#but i think its a pretty universal dance kids do

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

just sitting here thinking how sad it is in most dance boys don't get to be dipped and twirled. everyone deserves to be spun around with flourish at least once in their life

[obsessedwithceleste]

The Stages of Grief

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Prompt 5 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge🫶🏽

Summary: They say that when you experience grief, you go through five stages. And after being partnered with Lorenzo Berkshire for your latest potions assignment, rest be assured, you were experiencing all five.

word count: 6.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Denial

“Oh you’re kidding,” you groan as you finally spot your name on the list of assigned pairings for your next potions assignment.

You loved potions; in fact it was one of your favorite classes at Hogwarts, despite its demanding course work. You ironically found its rigid, methodical nature to be quite relaxing as moving step by step through the different recipes seemed to practically be second nature. It was a rhythmic dance that you followed religiously, finding thrill in the ever changing contents of your cauldron.

What you did not love however, or who you did not love to be more precise, was Lorenzo Berkshire. Flirtatious, carefree, and devilishly handsome, you were fairly certain that that boy could chat up a corpse. Or he could if he or his friends ever bothered showing up to class. It’s not that you disliked the boy per se, but to allow him onto your sacred ground? Into your sanctuary? You’d rather not.

Yet, there his name was, scrawled neatly next to yours on the board. It was like the universe had it out for you. Or your professor more likely.

“Tell me I read it wrong,” you complain turning to Daphne who was sat beside you.

The two of you had made an unlikely pairing in second year herbology and been inseparable ever since.

The girl just rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh come on, he’s really not as bad as you make him out be,” she sighs, scribbling notes from the board onto her parchment.

“Maybe not to you, but you’ve known him your whole life,” you grumble.

Personally, you’d always found the boy to be a bit of a prick. He was a pretty boy and he knew it, giving him a rather inflated ego you thought.

“Yeah, so don’t you think I might know him a bit better and perhaps be a better judge of character?” She asks.

“Maybe the professor will let me work alone.”

“Oh honestly, y/n. Look, at least he’s in class today. You’ll be fine, promise. And if he annoys you, even a little, I’ll owl his mother,” Daphne replies, not even bothering to look up from her notes. She was used to your dramatics by now.

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down,” your professor calls out, moving to stand at the front of the room before you can complain any further. “This next assignment will take course over the span of the next month or so, as you will be expected to collect some of your ingredients outside of class. So. Who can tell me a little bit about what this next potion that we’re brewing is?”

Your hand shoots into the air as soon as the question leaves your professor’s lips.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It doesn’t really create love though, but rather infatuation which makes it one of the most dangerous potions in the world,” you recite.

“Yes, yes! Very good, y/n! Five points!”

“Really if it’s so dangerous, I don’t see why they’re teaching a bunch of sixth years how to brew it,” Daphne mumbles to you under her breath.

You let out a snicker. She had a point.

You turn back to the front of the classroom, tuning back into the lesson as your professor begins scratching away on the chalkboard once more.

“The ingredients that you’ll need to gather are as follows. Two ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and rose petals. You’ll have the next two weeks to gather your ingredients with your partners, so I suggest you begin,” your professor announces.

You feel your shoulders wilt at the thought of purposely seeking out Lorenzo, but you can already feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Do you think if I ignore him long enough he’ll get the idea and just go away?” You whisper to your friend.

Daphne just rolls her eyes at you once more, shaking her head.

“Go,” she sighs, giving you a light shove in his direction before moving to join Theodore Nott at a different station.

With one last sigh of despair, you make your way over to the station where Enzo sits waiting for you, silently mourning your potions grade. And your mental and emotional stability.

“Mornin’ love,” he greets giving you a bright lopsided grin as you approach.

“Hi,” you respond dryly with a tight lipped smile.

“So, what’s our game plan going to be, darlin? I reckon we’ll want to get the hardest ingredients to come by first yeah?” He pushes on, ignoring your clear disinterest.

You nod your head in response.

“The peppermint, rose petals and thorns will be easy. We can get all of those in the greenhouse. The pearl dust- I assume we’ll need fresh pearls, we can probably get from the Black Lake.”

“Great. I think I have a moonstone in my ingredient collection. We can crush it down for the powdered moonstone,” Enzo offers.

You raise your brows at this. Moonstone wasn’t necessarily rare by any means, but you weren’t really expecting Enzo to offer up ingredients from his personal collection.

“That would work. We can also find them in the dark forest,” you reply.

“Nah, save us the hassle. Pretty girl like you doesn’t have any business in that musty old forest anyway,” he responds with a charming grin.

Ignoring his comment, you continue on to the last item on the list.

“I’m really not sure where we’re going to find those eggs. I don’t think we can find ashwinders on the school grounds, and they’re quite risky to breed.”

Enzo stares at you blankly.

“Remind me what an ashwinder is again love?” He says sheepishly.

“Magic serpent. Born from the embers of magic flames that are left to burn. You’re a Slytherin, shouldn’t you know all about snakes and such?”

“Yeah, let me recite to you the alphabetical list of all known magical serpent species that us Slytherins actually use as the password to our common room.”

You purse your lips at the boy’s obvious sarcasm.

“Fair enough. Still don’t know how we’ll get the eggs though.”

“I can see if we have any in our stores at the manor. Probably our best bet if we don’t want to risk burning down the school.” Enzo replies.

