. I can ask around. “

“Ohh, it’s not necessary, I can’t afford it right now.”

“Come on, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“First, I have to open my shop. Everything else is after that. “

“When do you want to open?”

“Next Monday.”

“That’s…”

His phone rings out loud, scaring the shit out of me. He shoots me an apologetic look before answering it. I can hear Angel loud and playful voice on the other side, giving instructions to EZ.

“Okay, I’ll be there.” And with that he hangs up.

“I assume you have to go.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Ohh, no. I’m more than grateful that you helped me with that” I point at the wall, the empty shelves screaming for books.

“It’s nothing. Really.” He stands up, helping me up from my spot. My skin burns where he touches me, but the sensation leaves fast, as he lets go of my hand. I unlock the door for him, he steps out, but he looks back.

“Goodnight, Y/N”

“Goodnight, Ezekiel”

  The bid day. I opened a couple hours ago, and the place is filled with people. Far more than I expected. I can hardly keep up with the need of baked goods and coffee, but I try my best. I told EZ and Angel to drop by with the others, be my guest today. The plenty of tasks made didn’t let me to think about him, but as soon as he stepped in the shop I felt his presence. There he was, his brothers in his track.

“Hermosa!!!” Angel shouts, probably too loud, but I don’t care, i’m too happy to see them.

“Guys, you made it.”

“We wouldn’t miss this.” He point at the vanilla croissant on the display, licking the corner of his mouth. I giggle at him, handing over a plate to him. “Thank you!” He murmurs, his mouth already full of it.

“Wow, Y/N, you really went for it.” Gilly smiles, absorbing all the goods in front of him. “Is there gluten in these thingy?” Really?

He gets a slap on the back of his head from Coco. “Seriously , Brother?”

“What? Gluten makes me puffy” Coco shoots daggers at him with his eyes, and they start to argue about gluten.

“What can we help?” EZ’s voice reaches you before you could find him with your eyes.

“Uhh, actually, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Keep it up, it works” He looks around, seeing people laughing at eating.

“Thanks”

“Look I was thinking, after you locked up, maybe we could eat something, or grab a drink.” Oh gosh, I can feel the warmth filling my face. A smile creeps up on my face, and the words just fail me from the excitement.

“Yeah…yes! Uhm, I’m gonna lock up at six.”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

“Oh come on guys. Like fucking teenagers.” Angel groans, and I couldn’t hold back a laugh as EZ’s face flushes with red.

[poiwritesnstuff]

The One Where Richie Patronizes A Bar

Inspired by this post by @coldplaysongsonrepeat.

Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier was finding it harder and harder to frequent bars since he started being actually recognized. Comedy clubs were places of work, and it was generally considered bad practice to vomit where he ate. Clubs were an overpriced headache full of drugs he was too old to keep up with. Sports bars were usually full of the kinds of guys who would want to get chummy and laugh about stupid broads and masturbation jokes, which was masturbatory in and of itself. It was like... mastur-ception. Incept-urbation.

Maybe there was a reason he didn’t write his own material.

So it was with this reasoning that Richie ended up in a dive bar almost forty minutes from his house, nursing a glass of something alcoholic in the corner of a building that a clown car would call cramped. The lighting was dim with burnt out lightbulbs, the bar made of actual wood, and the stool just unbalanced enough for him to nearly fall off twice. In a word, perfection.

It was so dingy and forgotten that Richie hadn’t noticed the faded pride stickers and graffiti until the bartender struck up a conversation with the charming opener of “Should have figured a guy with a name like Trashmouth Tozier would be gay.”

Richie blinked up at her. “Yeah? What tipped you off, my incredible sense of style or the giant bear railing me as we speak?”

“Are you serious? Right in front of my salad?” She asked, her eyes wide with mock shock as she lit a cigarette. Richie laughed

“I think I might love you,” Richie said. “Forget dick, I’m all about you now, baby.”

“Too bad, since mine is bigger than yours,” she said. 

She offered him the cigarette. Richie didn’t normally smoke, but there was something comforting about the act of smoking with this stranger. They continued on like this, throwing nonsense back and forth until Richie was stumbling out of the bar and into an uber she had called for him at 2AM.

Richie woke up every day for a week and when his sexuality wasn’t plastered on the front page of TMZ, he went back. The same redhead was tending bar and smiled when he came in.

“The prodigal son returns! I thought you might have died last week.”

“That was just the warm up, baby. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

--

Four months later, Richie had been coming to this place at least once a week and nobody bothered him except to wrinkle their nose at his shirt. He couldn’t tell if he liked it or hated it, but he couldn’t stay away, so he continued sitting in his corner where nobody could bother him.

On one such night. when he was full of whiskey and contemplation and the clock struck 1, he looked up at his redheaded bartender. “Bess.”

“You know I hate that nickname,” she said lightly, collecting her tip from the last customer to depart.

“Besserly!” he insisted.

“Stop calling me th--” She turned around and saw him sitting with his cheek on the cool surface of the bar. “Richard, that’s disgusting, get your head off the bar.”

“It’s fine.”

Liz filled a glass with water and put it in front of him, and Richie lifted his head just enough to slurp water from the glass.

“Richie, I’m gonna close up early so I have to kick you out soon, okay?”

“No!” He jolted up, panicked. Liz paused in her movements to look at him. “Not just-- I have to say a thing.”

“Okay,” Liz said cautiously. She stopped wiping the bar and watched Richie carefully. “What is it?”

“Okay. I’m... It’s a thing. I just am saying the thing. To you. Because you’re my bartender. Isn’t it funny how people will just say so much shit to their bartenders? Like, I know it’s easy to get a bartender confused with a therapist, you give both of them money to give you shit that makes you feel better and maybe makes you cry a lot-- oh, hey, you’re smiling! I knew I was funny, deep down.”

“You were gonna tell me something, Richie,” Liz prompted, idly wiping down the counter around him. “You don’t have to deflect if you don’t want to say it.”

“No, I just need to do it, you know? I just need to... get it out. Admit it. And then the world will keep turning and I can move on with my life. So, Besserly. Good old Queen Bess. Queen Lizzy-Lizabeth. Lizzy.” He drew in a deep breath, took her hand, and looked her right in the eyes. “Liz, I... I am... Uh. I’m, uh... The-- The thing is that I have to, uh, say that I’m... I’m just really.... I’m...”

His heart clenched so hard that his eyes watered. He wondered if he might be dying. Could be preferable to whatever was about to happen.

“Liz, I’m...” He let go of her hand and dropped his head to the bar, his voice muffled by the bar. “A dick. I’m a dick. Just figured I’d say it. First step is admitting you’re a problem and all.”

Liz patted his head and continued to clean, and Richie’s stomach sunk as he thought that she may have understood him after all.

--

It took a record seven months for someone in the bar to finally approach him.

Richie had to do a double take, and then a triple take when the boy sat down. He had clear, light skin and giant brown eyes, his hair combed down into the dorkiest haircut he had ever seen. His heart hurt at the sight.

“You okay, Richie?” The boy asked, his cheeks round and flushed.

“Uh.” Richie cleared his throat and tried again. He couldn’t work past the whisper of a memory that was begging to be unlocked. “That is... um.”

“You’re Richie Tozier, right? The comedian?” The man tilted his head, and the brief vision Richie was having disappeared. Still, this man was young in a way that made Richie feel every second of his thirty-eight years. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it slid like water through the cracks in his armor and settled into the marrow of his bones. He was suddenly too tired and not drunk enough.

“Debatable, but yes.” Richie smiled halfheartedly. “Richie Tozier, here to entertain.”

“It was just a question, dude,” the young man said, brow furrowed. 

Richie laughed suddenly and finished off his drink, then smiled politely as Liz refilled it. “Sorry, that was weird. You just... You remind me of someone. This boy from my hometown...”

Richie trailed off, studying the man, ignoring the painful clench in his stomach as he returned the gaze with a little heat in his enormous eyes, large and expressive and the stuff of his particularly curious nightmares.

“Yeah?” The man prompted. “Where is he now?”

“Well, I don’t... Don’t really know. Honestly, I don’t remember much of my childhood. It’s mostly, like, blurred pictures and shit.” He laughed. “Well, that sounds fucking stupid. Never mind.”

“It’s not stupid, Richie,” the man said, emphatic.

“Yeah?”

“No, it’s, like, fascinating. I mean, maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember him.”

“Yeah, see, the thing about that is,” Richie said, sitting up straighter on his wobbly stool, “is that at least people who remember the shit they do, they get to know they don’t want it. The thing about forgetting is that you’ve lost a piece of the puzzle. You don’t get to decide you didn’t want it. Even if it’s super fucked up, you don’t get fucking trigger warnings or whatever. Just blankness. Like whiteout on your brain.”

“Yeah, well, knowing isn’t so much better. I broke up with my boyfriend three weeks ago and I wish I could pile up all his shit and set it on fire. I blocked him on everything and like, deleted all of his pictures on my stuff, but I can’t delete them up here.” The man tapped his temple. “Kind of wish I could. He was such an asshole.” A beat, and then-- “Maybe yours was, too.”

“Yeah, I wish. Having trauma would be great material for my stand-up, I wish I could remember it. Maybe my therapist will tell me after another ten thousand dollars.” He let out a rueful laugh, caught sight of the guy grinning at his joke, and laughed more genuinely.

“So you think this person was your friend?” The man asked. “Someone important?”

“Probably not if I can’t remember him,” Richie said with a shrug. “Must have just been some random dude I hung out with before I moved for college.”

The man gave Richie a searching look that Richie missed, and then put his hand over Richie’s. Richie ought to have reacted; he did not.

“Well, listen, maybe... if you want, we could finish our drinks and get out of here. I live close by.” He paused and lowered his voice to whisper into Richie’s ear. “I could be this guy for you, if you want.”

Richie should have been turned on by this twenty-something virile specimen with puppy-dog eyes and luscious lips breathing at his ear, but all he could feel was panic. He jerked back, though not fast enough to be unkind, and smiled as wide as he could.

“I mean, hey, who could turn down a proposition like that? Damn, you’re good at this, wow, but I kind of gotta get back home, can’t get back too late or else the missus is gonna have my ass for waking up the kids and it’ll really piss off my friend if he wakes up to me fuckin’ his mom so uh yeah sorry I’m just gonna”

He almost sprinted out of the bar, leaving his tab and an astonished, rejected man behind.

Richie leapt out of the uber the moment it got to his mansion and he sprinted inside to the bathroom. Richie conjured up the impossible image of this young man looking at him with want, his features changing just enough to push Richie over the edge with a forgotten name on his lips. 