“Are you sure? We’re already using your moonstone,” you say, beginning to feel a bit bad about raiding the boy for supplies.

“It’s the least I can do really. I’m useless at potions, so least I can do is provide you with the ingredients that we need,” he says honestly with a light laugh.

“Well alright. Shall we meet up on Friday then to collect the pearls?” You ask, scribbling down your plans in your notebook.

“Sounds good, six o’clock? By the dock?”

You nod in agreement.

“Well alright then. See you then, love.” And with a grin and a cheeky wink thrown your way, Enzo is off.

At least he was pulling his weight in gathering ingredients you supposed.

Anger

“Y/n! Are you headed down to the docs?” Daphne asks slightly out of breath as she runs up to you from across the court yard.

“Yeah. Enzo tell you?”

Daphne nods her head in response as you two begin to make the short trek down to the lake.

“Hope you don’t mind if Theo and I join you?”

“Course not. Probably better that I’m not alone with Enzo by the lake anyway. Wouldn’t want him to try and drown me.” You say lightly, only slightly joking.

“Oh piss off. He’s a nice bloke once you get to know him.” Daphne laughs.

As the two of you arrive at the edge of the lake, you can already see Enzo, Theodore, and Mattheo splashing about in the water. Draco and Pansy are watching disdainfully from the shore.

You hadn’t realized this was going to be a whole party.

“Daph, please get these boys under control!” Pansy shouts when she sees the two of you approaching.

“I’m not their mum, they won’t listen to me,” Daphne replies dryly.

“Sure they will. Or at least Theo will, and the other two dimwits will follow whatever he does.” Pansy replies.

“Theodore!” Daphne shouts, turning to the three boys who were waist deep in the water by this point.

“Bella?” He calls back, visibly perking up at the sight of your friend.

You watch with amusement as Daphne points a finger at the boy and then again at the ground next to her. Theo slowly sulks over to the four of you, Mattheo and Enzo following in his wake.

“Really Theodore? You’re sopping wet,” Daphne sighs, only to be met with a sheepish grin.

“Hey love,” Enzo greets, prancing over to stand beside you.

It takes everything in you to focus anywhere but Enzo’s soaking wet shirt as it clung to his chest and abdomen like a second, very see-through skin. Bloody hell.

“Hi Enzo,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure we’ll even find pearls here? I thought pearls were from the ocean, and I don’t want to risk getting wet for nothing,” Draco says, eyeing the lake warily.

“Hogwarts a History says that fresh water pearls are common in the Black Lake,” you reply.

“What’s the difference?”

“Saltwater pearls are generally rarer, more expensive.” Pansy replies easily.

“Fresh water mussels can produce multiple pearls at a time, but oysters generally only produce a single pearl in their entire lifetime,” you explain.

“So how exactly are we going to collect these mussels?” Theo asks.

“Accio.” Daphne responds, as if it should’ve been obvious. Which it was.

Your now rather large group makes it way onto the dock, squinting into the murky water for any trace of mussels in the sand below.

Daphne finds the first one, and after that, they slowly start pouring in. Eventually, there’s a sort of system in place with you, Daphne, Pansy, and Draco scanning the dark waves for the elusive mussels, while Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo crack them open to retrieve the pearls.

It’s all going swimmingly until the boys begin to get rowdy once more, with Mattheo sending a small wave of water at Enzo when his back is turned. Daphne gives the boys several warning glares as the waves gradually grow larger, only for them to start up again the moment your backs are turned.

Eventually it turns into an all out water war between the three of them once more, and you scowl as you feel a splash of water hit your leg.

Could they not cause a ruckus for one afternoon? You thought bitterly as another mussel flew into your hand. You go to place it in the pile with the others when you feel a weight hit you like a ton of bricks. Then cold. Everything is cold as you feel yourself hit the water.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim once your head breaks the surface and you frantically wipe water from your eyes.

You look over to see Lorenzo in the water near you, a grin plastered across his face. His smile quickly fades however when he sees the pure murderous intent in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, swimming over to him, and shoving him under the waves.

“Y/n! You can’t drown him!” Daphne yells from the dock.

“Watch me!”

“It was an accident, swear!” Enzo gasps when his head re-emerges once more.

With one last scream of rage, you make your way to land as Daphne runs to catch up with you.

“Seriously Daphne? What is wrong with him?” You rage as you storm up the hill back to the castle.

“I really don’t think he meant for you to get shoved into the lake. The boys can get pretty tunnel visioned,” Daphne offers as she follows behind.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who went for a swim,” you mutter between chattering teeth, the cold really beginning to sink in.

“Oh I’m not defending him. Not completely I mean. He was totally acting like a right git. The other boys too. I don’t blame you for being upset, I would be too. I’m just saying, maybe don’t be too hard on him? It was an accident after all, and he really did look sorry.”

When you only shrug in response, Daphne sighs.

“Look. Give him one last chance, and if you still think he’s the worst person on earth, at least exploit the fact that he really does feel bad, and milk it for all he’s worth. Okay?”

You let out a smile at this.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin, Daph.”

Bargaining

The following Monday when you take your seat next to Lorenzo in potions, he immediately turns his head, almost like he’s surprised you hadn’t demanded to be reassigned partners.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really didn’t mean for you to end up in the lake, Theo just shoved me and I grabbed on the closest thing which happened to be you. I really am sorry,” he rambles, fiddling with the quill in his hand nervously.

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident, so let’s just move on, alright?” You say with a sigh.

Maybe if the both of you just moved on, this nightmare of a pairing would be over sooner.

“Really?” Lorenzo asks, his bright personality snapping back into place.

“Sure Enzo.”

“Excellent. Because I was able to get us these,” he says proudly, carefully pulling two little eggs and a medium sized moonstone out of his bag. “Oh, and the pearls.” He adds, placing the eggs, stone, and glass container filled with pearls on the table in front of you.

You eye the ingredients carefully before determining that they were in fact all up to standard.

“Perfect. I’ll begin crushing up the pearls, if you take care of the moonstone?” You say, already pouring the shiny orbs into your mortar and pestle.

The two of you work surprisingly well together for the rest of the class period, almost as if you’d been working together for years. It takes you by surprise how easy the brown haired boy is to work with. You hadn’t been expecting much, knowing that potions wasn’t Enzo’s strong suit. But he made up for it by making sure you never wanted for anything. Needed a vial for your pearl dust? It was in your hands before you even had to ask. A fire needed to be lit beneath the ashwinder eggs to keep them from spoiling? Enzo’s wand was pointed in their direction before you had the chance to open your mouth.

As class winds down and you go to make your exit, you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Y/n?” Enzo says, stopping you. You turn to look at the boy.

“Look uh, I know that you’re not my biggest fan, or at least that’s what I gathered from Daph,” he begins to ramble, scratching the back of his neck, “but, could we maybe like, just start over?”

You’re a bit skeptical at first, but seeing his nervous smile melts something in you. Being friendly couldn’t hurt, you reasoned. And it would certainly make working with the boy easier.

“Alright, Enzo, we can start over.”

“Wicked.” He says with a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d like to meet in the greenhouse later then to gather the rest of our ingredients? Promise I won’t drag Theo and Matt along this time.”

“Sounds lovely.”

The both of you agree to meet right after classes are released that day, and as you make your way down the cobblestone path to the greenhouse, you can’t seem to push the memories of wet hair and an infectious smile from your thoughts.

“Hi love!” Enzo calls out as soon as you push open the doors of the greenhouse. The boy is elbows deep in soil, pulling at the roots of a suspiciously pink colored plant.

“How’d you get here so fast?” you ask, glancing at the clock to see that classes had ended not even ten minutes ago.

“Herbology is my last class of the day,” he explains, brushing some of the dirt off his gloves.

“Ah. So you wanted to meet right after classes ended so you wouldn’t have to make the trek back out here?” You ask, fingertips brushing the soft petals of one of the many flowering plants growing within the greenhouse.

“Well, and I wanted to see you again sooner,” he replies with a shrug and a cheeky grin.

You roll you eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up, turning quickly and hoping he hadn’t seen.

“So where are the rose bushes?” You ask, looking around at the distinct lack of roses within the building.

Enzo gives a nervous chuckle. “About that. Apparently Professor Sprout didn’t think that the common rose was, ah, dangerous enough, for her plant collection,” Enzo says, gesturing towards the various plants, “so, uh, there are none. But! We can grow them pretty easily. It might take a week or two to grow a full bush to peak maturity, but it should be fine.”

You let out a sigh. Of course Hogwarts wouldn’t grow something as simple and common as a rose.

“Alright, well. Let’s begin I suppose.”

Enzo immediately perks up as he goes to fetch a large pot and a bag of soil and you begin to rifle through the cabinets to find rose seeds. After several minutes with no success, you feel a warm presence behind you as Enzo leans over your shoulder and plucks a packet off the top shelf.

“You certainly know your way around,” you murmur, looking up to find the boy’s face much closer than anticipated. You feel heat rise to your cheeks once more and you duck under is elbow, making your escape.

“Herbology is my best subject,” Enzo says, trailing behind you.

“Ah, so you’re the Slytherin version of Neville Longbottom then eh?” You say with a grin as you watch him fill the pot with soil.

Enzo grimaces, making a face.

“No, I’m much better looking,” he says with a smirk.

Bloody self-aware bastard.

It only takes a few minutes for Enzo to bury the seeds in the soil and place several incantations over the dirt before he looks up at you with a triumphant grin.

“All good to go,” he says happily. “Though we should probably check back in daily to refresh the enchantments and such.”

You nod your head at the boy.

Over the course of the next few days, Enzo uses your time spent together to pick your brain for any morsel of information he could get out of you. He really was determined to be your friend apparently.

“What’s your favorite plant?” He asks you on the third day of your little meetings.

You tilt your head a bit in consideration.

“No, no, wait, I bet I can guess. Is it peonies? Your perfume is peony scented right?” He asks.

“Yeah, it is. Peony and vanilla,” you say, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“Knew it,” he says, looking rather self satisfied.

“And yours?” You ask, leaning against the table to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your favorite flower? Or plant that is.”

Enzo pauses for a moment, eyes flickering around the greenhouse for a moment before landing on you.

“I like roses.”

“Really?” You say, scrunching your nose a bit.

“I’m a romantic, what can I say?”

“Gross. That’s so cliche.” You tease, a small smile gracing your face.

As the days go on, your time spent in the greenhouse becomes longer and longer as you and Lorenzo banter about the ridiculous questions he’d come up with. Did owls have knees? Which house would win in hand to hand combat? Were Theodore and Daphne secretly hooking up in the fifth floor prefect’s bathroom? (The answer was yes.)