In the aftermath, Richie panted in the dark, leaning on the counter for support as his legs threatened to give way. He finally lifted his head to look at himself and saw, for a moment, two glowing yellow eyes peering back at him.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Nerd 9

Previously on Nerd

In a way, Luna’s house was the most comfortable place outside of her own home that Lexa ever knew. One street over and two houses down, Lexa spent her first sleepover there. She spent every birthday and most of summer vacations there for a long time, her brother trailing along to play with Luna’s little brother. She knew where everything was, and the door was always open, so that she didn’t even bother knocking anymore.

When Aden got sick, Lexa spent more time at Luna’s than she did her own home. That stopped immediately when he was gone. She barely left her room, let alone her house, let alone her street.

But there was something comforting about it, as she knocked and twisted the door knob in the early evening. A late January slushy mix filled the sky and froze everything it came in contact with, and the warmth of the home greeted her, swallowing her up and welcoming her back yet again.

“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?” Luna’s mother greeted her from the kitchen as she kicked off her shoes and made her way toward her best friend’s bedroom.

“Swamped, but doing okay. How are you?”

She paused at the island in the kitchen and accepted a cookie that cooled on a sheet while the mother worked on whatever was going to be dinner.

“I’ll be better when I finish this project and this dinner. Don’t ever grow up. Real life will absolutely drain your energy,” she said as she took a sip of wine. “Here to work on SAT prep?”

“Um, yeah,” Lexa nodded. “Test is in April.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“I’ll be heading home, actually. My dad is trying his hand at some Korean dish he had and wants to recreate.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to have something just in case?” she grinned.

“Thanks, but I’ll chance it,” Lexa shrugged, adjusting her bag and making her way down the hall.

The house was entirely prim and proper, neatly organized like a spread in a lifestyle magazine. Rows of pictures covered the hall, sandwiched between white trim. There was always a certain warmth to the house, but it never felt like home to Lexa. She liked her own house more than anything, but she owed her friend the luxury of home field advantage.

At the end of the hall, a white door was covered in angry stickers and bands, warning any wary passersby to keep going. Music thumped behind the sturdy barricade.

“I’m doing homework,” Luna yelled as soon as Lexa knocked, though it didn’t deter her as she pushed the door open to find her best friend scrolling through footage on her large monitor.

“That looks like the stuff we shot in November.”

“Someone’s got to put it all together.”

Lexa walked into the room anyway, despite the less than warm reception. She tossed her backpack on the floor and took a seat on the edge of the bed, even though her best friend didn’t look over at her or acknowledge her presence.

“You didn’t email me about the changes I made to the script,” Lexa began, playing with a hole on the jeans over her knee. “I thought we wanted to finalize by March.”

“I didn’t think there was a rush. You take forever to respond.”

“Are you still mad? I missed a couple of deadlines.”

“Every deadline,” Luna reminded her.

Hands moved quickly, knowledgeable at the computer. Lexa just watched as her friend avoided looking at her. It was hard to disappoint the person who gave her such drive. Her partner, in the truest sense of the word.

“I’ve had a lot going on.”

“So have I, but I keep up with this. This is what I want to do.”

“Yeah, sure looks like you’re passionate about it,” Lexa rolled her eyes, earning a glare.

Piercing brown, almost black eyes bore into her own, slightly squinted from the slight. The muscles of the jaw flexed and nostrils flared. The leg that was propped up in the chair got pulled even tighter, her body defending itself from a perceived threat.

“I’ve been working on this for hours, and you want to come in and tell me I’m doing a lackluster job?” Luna scoffed, leaning back in her chair.

“I didn’t come over to fight. I came over to apologize and figure out the adjustments I wanted to make.”

“You’re bad at it.”

“I know you’ve been mad at me.”

“No shit.”

“And I take the blame, but you’re not innocent in this,” Lexa decided, her words shaking slightly with the confrontation.

“Okay, Lexa. Thanks.”

“I mean it. I am devoted to this. You know I love this, but you throw it in my face how I’m dragging you down apparently,” she concluded, her hands moving slightly, her shoulders shrugging.

Lexa couldn’t look at the girl at the desk anymore, so she fixated on the corner of the desk as she zoned out and said hard words.

“You’d have to show up to drag me down,” Luna laughed sardonically.

“My life is kind of upside down at the moment.”

“Yeah yeah, Aiden, I know. I give you slack for that.”

“Slack?” Lexa furrowed. “For my brother dying? For my family falling apart? Wow. That is awfully generous of you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Even then, you should understand that my family has different requirements of me than yours does of you.”

“I get to just do what I want, with no supervision, no drive?” Luna looked at the girl on her bed and shook her head in disbelief.

“I have to play a sport every season. I have to be in these clubs, and I just came out to my parents, which-- I don’t have to explain it to you.”

“You used to though.”

Deadlocked, they looked at each other, the music quieter but still louder than the rest of the house, blocking out much of their own thoughts. Lexa didn’t want to fight, but she also knew her friend was incapable of strictly being passive aggressive. She knew she was walking into a den of pure aggression, and to a degree, that kept her away, coward that she thought herself to be because of it.

“You don’t seem interested to hear about Clarke,” Lexa shrugged, wringing her fingers again.

“Yeah, is it obvious?”

“Why do you hate her?”

“I don’t… I don’t hate her,” Luna shook her head, leaning back in her chair and finally turning it slightly so that she was facing her bed. “It was always supposed to be us though. You and me, applying to school, making movies.”

“You’re jealous?”

“No. I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed that my plans are being ruined.”

“That’s why I’m here to apologize and ask for a slight break from your eagerness.”

“Oh, so now I’m annoying and over eager?”

“That’s not what I said,” Lexa held up her hands in defeat. “But I need my best friend back, and I can’t give you every spare minute for this movie. I’m giving you all of them that I have, but I do have to sleep from time to time.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Luna offered before cracking a smile.

She tilted her head slightly, letting it rest on her shoulder as she eyed Lexa, her face softening slightly, though not enough to put Lexa completely at ease. Luna was never one to soften. She was intense, and it was constant.

“I need you to like Clarke,” Lexa continued. “I-- I-- I think we’re… I think that there’s a chance we’re going to be-- We are talking abo-- I like her a lot, and I think she likes me.”

Completely pink in the cheeks, Lexa sighed with the admission as she looked down at her hands knotting themselves together, her fingers wrangling and wrapping themselves around each other to escape or personify her own feelings at that exact moment. Despite it all, despite the severity and venomous tongue her friend owned, Lexa knew Luna would listen, at least partially.

“I don’t mean to sound like this jealous asshole,” Luna sighed. “I just miss you.”

“I knew it.”

“Shut up.”

“I did though,” Lexa smiled, leaning back on her elbows on the bed, her legs stretching out in front of her over the side of it. “Stop getting annoyed at me for missing deadlines.”

“I won’t.”

“Try.”

“Whatever,” Luna shrugged. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now do you want to get to work and stop being such a jealous baby?”

“You’re the worst,” Luna shook her head and tossed a notebook at her friend.

Lexa dodged the notebook, catching it before it hit her in the chest, gentle and wafted and not meaning to hurt. She earned a smile and though it was tense, the air felt slightly more hospitable and normal.

It was hard to say what normal was anymore, the past year being nothing more than an absolute game changer, in every sense of the word. But for an evening, Lexa could at least say she had her friend back.

“Can we adjust the future projections now?” Lexa grinned. “With time for being human factored in?”

“Since when are you human?”

“Tuesday, September second.”

“That’s awfully specific,” Luna muttered as she looked at the poster they'd’ developed to track applications for college.

“It’s when I met Clarke. And Monday, November fourtheenth. That’s when I came out to my dad. And Thursday, November twenty-fifth is when I came out to my mom.”

“And now you’re human?” she wondered. “I’ve known you liked girls since we were twelve.”

“Family is tough, but mine is coming back. It’s… it’s nice. Feels human.”

Luna looked away from her planning and her dates to look at the contemplative girl on her bed, the one she thought she knew better than anyone else. There was a different look to her, different than the one Luna suspected was because of the stupid cheerleader.

“I’m glad to hear it. Tell me how Sir Tim allowed you to cut down on extracurriculars.”

And just like that, they were back in some small way.

XXXXXXXXX

The music was too loud, but that didn’t matter. Clarke stared at her ceiling and didn’t even listen to the words that blared in her ears, deafening her from the rest of the quiet house. She didn’t move at all, but laid there, still as could be, thinking. Hands linked over her stomach, she felt herself breathing intermittently.

The room wasn’t messy, but it certainly wasn’t clean. Clothes were lumped in a corner and scattered elsewhere on the floor. Her backpack and stack of books flopped, half on the floor, half on her bed from her attempt at homework. Sketches covered a desk with various drawing equipment, paint dripped onto the old rugs she used to keep her mother at bay from complaining. It was exceptionally normal.

Clarke tilted her head and looked toward the window, and at the orange trees and street outside, flooded with rain and snow in the miserable winter night. Pictures from various moments in her timeline littered the wall next to her bed. Long forgotten smiles and friends beamed, dressed up in little cheerleader costumes, dressed in camp outfits, dressed in stupid costumes for various school events. Her wallpaper was memories that seemed incredibly insignificant at the moment.

She looked back toward her ceiling for a moment before looking toward her door, a monstrous thing with clothes and coats and bags hung on it, giving it a hump. There was so much stuff, so many things, everywhere. Her room was full and busy and she looked back at her ceiling and felt very far removed from everything.

A year and a half and she could leave it all behind, she thought to herself as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Hey, want to come to my game on Friday? A text beeped, interrupting her song.

With a big stretch, Clarke wiggled up on her bed and grabbed her phone from where it was hidden beneath a stack of notebooks and binders. She smiled at seeing Lexa’s text despite herself, despite her mood.

I know it’s super boring, but I thought, maybe, we could, like after, maybe grab food and hang out?

The soccer player, the class secretary, the debate team captain, the SAT tutor, the valedictorian and all around heart throb to just Clarke, was an adorable mess, even in text, and Clarke loved it because rarely did something so good and pure exist in the world. Rarely did someone speak so honestly about what their problems were. Rarely did anyone acknowledge that life was shit, but kept going anyway.

I’m working this Friday. After can we head to Tall John’s party? His parents are out of town and it’s McKenzie’s birthday.

Clarke badly needed a drink and a night to just… to forget. She couldn’t think of anything better than hanging out with Lexa.

Um, yeah. Sure. That sounds fun. I’m um, not too good at parties.

I’ll teach you. We don’t have to stay long.

Sounds good. Not too late? Sorry to sound like a nerd, but my parents want to do a bike ride on Saturday morning. Their next attempt at family bonding.