You were shocked to find that, while still a bit of a prat, Enzo really was rather smart and witty. As the days went on, it became easier and easier to open up to the boy until the two of you were talking like old friends.

It happened slowly. You really didn’t even notice at first. But by the second week, you found yourself looking forward to your daily meetings, and found yourself thinking of the handsome brunette when he wasn’t around, and you caught yourself staring at the boy a bit too long after he’d already looked away.

Over the years of being friends with Daph, you’d often been forced into the proximity of the boy. Always noting the way he’d easily move from one witch to the next, his charm never seeming to fail him. You had been so determined to make sure that you would never be one of those witches. Just another tally on Lorenzo’s ever growing list of conquests.

But it had happened. The unimaginable. The impossible. You were falling for Lorenzo Berkshire. No, this simply wouldn’t do you thought to yourself as you made the familiar trek to the greenhouse.

Your mind raced as you thought of ways to stop this madness. Maybe if you went back to pushing the boy away. Or if you just ignored him. Yes. If you just shut him out, these feelings would go away.

Sarcasm

The next several days for Lorenzo were miserable. And that was putting it nicely.

“She hates me!” Enzo wailed dramatically, hanging upside down off the edge of his bed.

It had been three days since your terrifying revelation in the green house, and Enzo was very convinced that he was going insane.

He could still remember clearly the day that Daphne had introduced him to her new friend after one fateful day in herbology. You had been so wicked smart, and kind, and funny, and your smile had melted his heart. He was pretty sure he’d been in love with you ever since. But he was lucky if you even acknowledged his presence most days.

“Can you blame her? Didn’t you send a flock of peacocks after her when we were all visiting Draco’s last year?” Mattheo asks, squinting at his friend.

“I thought it’d be romantic! How was I supposed to know they weren’t friendly?”

“There’s also that time in third year, you knocked her off her broom playing quidditch.” Draco adds, scowling at the memory of Enzo harassing the birds on his family’s property.

“I caught her after!” Enzo protests.

“She still sprained her wrist.”

“Oh yea. And then you tried to give her a kiss as an apology, but ended up with a nice bruise on your jaw instead,” Mattheo laughs.

Lorenzo wasn't going to lie, that was a particular sore spot for him.

“And let’s of course not forget the most recent offense. Trying to drown her in the lake. Thank Salazar I wasn’t there for that scene.” Blaise mutters.

Enzo winces.

After the incident at the lake, Enzo was sure he was done for. The look of pure rage in your eyes had felt as though you had stomped on his heart, and then cruciod it for good measure. But then you had accepted his apology and even agreed to start things over. Enzo had felt the first real burst of hope after four pitiful years of pining.

Sure he’d made some missteps over the years. As his friends so graciously enjoyed reminding him, but he meant well!

The two of you had talked. Laughed. He’d even allowed his hand to brush up against yours a time or two, delighted when you didn’t flinch away.

And then, as if the switch had flipped, it was back how it had been before. Enzo felt like he had whiplash with the way you had turned right back around to treating him like a total stranger.

Theo eyed his roommate with concern.

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than you pining over Daphne,” Mattheo mutters, jabbing an elbow into Theo’s rib cage, earning him a sharp glare.

“I don’t understand! Things were going so well! She was actually talking to me and everything, and now it’s like I’m right back at square one,” Enzo sighs, ignoring his bickering roommates.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from us mate. You’re supposed to be the romantic one of the group. Though with your track record, I’m not sure why we’ve been taking your advice all these years. You’re a wreck.” Blaise says, matter of factly.

“You tried talking to Daph bout it?” Theo asks, not quite sure how to help his slightly delirious friend.

“Ask me about what?” Daphne asks, seemingly materializing in the doorway of the boys’ shared dormitory.

She makes her way into the room, face morphing into one of both concern and disgust as she takes in Enzo's distraught state.

Theo eyes his friend, as if to say “good luck mate.”

Dragging himself into an upright position, Enzo considers the girl in front of him. How had he not thought of it before? Y/n’s best friend had been at his disposal this entire time, and he’d never thought to simply ask her.

Lorenzo turns to look at Daphne.

“Daph?”

“Yes Enz?”

“Does y/n fancy anyone?” He asks, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible.

Daphne raises a brow.

“If you’re trying to subtly ask if I happened to know of her feelings towards you, you’re doing a lousy job."

Enzo pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and honestly looking quite pathetic.

"For Salazar's sake, what happened?" Daphne huffs, making herself comfortable on Theo's bed, much to his delight.

“Enzo is down bad. Obviously.” Mattheo states.

Daphne shoots the boy a glare, rolling her eyes at the curly haired boy.

"We've been working in the green house together, and I thought things were going so well. She was talking to me, and laughing and everything.” Enzo says, falling back into his bed dramatically.

“Well then what’s the problem? You like her I thought.” Daphne replies with an annoyed huff.

“That’s just it isn’t it? It wasn’t a problem. But then suddenly, a few days ago, she went completely cold again. Like the last couple weeks never happened." he laments.

Daphne opens her mouth. Then closes it, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. For the love of- she loved you. Truly she did. But you were going to be the end of her.

“I’ll take care of this.” She announces, promptly rising from the bed just as Theo was about to sneak an arm around her.

He glowers at Enzo who gives him an apologetic grin.

Daphne had been your best friend for years at this point, and most of the time, she was convinced that she knew you better than you knew yourself. She wasn't blind. Or dumb for that matter. She knew that there were some strong feelings between you and Enzo, though she had never really bothered to figure out if they were positive or negative. Clearly she should've and all of this could have been avoided she thought wistfully to herself. At least this explained the strange tension between the two of you as of late.

“Y/n.” Daphne huffs, sitting next to you on a bench in the court yard.

“Daph,” you greet, looking up from your book.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you fancy Lorenzo?” She asks, staring you dead in the eye.

You feel your mouth gape like a fish out of water.

“Right Daph. Like I’d ever fancy that peacock.” You reply, doing your best to appear disdainful.

“Don’t you get an attitude with me.” Daphne responds. She’d always been able to see right through you. “Enzo told me everything. The chatting. The giggling. The immediate turn around as if nothing had happened. Textbook case of realizing you like someone while being emotionally constipated!” Daphne announces.

“Shhh!” You hush your friend, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the scene. “You know that being mean and sarcastic is my only defense mechanism!” You hiss.

“Oh honestly y/n. We both know you won't be able to use that excuse forever.” Daphne says with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides, he likes you too. Why do you think he’s always preening when you’re around. He’s trying to impress you, you dolt.”

“Fantastic. He’s only a prat when I’m around. How romantic,” you mutter.

“Well you certainly didn’t think he was being a prat when you were spending all that time in the green house together. Don’t think I didn’t notice you two disappearing for several hours. No one is spending that much time every day looking at flowers.”

“We were just talking,” you defend.

“Mmhm. And then you stopped talking because you got scared and now Enzo is a wreck.”

You feel a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant to hurt Enzo. You hadn’t thought that he actually might like you too.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow in class, I guess,” you mutter.

Daphne sighs.

“Look. I’m not saying that you have to date him, or even tell him you like him. But you’re both my friends, and I don’t like seeing either of you upset.”

“I know Daph. I’m just confused is all. I thought I hated him.”

“Well, I’ve always been told that the line between love and hate is fine.” Daphne replies.

Bloody hell, when had your friend become this philosophic?

“I’ll get it sorted tomorrow. Promise.” You tell her.

Daphne nods, giving you a comforting smile.

“Good. And word of advice. Drop the sarcasm, Enz might cry if you put him through anymore emotional whiplash.”

Acceptance

You sat nervously in the potions classroom having arrived close to fifteen minutes early as you couldn’t shake away your nerves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, your classmates should start filing in at any moment.

You’d finally managed to gather all the need ingredients for your potion, so today would be the day that you and Enzo would be able to brew your amortentia.

Your fingers twirled the stems of the roses you’d collected mindlessly as your thoughts buzzed between your conversation yesterday with Daphne, and the fluffy haired brunette boy that had taken up permanent residency in your every thought.

Remembering the silly game one of your roommates had played years ago, you began plucking the rose petals off of the stem, one by one. You were going to have to do it eventually anyway. He loves me, he loves me not, the phrase repeats in your mind.

“Look nervous,” A voice comments from behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts, you look up just in time to see Enzo take his seat beside you.

Clearing your throat, you give the boy a small smile.

“Just thinking about the potion. Not going to be an easy one to brew today, and I’d like to get a good mark,” you reply.

“Of course.” Enzo replies, a strained look on his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time then.”

You open your mouth to reply, but close it again when no words come to mind. Instead, you opt to sweep your rose petals into a small pile and begin shaving off the rose thorns as Enzo wordlessly takes out the gold cauldron, lighting a fire beneath.

“So,” you say awkwardly, the deafening silence finally getting to you. “How bout that weather?”

You hear a clatter as Enzo drops pestle he was holding to look at you incredulously.

“I know some of my conversation attempts were bad, but that was downright criminal.” He says with a snort.

Unable to hold back your laughter, you let out a giggle. “Yeah, I’ll see myself to Azkaban for that one.”

And just like that, the two of you fall back into your comfortable rhythm of idle chatter, jokes, bickering as you work seamlessly together.

You can’t help but watch with silent admiration as Enzo dutifully stirs the cauldron, careful to keep even counter clockwise strokes. A few tendrils of soft brown hair fall in front of the boy’s face and he gently blows them to the side with an annoyed puff.

“Pearl dust?” He asks, reaching his hand out.

As you hand him the vial, your fingertips brush softly, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. The heat from the cauldron must be really getting to you.

“If you just want to add the powdered moonstone, we should be all done,” Enzo says after a moment, taking a step back to allow you to complete the final step.

Slowly, you approach the boiling cauldron, carefully sprinkling in your meticulously measured moonstone powder. You stir the concoction a bit longer until you see a familiar pearlescent sheen and swirling tendrils of steam.

“Think we’ve done it,” you say with a smile, looking over at your partner.

He grins back, joining you in leaning over the steaming cauldron.

“Well? What do you smell?” He asks cheekily.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“We both take a wiff? On three?” Enzo asks.

You nod in agreement, watching the swirling colors within the cauldron. They say that amortentia smells like the things you’re most attracted to, and you’d always been curious what scents the potion would elicit for you.

“One, two, three.”

You lean in, and immediately you’re hit with the earthy scent of fresh soil, a soft hint of rose, and something else- oh. Oh. You feel your eyes widen.

“Peony. And vanilla.” Enzo murmurs, head still hovering above the cauldron before he turns to look at you.