Promise.

You want to come?

Do I want to get up early on Saturday and go on an outrageously long bike ride with three of the fittest people I’ve ever seen in one gene pool?

Yeah.

Clarke chuckled to herself and shook her head.

Maybe I can come over after work Saturday and we can do homework and movies?

This weekend just got to be spectacular. That sounds amazing.

How was your night?

Despite the messages, Clarke sat up in her bed and looked around at her room. She redid the messy bun in her hair, tightening it as she prepared for battle. The music continued to thump in her brain, the words disappearing, not relevant anyway.

Good. Luna and I edited and worked on the script for our feature for film school applications. She agreed to back off, as much as she can.

I told you, just talking to her will help. She’s very focused.

That’s a nice way to put it. But she keeps me going.

Clarke smiled at her phone before tossing it onto her desk and wondering where to start. She settled on trash, tugging everything off of her wall and throwing it into a pile in the middle of her room. And only when the walls were bare did she begin to gather everything and shove it in trash bags.

It went that way until her room was almost empty and orderly. It looked like she moved out. Any clothes that didn’t fit in the closet or dresser were filtered through and put in a bag for donation. Anything that tied her there, to that town, to her family, it was tossed. Clarke found herself scrubbing away a layer of film that grew on her skin, scrubbing away everything over the past year or so. She wanted to be clean. She wanted to be new.

Lexa, I don’t know what to say to my mom.

With nothing left to clean, with the room empty and almost cell-like, Clarke sat on her bed and cradled her phone, a few hours removed from her last conversation with another living being. It was nearly three in the morning, and she knew Lexa would be asleep, but she had to admit it to someone.

Once more, she flopped back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, her hands crossed over her ribs as she felt each breath.

“Hello?” she whispered as her phone began to vibrate more than a text.

“Hey,” Lexa yawned before clearing her throat. Her voice was scratchy and full of sleep, but that didn’t stop her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“Then I’m extra sorry.”

“I’m not.”

They were quiet. Clarke tried to listen to any noise on the other end, but all she got was the slight adjustment of sheets and another stifled yawn.

“It has to get easier,” Lexa whispered.

“Did it for you?”

“Kind of, yeah,” she decided. “It’s getting better every day. Sometimes I lapse and get sad and feel lost, but for the most part, It feels better than yesterday.”

“Mine’s kind of fresh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do I tell my dad?” Clarke wondered.

“That’s up to you, but I don’t think you can decide at three in the morning.”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Then don’t worry for a few more hours, and try to sleep.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Maybe. Want me to hang out until you do though?” Lexa asked, half asleep herself.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Clarke smiled to herself and blushed at the admission.

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries. I was up anyway.”

Clarke smiled at the obvious lie and closed her eyes despite the light on, despite her clothes, despite it all, and she just enjoyed the quiet and the night and the girl on the other line.

XXXXXXXXX

There weren’t any nerves to it, but still Lexa was anxious as she waited by the locker of the girl that kept her up until four in the morning. There weren’t many nerves because she was still too groggy to have real nerves, but she had them beneath it all.

She adjusted her backpack and leaned against the lockers in the busy hallway before the first bell rang. She looked at her shoes and nudged her toes against the polished floor.

When she looked up, she held her breath, her lips too agape to fully smile though they very much wanted to do just that. As if she’d slept for a full ten hours, Clarke Griffin made her way through the hall, hair billowing and angelic, completely stuck in slow-motion. Lexa gulped and adjusted the strap of her heavy bag again before fiddling with the clasp.

“Good morning, tiger,” Clarke smiled. “Waiting for little old me?”

“I brought you breakfast,” Lexa offered, pulling the banana and protein bar from her sweatshirt.

“You are very sweet. Have I told you that lately?”

It burned the whole way up to the tips of her ears, but Lexa looked away from Clarke’s smile and back at the toes of her shoes.

“Yeah last night.”

“Good,” Clarke decided. “I wanted to thank you for… just staying up with me.”

“Anytime.”

She closed her locker after grabbing the right books and nodded to herself before pausing and leaning near Lexa. Clarke played with the strap of Lexa’s bookbag now, her fingers moving anxiously as they hovered closer.

“I’m becoming quite a pain in your life, huh?”

“Nope.”

“First your friend starts to hate you, now I take all your time up. I’m a menace.”

“I told you that I’d help. Do whatever. I don’t know. Sometimes we just need someone else to bring them a banana.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Clarke smiled.

Pressing forward, Clarke gripped the backpack strap firmly and slowly leaned toward Lexa’s lips before gently kissing her. She held it for a moment until she smiled enough to ruin it.

Lexa cleared her throat and blushed a little more.

“Want to come over after school? I’m going to paint my room.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Clarke smiled and intertwined their fingers.

XXXXXXXXXX

“So, this is your… room?” Lexa furrowed as she looked around the near empty shell of a bedroom.

The bed was covered in a drop cloth, while the walls were completely empty and not a thing was where it should have been, the desk and the dresser and a chair and a shelf pushed towards the center in preparation of the work to happen.

Clarke nodded and stirred the pain in the can.

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to change the color of the room.”

“I picked it when I was eight.”

“What a difference eight years will make,” Clarke smiled and poured into the tin. “I was a huge fan of purple.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Lexa grimaced slightly at the childish color.

“Which is why I’ve decided that my new life will be a much more mature color. The new year is a year of power moves only.”

“What’s that?”

Clarke stood and grabbed a roller and wet it. Hand on her hip, she held it up valiantly, prepared for everything and at least pretending to know what she was doing.

“It means, I’m only moving forward and doing what I want. Clean slate. No more childish stuff.” She paused for a moment, thoughtful and strong. “I’m going to change the fucking world.”

It was with a line like that, that Lexa decided she’d follow Clarke to the ends of the Earth.

“Power moves only,” Lexa agreed and picked up a roller.

For an hour they worked and got the first coat of paint on the walls, edged neatly and expertly by the debate team captain. Music played softly from Clarke’s phone on the window ledge, and the fan rocked and hummed quietly, attempting to usher in another coat before bed.

It got dark quickly in the winter, but that didn’t stop them. Lexa had a backpack full of homework and found herself slightly tired from being up all night, but that didn’t stop her. She had music and Clarke all to herself and it felt good and easy. She wasn’t going to stop.

“Are the glow-in-the-dark stars part of this new you?” Lexa asked as she laid on the floor next to a paint-splattered Clarke. Her own hands were caked in streaks and her shift had an accidental streak across it.

“I can’t change completely. They have to stay.”

Shoulder to shoulder, they looked at the poorly constructed constellation above them as the smell of paint wafted through the room.

“This has something to do with what we saw the other day, doesn’t it?” Lexa whispered.

“No.”

“It’s okay if it does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’d be… I don’t even know. I’d be devastated,” Lexa continued, turning her head to see Clarke’s profile.

The girl beside her worked hard to remain stoic, but cracked slightly, letting out a big breath and closing her eyes. Lexa froze as Clarke’s chest inflated again. A streak of grey paint ran down her jaw and neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” Clarke confessed. “I feel so…. So angry.”

“And hurt?”

“Maybe,” she sighed, her breath shaky. “Maybe deep beneath the anger.”

Lexa watched it all happen. She couldn’t look away. And then a tear made its way down the side of her face and into her hair, though Clarke tried to wipe it away quickly. Another came a second later, and Clarke sniffled and took a deep breath to steady herself.

There hadn’t been many times Lexa knew what to do when someone else was crying. There really hadn’t been any that she could think of. Nothing ever seemed right. But that didn’t stop her from rolling over and propping herself up on an elbow. Gentle as she could, Lexa wiped away one side, and then the other.

“You are far tougher than you realize,” Lexa promised. “You’ll know what to do eventually.”

Clarke finally met Lexa’s eyes. They were even more blue when hidden behind the glass of stifled tears. Pure blue. Blue blue.

“I’m sick of being angry,” Clarke whispered.

Lexa let her hand migrate to the corner of Clarke’s jaw where she rubbed softly, hoping it would help in some way.

“Me too,” she agreed. “Let’s stop being angry right now.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Why not?” Lexa smiled, earning one from Clarke as well, no matter how small it was.

Somehow, Lexa became aware of her body and how it was pressed against the entirety of Clarke’s. Her leg as slid over Clarke’s hip, her stomach touched her elbow, her arm covered her chest. Clarke must have known too, because she smiled and looked at Lexa’s lips.

Tentatively, asking permission, Lexa leaned forward and stopped, stuttering her way forward until she held her breath and felt Clarke kiss her Somehow a hand slid to the back of her neck and she  ran out of air, but still kept kissing the girl on the floor with the paint all over.

There was a tiny hum, though Lexa wasn’t sure who made it. She thought it was herself for a moment, but then infinitely liked the idea that it was Clarke even more. Of their own accord, her hips pressed forward while her hand slid to Clarke’s neck, and then to her chest quickly before settling on her ribs.

She made out with Clarke and forgot everything else, and as self control waned, her hand slid higher until she spread her palm and felt Clarke’s chest. Hesitantly, she paused there until Clarke’s back arched and filled up her hand on its own. Lexa did not mind, nor did she ever want to put anything else in her hand. It only spurred her to kiss Clarke deeper, her body doing things before her brain could overthink it.

Clarke pulled Lexa slightly until she was half atop her, thigh slipping between her own. She dug her hands into Lexa’s shoulders. For too long they made out on the floor with their bodies doing things they weren’t quite sure of, but desperately needed. Clarke groaned only when Lexa pulled away, lips swollen and eyes clearly wide.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I shouldn’t have.”

“Shut up,” Clarke shook her head.

Lexa looked down at her hand still on Clarke’s chest, still rooted firmly there. She should have moved it, but couldn’t.

“Anything to distract you, I guess.”

“Consider me distracted,” she promised.

Clarke let her head drop back onto the floor before moving her hips, adjusting slightly and tugging Lexa to lay atop her. She kissed her cheek, kissed her forehead and settled there on her floor, cheeks slightly pink and lip slightly bitten from Lexa’s teeth.

Neither said anything. Neither had to.

[jiminslipgloss]

Chapter 4 - History, Hentai, and Hickeys

Pairing - OT7 x Reader, Some Member x Member

Genre - Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff

A/N - Sorry there’s a lot of backstory in this one - Admin Lily

The rest of the day after the locker room incident was relatively calm. No one came up to Jungkook about it or teased him about anything at all. Taehyung’s reputation really stretched across the school. If he didn’t want something talked about, then it wouldn’t be. The only people he couldn’t control were: Bangtan Sonyeondan. Sometimes they are called the bulletproof boys or BTS, but no one calls them by their official titles, however. ‘Hall monitor’ just doesn’t have a ring to it or sound nearly as cool as BTS. After a *minor* incident with campus police a few years back, the school decided to create a group of peers that students could talk to if they weren’t comfortable talking to campus police or if they knew it wasn’t a big enough deal to take legal action. There are two groups, one all-male and one all-female.