The moment your eyes meet, you both know.

“I need a moment,” you mumble, hurrying out of the classroom.

As you rush past Daphne’s table, you hear the girl run after you into the corridor.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Daphne asks as the two of you come to a stop in a small alcove that’s somewhat hidden behind one of the many large stone statues that decorate the halls.

“It’s Lorenzo. My potion- it smells like Lorenzo. Or, it smells like fresh soil, and roses, and that stupid expensive cologne that he always wears,” you gasp, out of breath.

“Oh? And what did he smell?”

“Me. My perfume. Peonies and vanilla.”

“Well, that’s good then isn’t it? That you both smelled each other? I know when we talked yesterday I said you don’t necessarily have to tell the boy you fancy him, but, if you both really like each other that much. What’s the harm?” Daphne tries to reason.

“I don’t know! I just didn’t realize I liked him that much and it freaked me out. And I’ve been icing him out these past couple days, so he’s probably so cross with me. But he’s been so nice today, I don’t know what to do Daph. I’m not good with feelings. I was never going to act on anything!”

“Is that why you did all that? Back there?” A voice asks. “And why you’ve been acting strange the past several days?”

The two of you whip around to see Enzo staring wide eyed at the both of you, mouth slightly agape.

“I think I’d best let the two of you sort this out,” Daphne says, slipping out of the alcove and back into the classroom.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t meant to hear any of that,” you start as Enzo wordlessly approaches.

“You like me?” He asks once he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He looks genuinely surprised at the notion as he stares down at you intensely.

You nod slowly. “Smelled you in that bloody potion,” you mumble.

Enzo’s smile falls.

“Is it that bad? Liking me?” He asks, hurt written across his face.

“No! No it’s not! I just thought I didn’t like you- no, that’s not what I meant. I was surprised that I fancied you is all, and didn’t know what to do. Because we’ve know each other so long, and we haven’t necessarily always gotten along. And I didn’t really realize I liked you at first, and I got all freaked out and then I panicked, and-“

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” Enzo asks, interrupting your rambling.

You freeze, looking up at the boy in front of you.

“Yes please,” you murmur.

Without wasting another moment, Enzo’s lips meet yours with a hunger and passion you didn’t realize the boy had in him.

Any last trace of doubt or worry you had disappears as his soft lips move against yours, melting you into him like putty in his hands.

Right as you’re about to run out of air, you feel Enzo’s lips trail off to your cheek, placing gentle kisses as he trails down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“Enz,” you mumble softly as you feel the warm, sucking sensation against your skin in the crook of your neck.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips meeting yours once more.

You feel yourself getting lost in the sensation as he moves against you until Daphne’s voice brings you back to reality once more.

“Just so you’re both aware, we are still in class,” she calls from around the corner.

You feel your cheeks heat up as Enzo lets out a soft laugh above you.

“Rest assured love, we will be coming back to this later,” he says before placing a kiss on your forehead and leading you back into the classroom.

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’ll take any excuse to write a cheesy amortentia fic🤪

Special thanks to @finalgirllx and @pizzaapeteer for editing and rvwing🫶🏽

[ofjunemoment]

let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters? 

 OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills. 

 pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader 

 genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn 

 wc — 22k (😀 huh)

content — university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst,  idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags — making out, fingering, switch!jisung and reader (there's no strong dynamic tbh), protected sex, pet names (jisung gets called a good boy), lmk if I missed anything!

 a/n — YAYYY i can finally share this with u guys!! i have been cooking this for some time and im actually so excited to release it!! I'm a badminton enthusiast so I went a bit ham on the descriptions and back story sorry (not rlly),, I hope this is a good readdd I read through it so much to fix it up and now Im a bit sick of it oops BUT its a story I've been wanting to write so here you go <3 enjoy!

sfw version here!

You enjoy sports. 

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport  — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face? 

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand. 

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.” He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,”  You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg. 

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?” You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield. 

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times. 

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful. 

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class. 

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin. 

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t. 

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from. 

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped. 

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket. 

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.” 

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow. 

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves. 

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following. 

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly. 

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple. 

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green. 

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both. 

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night. 

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes. 

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break. 

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name. 

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class. 

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,” 

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving. 

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist. 

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag. 

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead. 

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag. 

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process. 

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot? 

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently. 

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more. 

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.” 

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit. 

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?” 

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side. 

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation. 

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton. 

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . .  a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation. 

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead. 

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time. 

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue. 

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack. 

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face. 

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie. 

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you. 

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?” 

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, catching a few veins adorning his forearm. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit. 

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date? 

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm. 

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness. 

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups. 

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment. 

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung grunts every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. His quick movements allow for his loose clothing today to move around freely, exposing toned skin every now and then. It takes a lot of your willpower to have you not to drool right then and there, as if you were back in high school once more.

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play. 

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You can’t help it this time when your gaze follows towards the gap in the collar of his shirt, showing the sharp cut of his collarbone peeking through. It’s when your gaze is caught on his chain necklace dangling from his neck that the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here. 

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place. 

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?” 

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead. 

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?” 

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner. 

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left. 

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time 

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me 

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey 

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: okay i wont 😁

you: good boy

jwisung: …

you: ?

you: oh! 

jwisung: no

you: ill remember this too 😋

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps. 