Both groups interact with students to make the campus feel safer and more comfortable for everyone. At least that’s what the school board would tell you if you asked what their purpose was. If you asked BTS or Weki Meki what their job was, they would say to party harder than everyone else and to make sure everyone has a good time. Weki Meki didn’t have as strong of a reputation as BTS. The ego boost from the first round of boys initiated into the group never seemed to fade away. The original girls weren’t as rambunctious as the guys, and the expectations for the next generation became set in stone and haven’t changed since. Undoubtedly, the girls still know how to party, but they didn’t let the title go to their heads as much as the boys did. Requirements to get into either group are brutal. Applicants must be prettier than a 7.8, (yes a whole scale was made to ensure that no one ever slipped up and became too ugly to be considered a face of the school), you had to shotgun three beers in a row, be voted in by one of the existing members, and lastly show up to class. The last one seemed like the sanest qualification; however, ‘hall monitors’ were enrolled in a course specifically for their meetings. It made sense to create an hour where kids could go speak to them and get help, quickly it turned into a gossip hour, and people rarely went in to see them. Bangtan even stopped letting people into their meetings so they could only talk amongst themselves. It took quite a bit of convincing to allow them to do so, but every member of BTS is an athlete and simply got all their coaches to convince the dean that using their hour to talk to each other would make solving students issues into a group effort and people could approach them in a more private manner, promoting honestly. Now, at first, the dean shook off the request. The dean wasn’t on board until the group agreed to change the names of students to protect their confidentiality. Overall this sounded like a good plan, but Bangtan never really enforced the confidentially of students with the other boys. Right now BTS included, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook got in because Taehyung was a part of it, and he wanted an excuse to see him more. He was going to try to interact with the other boys, but once he heard the way they talked about women, he decided to just spend his time at the meetings in the corner sitting on Taehyung’s lap. Most days, he’s making out with him, especially if Taehyung’s icy blue hair was still curly after his morning shower. Yoongi stayed in the back away from everyone. He was usually playing on his Gameboy color (It was the grey one, not his hot pink one decorated with stickers, that one stayed hidden in his room where no one would find it) and listening to hard rap on his air pods. Namjoon rarely appeared at the meetings at all. No one really noticed or cared to kick him out of the club for not showing up. He was the son of one of the board members and could do whatever he wanted. He was usually practicing tennis. If he cared to show up, he’d be sketching in his notebook, contributing one or two crude comments to the three remaining boys’ discussions. 

Today was worse than ever. Yoongi was sulking in the corner as usual. Namjoon was actually there and immersed in his drawings. Taehyung and Jungkook were busy were eating each other’s faces, not giving a single fuck about who could see them. Not that any of them really were bothered because they did that almost every day now. Hoseok and Seokjin were mindlessly playing on their phones, waiting for Jimin to arrive. He was notorious for being late, and today was no exception. Around ten minutes after the meeting was supposed to start, he finally burst through the door. 

“Sorry guys, I was a little caught up.” Said Jimin, slightly out of breath. 

“Man, I can see right through you. You’re a soccer player for God’s sake.” Said Seokjin while putting down his phone and shaking his head at the younger boy. 

Jimin settled into his usual spot, taking off his jacket and setting his bag down next to him. “What on Earth do you mean, Jin?” 

“We all know that you and Yoojung were fucking in some empty classroom, or her car, or wherever like you do practically every Thursday,” Hoseok said, setting down his phone and smirking at Jimin. 

“WHAT NO I WASN’T!” Jimin uttered in the most sarcastic tone he possibly could. Laughing by the end of the sentence, not able to keep up his concerned act. 

Seokjin shoved him, and suddenly perked up to say, “Anyway now that Jimin is here, I can’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer.” 

“Oh, and what might that be, Jin?” Jimin said, leaning forward, on one hand, to listen in closer to his next words.

However, Seokjin got up and said: “WELL, someone here has got a pretty large secret resting right on their neck.” He slammed both hands down on Namjoon’s shoulders, causing him to jump and smudge his drawing.

“DUDE!!!” Namjoon said, “You ruined my drawing...” His voice, trailing off as he attempted to use his kneaded eraser on the smudged charcoal. 

“Oh whatever, you’re probably just drawing hentai anyway,” Jin said, lifting his hands off his shoulders. He shot a fake look of concern to the other boys who were stifling their laughter. 

“W-WHAT I WASNT DRAWI-” Namjoon tried to defend himself before Jin cut in. 

“I don’t care about your mediocre drawings, motherfucker. I care about the massive fucking hickey on your neck.” He teased. 

“Wait a minute, you have to be joking,” Jimin said as he leaped out of his chair to investigate the nervous boy’s neck.

“Please, guys i-its nothing, just forget about all this and let me just sit here and draw, you know I have to be in here at least once a week, I won’t be here tomorrow just, just please let it go.” Namjoon pleaded, his eyes darting to each of the boys now crowding him. They were pulling at the collar of his letterman jacket, succeeding in discovering the bluish, purple bruise decorating the lower part of his neck. If they were to see the ones covering his chest, they would realize that it was much smaller in comparison. 

“Oh, Joonie, you simply have to tell us who’s rocking your world this month. It’s just not fair that you get to hear about our conquests, and we don’t get to hear yours.” Hoseok said through a taunting grin.

“Exactly, and don’t spare any dirty details,” Jimin said, wiggling his eyebrows and giggling through his smile. All the boys’ stares were making Namjoon squirm even more in his chair. 

“Come on guys, I can’t, I don’t wanna do that to her.” He said, standing quickly to try and escape the threatening situation.

“Not so fast, lover boy.” Hoseok made it to the door before he could make it out. “You weren’t acting like this last month. In fact, you were blabbing nonstop about some particularly flexible redhead...” 

Namjoon sighed, sitting back down at the closest desk. His head rested in his hands for a minute before he finally sat back in his chair. “Her name was Megan, Hobi, and she wasn’t that great if she wasn’t bending over,” Namjoon said. He couldn’t help grinning when the other boys got riled up again. 

“That’s right, he’s back!! Come on, tell us about this new girl then, even though I admit, I’d still love to talk about Megan some more.” Jimin said. 

“Really?” Jin said, “I think I’ve heard so much these past weeks, It feels like I’ve slept with her.” He pulled up a chair to gather around Namjoon, who was actually looking quite smug. 

“You definitely haven’t, Jin. There’s so much more that she could do that Joonie didn’t tell you both. He is right about her being a bore outside the bedroom, though.” Hoseok said, leaning against the door frame.

“WHAT?!? Wait, off-topic, Joonie was about to open up about who opened up.” Jin said with a wink. 

“Actually, I’m not. This girl is different. I really like her, and I don’t want to mess this up.” Namjoon mumbled, picking at a loose string on his t-shirt.

“Ohhhhhh shit, is Namjoonie catching feelings??” Jimin sang in a teasing and childish voice. He started poking Namjoon’s arm repeatedly. “Come on, just tell us her name.” 

An eruption of “Please, please, please, please” and “Come on you have to” arose from the three teasing boys. 

“You know what, no I’m not fucking telling you guys. Now just fuck off.” Said a blushing Namjoon, as he pushed his way out of the classroom. 

“Goddamn, he is absolutely whipped,” Jin said, laughing off the sudden outburst. 

“Goddamn is right,” Hoseok said, gazing out the now opened door. Everyone in the hall looked away after a few seconds. Everyone except one girl who was staring directly into the classroom, utterly shocked. 

The other boys looked out to see her. After a few seconds of just glancing at one other, Jin winked at her, causing her to look away finally. Hoseok shut the door after that and sat back down. 

“Who the hell is that?” Said Hoseok, still looking at the small window in the door. She could still be seen talking to her friends and is visibly blushing now. 

“I have no idea she must be new this year, a freshman.” Jimin trailed off, staring out the window as well. 

They sat in silence for a few seconds, just looking out at the cute new girl across the hall. She eventually walked away, but not before gazing back into the window and winking back at the boys. 

“DIBS!” They yelled unanimously, causing them to finish the meeting, arguing about the mysterious new face in their hallways.

[let-it-raines]

I was reading this "ex prompt list" and while I want you to write all of them, I really liked this one: "You talk about me in your new song and I get mad over it, so I’m standing outside your apartment door to argue, only to see you open the door half naked." Thank you, darling! You're a gift!

She’s on her way home from work when she hears it. Listening to the radio isn’t something she does, not anymore, but her car can’t connect to her phone’s Bluetooth and she forgot the aux cord, so it was either the radio or silence.

She probably should have stayed in silence.

Because for the first time in three months, for the first time since she was in Target and heard one of his songs over the speakers, she hears his voice.

And she hates it.

But she apparently hates herself a little bit more because she doesn’t change the station or turn the radio off. She doesn’t recognize the opening chords to this song. She recognizes the chords to every song. She knows all of the lyrics, all of the rifts and pauses. She knows everything.

But she doesn’t know this one.

It’s quiet, sullen, the usually prominent instruments muted in the background so that his voice comes through as clearly as possible. It takes her thirty seconds and two references of a swan flying away – really subtle there, Jones – for her to realize that the song is about her. She has to pull over to the side of the road, making several different cars blare their horns at her, but she can’t…she can’t listen to this while driving. She can’t hear him sing a song that’s clearly about their break up. She has to listen, but she can’t do anything else.

She can barely breathe.

He sounds broken. But she knows that’s on purpose. He records those songs a million times over, until he gets them exactly how he wants them to be, so she knows that he’s manufactured it this way. She’s watched him record enough songs to know how things work.

How dare he do this.

How dare he put their private life out there for anyone with ears to hear.

Hot tears sting behind her eyes, and she has to bury her face in her hands while her throat constricts, emotion lodging itself there and making her feel as if she has to vomit. Or as if she can’t breathe. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything.

All she knows is that she misses him. She misses Killian.

But right now she hates him for making her relive their breakup, for making her relive the agony that was the weeks and months of separation that inevitably led them to walking away from each other.

Or maybe it was her.

She’s not sure. If anything, it’s all a blur of tears and alcohol, sobs wracking her body while she was unable to feel anything but pain. She’d waited so long to find someone who understood her, who wanted to be with her with no reservations, who wouldn’t leave. But then he had left. It had been for work. She knows this. She understands this. Despite everything, she wants nothing more than for him to be happy and to follow his dreams. She just wishes it didn’t come at the expense of them.

She just wishes she’d been strong enough to handle the months of separation and the way that their schedules never matched up, the way that they were constantly missing each other when they tried to call.

The song ends and immediately something happy, upbeat plays through her speakers. She’s having some kind of meltdown on the side of the road, and the world keeps going by. Cars continue to drive by, shaking her bug with their momentum, and the song that’s about one of the worst periods of her life is quickly forgotten and replaced by something about…dancing in a club. It’s literally just about dancing.

She lets out a watery chuckle, the emotion that was lodged in her throat clearing the slightest bit so that she can breathe. Was she not breathing? She might not have been breathing.

Now that she can breathe again, she inhales, sucking her chest in before letting out a gush of air in an attempt to calm herself. In her review mirror she can see that her face is red and splotchy, that her eyes are still watery, and she has to wipe away the snot that’s formed at her nose.

It’s as she’s rubbing her eyes, trying to clear her vision, that all of the sadness starts to twist, transforming into something else entirely. She’s pissed. Absolutely pissed. And she can’t help but think of her earlier thoughts when the song first started playing.

How dare he do this to her.

How dare he write that song and put it on the radio.

Before she knows it, she’s putting her car in drive, looking over her shoulder to make sure the road is clear, before she’s pulling off of the dirt and onto the pavement, speeding down the road in the direction of Killian’s apartment instead of toward hers, driving in the direction of the place where she lived for so long. She knows he’s home, that he’s in town. And she only knows this because David still talks to him, still talks about him, and she overheard David talking to Mary Margaret about Killian being home for the next few weeks and how they’re going to go out for a pint to catch up.

She knows the path to his apartment better than she knows the path to her own, a right here followed by another until it’s a straight shot to the parking garage underneath his building. She still has her sticker, the one that lets her inside. She never could get the damn thing off.

But now it’s useful as she pulls into an empty guest space, hastily getting out of the car and slamming the door shut as she makes her way over to the elevator, hoping that the code hasn’t changed and she can still get inside. It’s only two minutes before she’s standing in front of his door, the momentum and adrenaline propelling her hand forward until she’s banging on the wood so roughly that her hand might actually hurt.

She hurts.

Every bit of anger, of malice, of disappointment that she has is on the tip of her tongue, posed to be spit at him as soon as she sees him, but then the door is swung open and she sees him for the first time in…shit. It’s been five months. It’s been three months since she heard his voice in Target, but it’s been five months since she’s seen him.

And he’s now standing in front of her with his hair damply falling across his forehead, water trailing down the hair of his chest, and the words of his tattoo peeking up over the white towel he has slung across his hip.

Fuck.

She doesn’t have any other words, especially as his fists clench and the muscles in his arms strain while his jaw ticks. He’d look surprised when she first showed up, his lips parting before closing, almost as if he had something he wanted to say. But now he looks angry, a storm raging behind his eyes, and all she can think about is the time that they went to Bermuda for their anniversary and spent the entire week either in bathing suits, a towel, or nothing at all.

“What are you doing here, Swan?”

There’s no anger in his voice though. It’s calm, even, and it’s that fact that gets her back on track. He sounded broken in the song. He’s obviously not broken like she is.

“How dare you write that song,” she spits, trying to keep her voice just as steady, knowing that she’s failing. “You just put our life, my life, out there for everyone to hear.”

“No one knows it’s about you.”

“I do! I know! Our friends know! Everybody goddamn knows! I’m driving down the road on my way home from work, trying to live my life, trying to move on, and I just have everything that I’m trying to forget thrown back in my face like that.”

“Love – ”

“Don’t call me that,” she cries, hating how her voice cracks. She shouldn’t have done this. She shouldn’t have come. She should have never let her emotions drive her, but that’s always what’s she’s done. She’s never been one to be able to hold back when she really feels. “I am not your love. You’ve made that very clear.”“Swan,” he grits, crossing his arms over his heaving chest, “if you want to yell at me, come inside. I have neighbors, and I don’t think we want them witnessing this.”

She huffs, disbelief that he’s actually inviting her inside so that she can continue this emotional breakdown, but her feet still carry her inside, her eyes glancing over the apartment the moment she gets inside. It all looks exactly the same.

She hates that it all looks the same.

Something should have changed.

All of her stuff is gone.

She’s gone.

Something should have changed.

She turns around to look back at Killian, who’s locking the door behind him before running his hands through his damp hair, pushing it back on his forehead, before he’s rubbing his fingers over his scruff. She hates how good he looks almost as much as she hates that that’s what she’s focusing on.

“Why are you here?” he sighs, the indignation he had replaced with acceptance. “The song? You’re mad about the song?”

“Of course I’m mad about the song. How could I not be? Have you heard it?”

“I wrote it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I have dozens of other songs about you, nearly every one of them on a record somewhere. You never seemed pissed about those then.”

“We weren’t broken up then.”“Well whose bloody fault is that? Because it’s not mine. I didn’t want to break up.”

“You think I wanted to break up?” she screams, not caring about staying calm while her entire body heats, her skin feeling overly warm and her head throbbing while her heart pounds. “You think I wanted to be having breakdowns on the side of the road because I can’t handle reliving parts of our relationship. You think I wanted to be the girl who sat at home and cried every time you didn’t pick up the phone? Every time you had to go one minute into our conversation? Every time I went out with my friends and heard your voice on the speakers at a bar when I hadn’t actually heard your voice in days? You think I wanted that?”

She can’t…she can’t breathe again, her heart beating far too quickly in her chest. This isn’t healthy. This isn’t good. She needs…she needs to sit down. So she does, collapsing to the ground and resting her back against his hallway wall while she wraps her arms around her knees and lets herself have another breakdown.

Who the hell needs dignity?

“Emma,” Killian sighs, and that only makes things worse. He never calls her Emma, not unless something is important, and she hates herself for this entire situation. She hates that he is able to still have this power over her, that she still loves him so much that she can’t fathom the fact that she’s not with him.

“Emma,” he repeats, kneeling down next to her, his towel opening as he squats, which really doesn’t help the situation at all. “Are you okay?”

“Do you think I’m okay?”

“No.” His thumb reaches up and wipes away the tears on her cheek. That’s the first time she’s felt his touch in five months too. And it’s also what makes her look up to see that he’s got a tear falling onto his cheek too. “I’m sorry, lo – Swan. I’m sorry that you heard the song and that it hurt you.”

“Why’d you write it then? You had to know that I’d hear it eventually.”

“Because I hurt too. Music is how I deal with things. You know this. You’ve always known this. And how the hell else am I supposed to deal with my heartbreak?”

“By writing the damn song and then not putting it on the radio.”

“I had to fulfill my contract. I had to release a new single.”

“Don’t you have another one? One that’s not about us?”

“No.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall and tightly closing her eyes all while she physically aches. She aches for them to be back to normal, aches for this to not be happening anymore. She should have never come here.

“How long are you home?”

“What?” he stutters, his voice visibly shaken.

She opens her eyes and looks back at him, attempting to even her breaths. “How long are you home this time? How long until you have to leave again?”

“A few weeks. I’ve got to go back and meet with the guys for a couple of days at the end of September.”

She doesn’t know why she does what she does next, but before she can stop herself, before she can think straight, she leans forward and slides her lips over his in a harsh, demanding kiss. Her hands are in his hair in an instant, using the soft strands to tug him closer, and his hands find her face, the warmth and roughness of the pads of his fingers holding her to him as well. It’s like being connected, like being right, after so many months of not feeling like herself, of feeling like something in her life is off kilter.

Like something is wrong.

She doesn’t care that they shouldn’t be doing this. She doesn’t care that she shouldn’t be pushing Killian against the floor, the hardwood uncomfortable under her knees, and she doesn’t care that she’s losing her mind over the way that Killian’s groaning into her mouth and thrusting his hips up against hers, the towel doing nothing to hide his arousal.

And she really doesn’t care when they stumble away from the entrance of his apartment and fall back into his bedroom, quickly and surely moving against each other in the way that they always have. He feels good, fantastic, and she knows she should never be thinking about she and Killian together when they’re very obviously having a relapse, a collapse back into the them they used to be.

So she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let herself not enjoy this, but she can’t speak, she can’t return Killian’s words of ecstasy and affection while he moves inside of her and above her. She simply falls into how good, how right, this feels, and figures that she’ll…she’ll figure it all out later.

It turns out when later comes that she’s still not ready to figure it out. She still doesn’t know what to do. Instead of getting up and leaving when they were finished, she didn’t. She stayed. She’s not sure that she had the strength to leave, that she even wanted to, so now she’s wrapped up in one of Killian’s sweaters while her legs are stuck in between his and his hands are trailing through her hair. She feels his heartbeat under her palm, the slow rise and fall of his chest a rhythm that she knows better than any other.

A rhythm that she knows better than any song he’s ever written.

“Sex doesn’t solve our problems, Swan. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she confesses, snuggling closer to him despite everything. “I don’t…we shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t even still be here. I’m not sure what came over me, over us.”“A hell of a lot of emotions.” She feels his lips against her forehead, the sweat that’s gathered there being pushed away. “We’ve got…there’s a lot left between us, love. There was never anything wrong between us, I don’t think. I just wasn’t there.”

“That’s kind of what went wrong. You can’t be in a relationship without being there.”

“But it’s not us. It was the distance, my job.”

“Which is your dream.”

“Aye, it was my dream,” he confirms softly, running his fingers through her hair and down her back. “It is my dream. But I should have never let it come between us. You’ve been my life for half a decade. You have been there for absolutely everything, and I should have tried harder, should have done more.”

“I don’t think there was anything either of us could have done.”

“I could have made more time to call. I could have scheduled breaks between cities. I could have booked a flight for me, for you. I could have done so much to save us, to make you feel less alone.”

“Killian, this isn’t all on you.”

“No, no, it’s not, but I’ve had five months of living alone, even when I wasn’t here, to think about all of the things I could have changed.”

“Me too,” she sighs, lifting her head from his chest and untangling her legs before she moves to the other side of the bed, putting distance between them all the while Killian rubs his hand up and down his face trying to work out the stress lines. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either. Do you even want to try again? Or are we chalking this up to a one-time thing? To a fallback?”

For the first time since she’s shown up here, he sounds as broken as he did during the song. He sounds like she feels, like there’s something missing, something just out of reach. He sounds…he doesn’t sound like Killian. Not the one that she knew. Not the one who woke her up in the mornings with a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes. Not the one who sang while he cooked, often burning the food because he would start writing down the beginnings of a song.

He doesn’t sound like the man who loved her.

The man who she loves.