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat and panting sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure. 

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung falls a bit quiet at your words, as you visibly see him suddenly deep in thought. Before you get to question it, he beats you to it by straightening up and looking directly at you with an idea in mind.

“Why don’t you come to mine?” You blanch at his words but aren’t allowed to react more than that as he continues. “I live really close, and you can just use the shower before heading out. You have your stuff with you and I need a rinse too.” He points at your bag behind you, making you flush and subconsciously move to cover up your efforts. His idea doesn’t seem too bad, and you think this could be another excuse for you to make up to him. Let’s go out one more time because I used up all your hot water. Couldn’t think of a better idea. 

With a nod and a smile, you’re quickly guided out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

Jisung’s apartment really wasn’t far at all, as you arrive at the complex within a five-minute walk from the sports grounds. Living in a two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, who Jisungs said to have gone home this winter season, the place looks relatively clean with the effort of one person living in the area. He directs you to his room, where you place your bags and pick up your clothes before he points towards the bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and soap, they’re both in some type of white bottle. Don’t use the blue ones because they’re my roommates’ and he has a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” You salute him and shuffle to the bathroom, trying your best to be as quick as possible to not leave him waiting and to not actually use up all his hot water. The bathroom was just slightly messy, with towels stacked on one another in a haphazard manner and shaving bottle caps abandoned and soap remnants staining the sink, you feel warm with the idea of getting to see this side of Jisung. A university student trying his best, not some badminton prodigy.

Rinsing your body one last time, you close the water tap and open the glass door of the shower, reaching out your hand blindly to retrieve your towel. After a few seconds of mindlessly flinging your arm and only coming back with a bang of your knuckle against the metal towel holder, you don’t really recall pulling out the towel from your bag, much less hanging it anywhere near the bathroom.

“Oh my god, why today?” The cold of the world outside the shower cubicle washes shivers over you as you open the door wide enough to fit your head around, scanning to see if there’s any alternative you can use instead. All you’re met with is bundles of toilet paper rolls stacked on top of one another and used toilet paper rolls dumped into a basket haphazardly. Your panic settles a bit quicker as your mind blanks from solutions, but not before a knock is heard through the door with your name being called.

“Yes?” You hide the waver in your voice as best as you can, closing the glass door just a bit more.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung’s voice rumbles through the door. Your hand flies to your body, suddenly feeling exposed with the reminder of Jisung’s presence. Slipping back into the shower, you raise your voice as much as you can to be heard through the door; “Yup! Everything’s fine. Just . . .” It’s just I’m dripping and naked in your house and the only remedy is a towel, which I don’t have.

“I noticed you forgot your towel,” The muffle of his voice cuts you out of your trance, “I can give it to you— I mean of course I won’t look! I can just— maybe I’ll stick my hand in?” You laugh slightly at the fact that he’s just as flustered as you, before replying with an agreement. 

As he opens the door with the smallest gap to fit the towel and then his wrist, the cold air of the outside reminds you again of your stark nakedness, one hand going across your chest as you reach your other to grab at the towel. With a skim of your wet fingers against his warm and dry ones, you retrieve your towel with a shy thanks, as Jisung quickly goes to close the door.

While getting ready as quickly as you could in the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were supposed to face Jisung after that whole incident. You couldn’t think if it was better to joke about it and get it over with or forget about it and have to come back one day for some form of closure. You hoped there was no need for closure.

But before your overthinking could get to you, Jisung regarded you like he would any other day when you stepped out of his bathroom — with a shy look and awkward hands — and you immediately relax, shoulders slumping as you go up to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jisung’s eyes flit towards it, but not for long before he opens the door and lets you lead the way.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.” 

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench. 

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.” 

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer. 

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors. 

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy;  but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still water. 

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek. 

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream. 

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, from the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks to the push of his body towards you, wanting to get closer with each passing second. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair. 

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

Your pinkies are linked as you walk along the river, basking in each other's presence as you talk, shoulders brushing every now and then. It’s when you’re both childishly debating about who had fallen first when Jisung suddenly points his finger at you accusingly.

“Is that why you forgot your towel?” His question comes out more genuine than anything, as he tilts his head quickly in thought. With a light gasp, you smack at his shoulder before your arm falls back and crosses on your shoulders, scandalised. “I didn’t!”

“Was that how you were gonna seduce me? By forgetting your towel and having me bring it to you? What was next, you wanted me to lotion your legs for you too?” You can tell he’s teasing this time around, as his tongue pokes at his cheek ever so slightly to withhold the grin that was blooming across his features.

You point your finger at him, catching on. “You probably distracted me with your whole ‘which bottle of shampoo’ debacle just to make me forget it.” Poking at his chest with eyes squinted in suspicion, “You wanted to see me naked on the first date? That’s not very decorum of you.”

Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes at your accusation, shoulders squaring to better defend himself. “I don’t need to go through all of that just to get to you,” He throws you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, a rush of giddiness washing over him with the look of your flustered expression.

“You’re right,” This time, you’re looking at his lips as you say this, catching Jisung off-guard with your compliance. Moving closer, you rest your hands on his arms, pushing yourself up and closer to his body, chests brushing. Your voice, barely above a whisper, brushes against his ear, “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get to me, baby.” 

You know the smile on your face is menacing if Jisung’s gaze on you is anything to go by, partly annoyed and part timid. Ghosting one of your hands down his arm, you slip your fingers in between his and give them a squeeze, giggling as you swing your arm back a forth a bit like a school couple.