“I don’t want it to be that,” she answers honestly, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. “But I can’t go back to how we were…what do you want?”

“You.”

A shiver runs down her spine, gooseflesh popping up on her skin.

“That’s all. You just want me?”

“Always, Emma,” he promises, his lips ticking up on the right and the lines around his eyes crinkling while his tongue clicks. “But you’re right. We can’t…I can’t leave like that. I can’t do things just for me without considering you. And you can’t let me just do it and say that things are okay.”

“I kind of figured you knew things weren’t okay.”

“You’ve never lied to me, so I didn’t expect it then. I always believed the words that you said.”

“So what are we doing, Killian? What do we do?”

He shrugs, sitting up against the headboard. “We try again. We make compromises. We do better. For ourselves. For each other. And maybe I don’t put a song out without letting you know.”She smiles, the first genuine smile without heartbreak hidden behind it, for the first time today. Maybe for the first time in months.

“I’d like that.”

It takes more than one day for things to get back to normal. It takes weeks, months really. Killian was a constant part of her life for five years, but after nearly half a year apart, things don’t simply snap back. Trust has to be rebuilt, routines have to become routine again, and she has to learn that things are never going to be perfect and that compromise is a hell of a lot harder than simply saying the word. You actually have to break and bend, give and give up, but it’s worth it if you want to make things work.

She wants to make things work.

Killian does too.

And the next time she hears a song on the radio that’s about her, Killian’s voice isn’t broken. And neither is her heart.

[seoulscenarios]

College AU! Bang Chan

ahhhhhh!!!!!! we made it to 100 followers today and we decided to release a special series in order to celebrate! starting with chan, we’ll be releasing a college au or two a day all to do with stray kids! i hope you enjoy and thank you all once again, bc without you we wouldn’t be doing this

- Major: Music Production (are we even surprised lmao)

-Minor: Home Economics

-Clubs: ……. He has no time to go to clubs, though he does occasionally help out Johnny at the radio station by sending him songs to play or, even once, he hosted alongside him, he also occasionally goes to seungmin’s baseball club to help him train bc he’s the sports dad lbr

- He’s a 3rd year student which means…… he’s currently dying

-Minho thought he had it bad being a education major but chan,,,,, his bloodstream was coffee, he became one with the coffee lmao

-Chan hyung? When did you last sleep?

-Sleep? What is this sleep you speak of?

-Speaking of hyung, chan rent out his apartment bc he’s a broke student and he basically ended adopting a fellow australian in the form of Felix who was a 1st year,,,, which meant chan practically adopted him and his merry bunch of friends

-Not that he minded,,,, but his wallet did lmao bc paying for 9 people at bbq during peak time,,,,, chan practically cried and shut himself in the recording studio and wrote a song about how the ones you worry about aren’t your enemies but the ones who smile like the sun then rob u blind at dinner

-(lmao no chan loved his kids really and one time felix did offer to pay he practically wrestled him,,,,, chan won)

-So his major

-Is mostly practical with a tiny bit of theory throw in once a week to learn about different production techniques which chan found HELLA interesting bc he loved to learn new things about music

-Music was his passion and he had no doubt about going to uni to do music as a career because there was nothing else he ever wanted to do

-So Chan gets sit in a recording studio most days and gets Woojin to sing on some of his tracks whilst bribing two of Felix’s friends who he met at an underground rap scene to record as well

-The first time he met those two friends, Changbin and Jisung, he felt an instant connection esp bc he found out that Changbin was the kid his production teacher was enthusing about for weeks lmao

-And whilst Jisung didn’t major in music production, his song writing and rap flow were so unique that chan was determined to recruit him

-Luckily,,,, they both agreed bc they already knew who chan was from Felix and he has campus reputation for being the best music student on campus (not that chan really knew about this,, he was just very confused whenever he saw gangs on giggling people around him that he almost always looked around to see if Taeyong or Daniel were nearby lmao sweetie no it’s you)

-Him, Changbin and Jisung formed a trio and they all wrote songs and performed in underground uni clubs and rumour says that whenever 3racha performed there was a waiting list for about 3 months

-The three of them were extremely popular but they rarely performed as Chan was extremely busy with 3rd year work oh no

-But whenever they did

-Oh boy

-Was it extremely popular

-Throngs of people,,,, and a lot of phones taking recordings and posting them on the college snapchat or on Instagram

-They became a famous group though not many of them knew the boys by their real names bc they had stage names uwu

-Only those who were very into the music scene figured out that CB97 was the music production departments’ prize angel student and when they tried to tell other people on the campus,,,, they never believed it bc how could Bang Chan, a sweetheart, rap like that about such deep issues when he performed at college festivals and showcases he played softer mellower songs

-Your friends were very much into Bang Chan and 3racha and they were always found amongst the gaggles of people who saw him round campus or attended 3racha concerts religiously

-Not that you could ever be seen amongst the gaggles

-You had quite the reputation on campus,,, the kids had nicknamed you stone y/n stemmed from the fact you were from a pretty well known family, and walked around campus with a completely blank face and only had a few friends that could crack your exterior

-People generally avoided you bc they weren’t sure whether they could even talk to you without being glared at or ur family would come for them

-It was a bit sad really,,, bc u weren’t that scary lmao

-You just wanted to pass college with good grades and you never went out on nights out or anything, you weren’t against it you just didn’t find it interesting,,,, much the opposite to your friends who LOVED going out, you let them get on with it and they respected your decision as well

-You weren’t even sure if Bang Chan was a real person or just a campus urban myth bc u had never seen him before

-No matter how many times ur friends tried to drag you to the local underground rap scene bc “OMG Y/N 3RACHA IS PERFORMING TONIGHT AND YOU NEED TO SEE THEM OMG!!p”£!” (this is one thing they always tried to drag you to bc they knew you would love the music)

-You never went because you would much rather be studying

-I mean, you were a law student and had many case studies and mock trials to study and prepare for so you didn’t have much free time

-And whilst you loved music, you had your life sorted out and you intended to graduate college this year with a 1st class honours so you could get your dream internship with a famous law firm

-Please Y/N you need to come out and see 3racha with us because their music is right up your alley musically 

-I… really can’t I have a mock trial coming up next week and I need to do well

-Promise me one day you’ll come with us

-Pinky promise, I’ll try and come to the next one if I can

-I’ll be holding you to that I will rip your law textbooks out of your hand and throw them out of the window

-SANA WHAT THE HELL

-A n y w a y

-You could be found most days at the library with a stack of law books and a highlighter in your hand, whilst you sipped coffee

-Little did you know that would be the day you finally encountered the urban myth that was Bang Chan

-At first you didn’t realise that he was stood opposite your table

-“Hi-uh there’s no other seats in the library apart from here….. is it okay if I sit on your table?”

-You startle out of the passage explain corporate law and look up to see Chan

-His silver hair was all curled and quite frankly a mess, his eyes wide and alert with extremely dark bags under them and his hand curled protectively around a large coffee

-You just nod, moving your materials closer to you so he could have some more space

-You heard him sigh in relief and slump in the chair opposite you, taking his laptop out of his bag alongside a notebook covered in stickers with bits of paper sticking out of it

- You rolled your eyes, thinking he was one of those students who procrastinated until the last week before his exam, and put your head back to your textbook, fully intending to ignore the boy opposite you

-You were surprised, however, to find that he was being quiet and just working on,,,,, whatever he was doing

-Most people who came to sat at your table were normally very distracting (constantly talking loudly on the phone, eating, sighing heavily and twirling pens u know the ones)

-It was quite a pleasant change from what you were used to and you settled down to finish your textbook chapter

-It was about an hour later, when you were taking a break, when Chan asked you a question

-He coughed and you looked up at him from your phone

-You noticed that he had a pair of very professional looking headphones around his neck and you couldn’t help but notice just how his eyes were sparkling

-“I’m going to grab a coffee and I was just wondering if you wanted one?”

-Oh what’s this

-Someone offering to buy you coffee,,, this has literally never happened before??

-“Oh um,,, only if you want to I mean it’d be really nice if you did law is killing me you know hahah but you really dont have to” you spluttered out

-“It’s no problem! You probably need a pick me up because I know I do, just keep an eye on my stuff yeah?” he replied before walking off to what you presumed the campus coffee shop

-You blinked a few times before trying to get back to your work, deeming your break to be over

-However you were kinda still a bit shocked that the cute boy opposite you offered to get you a coffee????

-Deciding that work wasn’t going to happen, you glanced over at the work he had left out

-You saw that the bits of paper you noticed earlier were scattered around his laptop and from what you could see, they appeared to have music notes and lyrics scattered across them

-A music major?? But why would a music major need a laptop??

-You thought about reading one of the lyrics sheets before realising that come on Y/N that’s someone’s work they probably don’t want a complete stranger to look at them

-You were still staring when the cute boy came back

-“One coffee for you, I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you an Americano?? I hope that’s okay?” he told you, handing you a cup

-“Americano is fine with me, it’s what I had earlier in fact! Thanks uh—”

-“Chan, my name is Chan. Or Chris. More often Chan to be honest. You’re welcome, but it’s only fair I get your name as well”

-“Y/N. Only Y/N.” you smiled at him which he returned

-And that’s when you saw his dimples

-They were extremely deep and, quite frankly, adorable

-Your eyes trailed Chan as he sat in his seat, slipping the headphones back over his ears and picking up a piece of paper

-You snapped your eyes back to your textbook, trying to focus back on corporate law whilst nursing your coffee with both hands

-It was a torturous 2 hours before you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore

-Chan kept distracting you

-Not that he meant to, you just found him to be extremely distracting

-y/n STOP YOU ONLY MET HIM TODAY

-As you began to pack your highlighters away you saw Chan slip off his headphones and unplug them from his laptop

-Great

-“Are you heading out?”

-“Oh uh yeah”

-“Cool same, wanna walk out together?”

-“Sure!” you replied a little too enthusiastically, internally groaning at yourself

-Chan, unbeknownst to you, found this extremely adorable and as he was packing his stuff away he snuck glances at you and saw the tips of your ears tinted red

-He smiled to himself as he swung his backpack over his shoulders, waiting for you pack your stuff away

-You,,,, were struggling

-Not only was Chan being extremely nice to you, you happened to have brought a lot of textbooks with you which seemed like a good idea when you came

-But walking back to ur dorm,,,,, seemed extremely bad

-You were balancing the last book onto the pile you were carrying when Chan popped up over the top of them

-And,,, without asking just grabbed a few of them and carried them for you, flashing his smile at you

-y/n ? y/n? oh my god they’re dead

-“You ready?”

-And that kids, is how one of the campus heartthrobs carried stone Y/N’s law books from the library to your dorm

-Safe to say the library, the campus, the world had stopped breathing as they saw the two of you walk across campus to the dorms chatting quite animatedly

-It turned out you and chan had very similar taste in music and he was just telling you about the project he was working on at the moment as you walked up the stairs to your dorm (the lift was broken,,, again)

-He offered to carry the rest of your books as you struggled to find your keys and balance the books as well

-You shook your head, finally grabbing your keys and unlocking the door

-Your roommate was unfortunately in and screamed your name when it DIED in their throat as their eyes lay upon Chan stepping in and following you to your desk

-“You can just put them there thanks so much Chan, you really didn’t have to”

-“I know” he smiled “you needed help though so I decided to”

-“I appreciate a lot” you smiled back (ur roommate was watching this with WIDE EYES and pulled out their phone to spam the gc bc hello chan was in your room and talking with you, also how could anyone think you were stone like bc you were blushing like MAD and ur roomie was cackling)

-“Anyway, I’ll see you round Y/N?”

-“Sure thing, I’m normally at the library in that same spot just hit me up there”

-Chan went to go leave before turning round and you looked at him questioningly

-“Can I get your number?”

-UR ROOMIE NEARLY SCREAMED AT THAT POINT AND SO DID YOU

-“Oh uh sure…”

-On the inside you were dying hello y/n ??? you there???

-Chan smiled and pulled his phone out, giving it to you

-You plugged ur number into his phone and u were blushing crazily rn

-Chan grinned at this, his dimples showing themselves and ur roomie was PLOTTING, typing furiously on their phone

-When you handed his phone back to him, Chan smiled at you before waving goodbye and leaving

-When the door shut ur roomie THREW THEMSELVES AT YOU THROWING QUESTIONS ABOUT WHY HAD BANG CHAN WALKED YOU HOME WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK Y/N U BETTER HAVE ANSWERS

-Ur roomie kept bombarding you with questions but you could only focus on one thing

-Bang Chan?? The Chan you met and had walked you across campus was the Bang Chan???

-“That was Bang Chan?!”

-Your roomie sighed heavily and was like YES U IDIOT THAT WAS THE BANG CHAN

-You flopped onto your bed wondering how this was your life when ur phone pinged with a message

-You groaned, taking it out eyes widening when u saw it was a message from Chan

-You opened it up, quickly saving the number to your phone before reading the message

-[from: XXX-XXXXX-XX] hi it’s me Chan! I remembered the song I was trying to tell you about earlier! Hope you enjoy

-Your roomie was enjoying this, watching u suffer and tapping a reply to Chan

-Giggling, they updated the group chat with a plan to get you and Chan together

-Luckily,,, one of ur other friends was friends with Felix as they were on the same course so they messaged him

-Felix replied almost instantly,,,, for Chan had just gotten back and was gushing about someone he met at the library

-All of a sudden,,, the mission to get the two of you together was formed in a separate 

-You were completely oblivious to this as you were too busy listening to the song and sending ur thoughts to 

-From that day on you and Chan texted quite frequently, normally sending each other music

-Occasionally he would send you some of the stuff he was working on, asking for ur advice

-Which you gave happily

-The two of you even arranged to meet up and study, taking it turns to buy coffee for each other

-It was all quite,,, sweet really

-However,,,, the two of you were toeing the line between friends and something more yet neither of you made the first step

-Which frustrated ur friends, chan’s friends, the entire campus at this point

-Just as the group chat was screaming to come up with a better plan

-Chan had invited you to a 3racha gig at the local underground bar

-You were a bit hesitant to reply when u saw that message,, u were never seen at these kinds of things and u didn’t want the campus to talk even more

-(ur friends were dying bc they were like Y/N PLEASE NO ONE IS GOING TO CARE THEY ALREADY KNOW,,,, yet but what if-  NO IFS)

-Chan sensed your hesitation over text and told you that you really didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to, he wasn’t pressuring you to go but the invite was there if you wanted it

-You replied with tons of smiley faces and hearts in apology

-He giggled in his apartment, but Felix noted the sad look in his eyes

-TIME FOR FELIX TO SPAM THE GC TO GET UR FRIENDS TO CONVINCE YOU TO GO

-Unfortunately,, you were quite stubborn about not going

-They eventually gave up after 2 weeks, knowing they shouldn’t push you anymore

-It wasn’t until your friends came round to ur dorm the night of the gig to get ready together

-You were sat on ur bed,,, mulling it over in your head

-What if I really did go?? Would anyone care?

-Bc honestly,,,, you wanted to go

-You wanted to see Chan perform in his element bc of the stuff he sent you,,,, you really enjoyed it

-You breathed in heavily

-“Guys,,,, I’ll go”

-“REALLY” “BABE IT’S TIME TO GET YOU LOOKING SMOKING FOR UR FIRST OFFICIAL NIGHT OUT” “WOOOO Y/N”

-You laughed, letting your friends pull u to ur feet and throwing clothes at you

-You were laughing all the way to the underground bar, decked in ur hottest clothes (according to sana) and looking extremely attractive (agreed by all of ur friends)

-When u entered the bar, you got slightly nervous bc u hadn’t told chan you were going to be there and u didn’t know how to act at this kind of place

-Sana grabbed your hand, leading you to a spot near the exit but still having a clear shot of the performance area

-Yugyeom, Mina, Bambam and Momo came back to your table, bearing hands full with different drinks

-You were a little overwhelmed, settling for the coke Mark passed to you wordlessly (he knew you didn’t like to drink that much, especially not in public)

-The six of you were chatting about your days, just happy to hang out all together when the lights went down and a few girls in the back screamed

-A heavy beat kicked in and a spotlight appeared on a figure you couldn’t recognise

-When all of a sudden, they began rapping and your jaw dropped as you realised it was Chan

-His voice was smooth and pleasant to listen to as he switched from rap to vocal, your jaw dropping as you couldn’t believe it was the same Chan who buys you coffee

-You were shocked to say the least

-Two more rappers joined in during the performance but quite honestly, your eyes kept being drawn to chan

-It wasn’t until, a few songs later, that one of the other rappers approached your table during Chan’s rap part

-“Hey hyung, what about them?”

-Chan turned and his eyes widened in recognition

-“Them? They’re really pretty” sending a wink at you before continuing his rap

-Safe to say your friends, and Chan’s friends (who were near you) ALL cheered and wolf-whistled whilst you had your head buried in your heads, blush overtaking your entire face

-Chan spared another look at you and saw how cute you looked all embarrassed UWU

-The rest of the gig continued and you still weren’t over how Chan had called you really pretty

-Sana kept glancing between you and Chan, noticing that the two of you kept looking at each other and she was like,,,, it’s time

-The gig had finished and people began to filter out

- But not you and the conspiracy group

-They convinced you to stay and Chan,,,, was overjoyed

-He approached you and all of a sudden ur friends had disappeared,,,, wow thnx guys xxx

-He slid into the chair opposite you and placed his hands on the table nervously

-“Um,, I didn’t think you’d actually be here wow”

-“I didn’t think I would be here either,,, but then I realised, I really wanted to see you”

-“Me?”

-“Yes,,,, I uh,,, really like you Chan”

-QUEUE CHAN BLUSHING BC WOW EVEN THOUGH HE CALLED YOU PRETTY EARLIER HE WANTED TO BE THE ONE TO ASK YOU OUT TONIGHT BUT HE COULDN’T HELP BUT LOVE HOW STRAIGHTFORWARD YOU WERE

-“Wow…… me too Y/N. I’ve been trying for weeks to try and ask you out you know” he laughed awkwardly

-You couldn’t help but giggle, reaching for his hands

-Chan smiled, intertwining his fingers with yours marvelling at how well they fit together

-“Say,, fancy ditching this lot and grab a movie at my place” you asked wickedly, sending a glance to your friends who were all watching with baited breath

-“Sounds good to me” he grinned back, standing up and pulling you at the bar to the sound of your friends wolf-whistling and Jisung groaning that he was going to have pack all the equipment whilst Changbin laughed at him

-DATING CHAN:

-It’s a dream

-He’s an actual perfect boyfriend and treated you with respect and you hadn’t been happier

-So sure, the campus body was extremely shocked to see the two of you walk around holding hands and occasionally kissing each other on the cheek

-But they LOVED it

-Stone Y/N suddenly lost their nickname,, becoming more known as Chan’s partner but still maintaining your cool demeanour bc hello,,,, u studied law and u knew things

-ANYWAY

-Chan would try and take you on dates quite often, ranging from a simple picnic on campus to a fancy dinner at a high end restaurant you were sure he couldn’t afford but still paid for it all anyway, despite ur constant protests that you could pay

-One day you planned a surprise date and bought him a new microphone (after much discussion with changbin about which one to go) he tried to refuse it, but you told him you threw the receipt away because you wanted to treat him

-(Chan refuses to admit that he cried when he went back to the dorm, but felix has photographic evidence to prove otherwise)

-He made up for it by writing a song for you and performing it at a 3racha gig which made you cry, the fangirls cry,,,, some even say that Changbin cried but he would dispute this reverently

-That’s one thing you do more often,, you go out a lot more and you try to go to every 3racha gig in order to support ur mans

-You were becoming a lot more open,, which one drunken night Sana was sobbing in your arms about how proud she was of you coming out of your shell because of Chan and if he ever broke your heart she would break something of his

-You had laughed at this,,, with wet eyes bc u were slightly emotional bc of what she said, reassuring you that if chan was going to break your heart you were very capable of breaking that very same part

-Dating Chan meant that you also became the official parent alongside Chan of all of his kids

-Felix took an immediate liking to you, sticking to you like glue whenever you all hung out together

-It was very cute tbh,,,, until they learnt that you were the infamous stone Y/N and ur family was extremely rich

-Chan snapped at the boys when they asked if you could treat them to expense bbq one day and they were all extremely sheepish after that

-You didn’t mind,,, u didn’t mind treating the boys bc you knew they wouldn’t try and manipulate you for it (hint: like some of ur first “friends” when u first got to college and Sana dragged Momo over to scare them away from you as they saw you constantly paying for everything… rumour has it that they still run away if they see momo at any place)

-You had to drag Chan away from them to calm him down

-He just didn’t want anyone to take advantage of you again,,,, he had nearly cried when you had told him why you were so closed off and didn’t have many friends

-You stroked the back of his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, reassuring him that it was fine

-When you went back to the boys,, they all apologised to you and you ruffled Felix’s hair lovingly

-Chan’s hand tightened around yours, and you shot him a look before announcing that it was your turn to pay for the family meal this time and dragged them all to a bbq place

-You and Chan were feeding each other at the table, much to the disgust of Seungmin and Hyunjin

-You just stuck your tongue out at them, feeding Chan another bit of chicken

-When you went to go pay the bill, all 9 of them tried to pay instead but you swatted them off brandishing your card at them before handing it to the cashier

- Who was very confused, accepting the card with a very concerned look on their face

-Like how was 1 person going to pay for a table of 10 when they had nearly eaten their entire kitchen

-Their face was a little shocked when the transaction went through and they handed the card back to you whilst the rest of the boys looked on awed

-“Now boys,,, that’s your quota for the month” you beamed at them, strutting out of the restaurant

-You just became their favourite person, but also most feared person in the world

-You also spent a lot of time with Chan in the recording studio,, especially coming up towards the end of 3rd year as Chan was super stressed about his final composition piece

-You were stressed as well bc you had an important trial coming up right at the end,,, and whilst you were stressed, you knew you were going to be okay bc you had studied all your materials for a while

-Seeing Chan screw up his 100th piece of paper one night whilst you were studying at his dorm, you put your notes down and went over to his desk where he was sat with his head in his hands

-You soothingly rubbed his shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into his ears

-Without warning, he spun around in his chair and you realised his eyes were glazed over hazily

-His hands rested on your waist, and you instinctively melted into his touch

-Your lips met and before you knew it, he had picked you up and placed you onto his bed, lips grazing over your jawline and neck in butterfly kisses occasionally stopping to leave a mark on your neck

-Well,,, one thing led to another and u were just glad Felix hadn’t come back as you snuggled up to Chan, hand resting over his chest

-Felix came back the next day, throwing Chan’s t-shirt at him before walking straight back out

-You were very confused, burying deeper into the sheets as Chan pulled you closer pressing a kiss to your forehead

-You and Chan were honestly the campus sweethearts, you weren’t always together but you bet your chemistry notes that he would leave a sticky note on your file before you went to a mock trial

- Chan found you extremely attractive in your suit and you were nearly late the morning of your last mock trial lmao

-You were just very supportive of each other as well as your friends

-Like you never failed to turn up to Felix’s musicals together, even after you had both graduated

-Chan accompanied you to Sana, Mina and Momo’s dance recitals and you went to all of Seungmin’s baseball games even if he wasn’t playing

-You became known as the campus parents tbh

-Just a very wholesome couple

-When the two of you, along with Woojin, and a few others graduated that year, you bet that your friendship group all turned up and had massive banners with your names on, hollering when you got called up

-They also threw a massive party at the pub that 3racha frequented (the owner let them rent it out for free) and you all ended up crying by the end of the day, you comforting a sobbing Jeongin whilst Chan was hugging Felix

-Oh,,, after you graduated Chan took you to Australia to meet his family for the summer before you started your internship and he took aesthetic photos of you all the time

-You literally had to wrestle his phone out of his hand before you got spammed by the 8 boys who kept getting these photos of you sent in their gc

-Ugh you’re just two extremely loving parents of about 17 kids and you wouldn’t change it for the world, you thought that last day altogether at bar

ahhh wow thank you again for 100 followers and next up on the college aus is.... *drum rolls* WOOJIN

[seven-whole-cuties]

Dumb Dances and a Bruised Hip

Reader x Kim Yugyeom

warnings - nothing just utter fluff

Summary -  Showing off “your” moves doesn't always end well, but it could lead to great things

As I stood at the back of my car I counted each container making sure there was eight. All of them looked pretty much similar except for the little sticker marking each one differently just so that boys felt that they each had something a little personal.  I had grown close to these boys over the years ever since I had gotten back in touch with Jackson.  

Before I had come to Korea I used to fence with Jackson, trying my best to get out in the world and be a part of something bigger. Jackson and I spent a lot of time together because he was my trainer and in turn friend. We got very close but it all stopped when he moved to Korea to join his now group GOT7 and I supported his decision fully. We kept in contact exchanging a few words now and then but as soon as I moved to Korea because of a job opportunity Jackson took me under his wing and with that so did the rest of GOT7. Though it had only been two years I felt that I knew everyone well. 

I was always down to read a novel with Jinyoung there was lowkey a book club going on between the two of you, talk with Jaebum about new music he was listening to, play with coco and Youngjae, play Overwatch with Mark, there was never not a competition going on between me and Jackson, and lastly, I was always pulling slight pranks or just dabbing with BamBam and Yugyeom.

Yugyeom has quickly grown to be my favorite person though with constant teasing with the older members and his carefree personality. I just felt a connection with him on so many levels. It didn’t help that half the time he was a complete and utter cutie while the other half he was cool and dominat. 

Finally breaking my thoughts, I grab all the containers carefully and head towards the JYP building. Making sure I wasn’t spotted while walking in I had a large black cap pulled with a large hoodie on the hood pulled up over the cap. Also, a pair of sunglasses if anyone took a glance at me they would assume I worked for the building. The main reason I was bringing the boys food is that I knew they were busy with the comeback that was coming out soon and would probably need some sort of nourishment. Another reason is right now Jackson and I are competing over who can be a better friend. I believe this will put me over the top. 

Finally getting to the studio I could feel the bass without even walking into the room. Laughing to myself I realize that there would probably be chaos as soon as I entered the room. Bracing myself I opened the door and peered in moving my sunglasses off my head. 

“Y/N!!” a shout rang out but it was just one voice instead of the regular seven I was used to. There standing by himself with music blaring around him was Yugyeom with the biggest grin on his face. He ran over to me and pulled me into a tight hug causing me to shriek. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” he ranted while pulling back and looking me in the eyes. I smiled up at the giant before me and then I noticed how sweaty he was. 

“Yugyeom! I don’t want to be squished by your sweaty body.” I laughed before walking over to a corner in the room where a couch was located. I didn’t want to get food on the floor where they practiced because that would only lead to a disaster that none of us could really afford. “I brought food for all of you. Where’s the rest of the boys?” I questioned the youngest. He just turned down the music and ran over looking for his container immediately. I smacked his hand away and glared at him considering I liked to eat while everyone is around. It’s like we're a family catching up on each other’s days and such. “I’m not really sure but they probably won’t be back for a while soooo can we eat without them?!” he asked me in excitement.

I sighed and grabbed my phone before even setting anything up. “Let me text Jackson and see what the plans are for everyone and if he doesn’t respond within let’s say ten minutes we can eat. “I say while sticking my hand out to him to form a deal. He smiled cutely and shook my hand while going back over to the sound system. I assumed he planned on dancing more while we waited for Jackson's message. Which wasn’t long considering the boy is always on his phone trying to reach someone. 

Sighing at the exchange between me and Jackson. He knew about the small crush I had on Yugyeom and always seemed to be teasing me about it. I glance up at Yugyeom who I assume was practicing choreography for their comeback soon. “I feel like I shouldn’t be watching this right now.” I laughed as I said it. He just smiled at me in the mirror and kept doing the moves “You’re basically our little sister I don’t think the group would mind if you knew basically two steps of the dance.” As the word came out of his mouth I felt my heart break a little. That’s right little sister and that’s all I ever be to you huh I thought to myself. Shaking my head to get rid of those thoughts I set up the small table so that everything would be ready when the boys come in and the chaos starts. 

As soon as I had everything ready I heard the studio door burst open. Peering over my shoulder I watched them all come in one by one till finally, Jackson came in running over and tackling me instantly. One by one they greeted me while ruffling my hair. Yugyeom wasn’t wrong in his statement that they treated me like a younger sister it’s just with him I wanted to be something more. 

Everyone found their containers and we all fell into a nice groove bouncing back and forth between genuine conversation and picking on one another. Somehow, we had gotten on the topic of dancing more specifically Yugyeom and his hit the stage dance. Jackson and BamBam kept mimicking the moves while laughing causing Yugyeom to blush. I had watched this performance many times and thought I had the moves down. This was my first mistake in a line of many. 

“I bet I can do the choreography or well at least the Chris Brown part.”  Jackson's eyebrow raised as he made eye contact with me while BamBam and Youngjae cheered me on. Yugyeom was just quiet and staring at me with big eyes and I just shrugged while having a slight blush on my cheeks. I stood up from the table and went off to the middle of the studio trying to get into place. 

Jackson had gotten up and gone over to the monitor to set up the song for me. As the first beat dropped I ripped my jacket off and threw it behind me. This one motion causing a lot hollers to ring out around me. I moved to the next step just preparing for the grind on me move in which I had not practiced a lot so I was nervous about. I came down and prepared to go into the grind on me but midair something happened with my hip and leg causing me to fall to the floor in pain. Laughs rang out in the room but quickly stopped once they noticed me tearing up because of the pain. 

Yugyeom was one of the first ones to run over to me though it seemed as if he didn’t really know what to do. I tried to stand up off the floor and cried out in pain. I couldn’t lift my right leg higher than an inch and seeing this Yugyeom leaned down and picked me up. He carried me over to the sofa and sat me down on top of it. The rest of the boys crowded around us trying to make sure I was alright. It wasn’t long before they had all walked off claiming they had stuff to do leaving me and Yugyeom alone in the room.

“Yuggie I’m okay really. I’m sure it’s just a pulled muscle or something.” I tried my best to smile up at him. He sat down on the couch next to me pulling my leg into his lap. “I know but I’m just worried about you. Next time ask me for help with the dance instead of just doing it by yourself.” He told me quietly while rubbing my leg trying to comfort me. I just rolled my eyes at his words. Feeling as if I had embarrassed myself enough for one day I tried to stand up to gather everything up and leave. Yet before I get very far Yugyeom grabbed my wrist and pulled me down onto his lap. I yelped out not only in shock but in pain as well.  

“Don’t leave just yet I want to spend more time with you. Maybe we can even talk about pranking Mark or Jackson.” He spoke while cuddling me. I giggled and buried my head into his neck. “fine but if we get caught I’m throwing you under the bus.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Not if I throw you under it first.” He said while kissing my forehead. My whole face erupted into a tomato like blush not at all prepared for that. Suddenly, a quiet tension had come across the room.

“You know ever since you and Jackson have gotten back in touch we’ve been eating better and just happier in general.” He said quietly almost as if he was nervous to be talking. I just nodded “I’ve been happier with you guys too…” I trailed off not really knowing where this conversation was going. “Well me especially since you know I like you quite a bit...” this time he trailed off in his words and I was at a loss for words not truly knowing what to say. Before too much time could pass I blurted out “I like you too!” which lead to a bout of giggling to come out of his mouth. Another sweet kiss was pressed against my forehead and for the rest of the day, we spent time together. It didn’t matter to me what we did as long as I was spending time with him.