Jisung’s next sentence takes a bit of effort to say if his demeanour is anything to go by. With his gaze settled on your intertwined hands and a slightly open mouth— as if to say something, you give his hand another gentle squeeze to encourage him. 

The gleam in his eyes looks more assured as he straightens his posture and looks directly into your eyes, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Leaning in, you give another peck on his cheek, his scent pleasantly wafting through your nose. “I’d love to,”

You can feel the tension grow with the sound of the door closing and sounding its locking chime, toeing off your shoes as you look up at Jisung. He reaches out a hand towards you once you straighten up, pulling you close and guiding you towards the door of his bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, Jisung’s room is clean but still spotted with signs of use, with his desk having papers and laptop wires strewn around while a plethora of empty hangers are placed at the foot of his closet. As he sits on the bed, with his hand still holding yours, he tugs you forward, his free hand going to your thigh, clasping above your knee. 

His eyes glisten as he looks up at you, “This okay?” his touch ghosts on you as he asks this. You nod your head, wanting him to touch you, needing him to touch you more. His fingers grow bolder and heavier in weight, as his hand clasps at the back of your thigh, bending your leg and resting it next to his thigh. Understanding his movements, you follow suit, settling yourself on his thighs with your linked hands resting on his stomach. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against you, easing in with feathery light touches. The slot of your mouths against each other starts a small fire in your stomach, as you push yourself onto him more, needing him to know that you crave more. 

He sighs against your lips as you settle down more, the pressure not far from where he wants it the most. He kisses you feverishly, the smack of your lips growing louder with each plant of his lips. His touches grow heavier as his fingers go from grazing against your knees to tracing lines up your thighs, barely a touch away from settling under the seem of your skirt. Knitting your fingers in his hair, his hand flies to your love handles, squeezing them in an attempt to ground himself. A sigh leaves his lips when you separate just the slightest bit, taking a breather as you kiss the corner of his lips, hands falling from the ends of his hair down to his collarbones and at the bottom of his shirt. Your spread your fingers on the skin of his stomach, nails skimming ever so slightly making Jisung’s breath hitch, his stomach tensing under your touch, eyes still closed as he takes in your touch, his stomach knotting from finally being able to do this with you.

With his grip already tight on your waist, he maneuvers you off his lap and sits you on his bed, crawling between your legs, making you open them and welcome him in as you lie down on his bed. He kisses you again, his hands now staking claim everywhere he can, pushing your shirt up to your ribs, fingers grazing against your bud form under your bra before he brings his hands down and kneads at your thighs.

“Jisung,” You sigh when he swipes his tongue against your lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth, humming against it at your call, its vibration sending hot waves down your body. His touches on your body take you higher, but you need more.

And so you say just as much, “More, give me more.”

“Fuck,” He sighs against your lip, “Yeah? Okay, I’ll give you more, anything for you,” Pressing one last peck against your lip, you see his body slide down your figure, his fingers going to unhook your bra as you arch your back. He groans at the sight of your breasts free from your bra. “I love your tits, so much,”  His hands are big against you, but they fit perfectly against the cup of your breasts, squeezing them together as he smothers himself against your cleavage. He licks a stripe of each bud, before focusing on your left one with his mouth, tongue lapping around the swell as he sucks, opting to circle his fingers on your other tit before pinching it harshly, making you keen against him.

You rake your fingers in his hair, petting him. “Such a good boy, you make me feel so good,” Your words make him whine against your breast, making his hip stutter against the mattress,  for some sort of friction. He releases one hand from cupping your breasts, opting to use one hand while his now free hand dances its way down your torso, unzipping your skirt and taking it off, before meeting the seam of your panties. With his pointer finger, he hovers a line ever so slightly on your slit, eyes wide as he glances at the pleasure breaking out on your face and the wetness of your underwear spreading.

He keeps his touch light, drawing circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear, frustrating you. You huff when he uses the point of his fingers and presses the slightest amount into your hole, the fabric refraining you from feeling his direct touch. You pull at his hair that’s winded through your fingers, urging him on; he moans at the pull, getting the memo once he looks up at your face with an eye squeezed closed from pain or pleasure. Or both.

He licks at your entrance briefly through your panties, the heat and wetness making you moan, before his fingers finally fit themselves into the seam, sliding them down your legs. You feel more than see his gaze on your core, hooded eyes watching it squeeze around nothing as his fingers tease around it. He comes back up to you and presses his lips against yours, lips slotting together briefly before you feel his thumb rub against your sensitive nub, his middle finger prodding at your hole, eyes watching your face as he pushes the pad of his finger against you. You keen when his finger fills you, as he pushes his finger back and forth, his thumb following by pressing into your clit and pulling away rhythmically. He brings his head against your neck, licking a stripe against you before his teeth catch on your skin, lips wrapping themselves around you straight after, sucking into you before parting and finding another part of your skin to taint. He quickens his pace with his one finger, but it’s not enough, you can barely get enough of him.

Hugging his head that’s still tucked at your neck, you scratch at his scalp soothingly before pulling at strands of his hair. “Jisung,” You pant, “Another one, fill me up, please,”

“You want more?” He bites at your jaw lightly, before he pecks your lips lovingly, as if he isn’t trying to have you come undone with his fingers alone. You nod your head, “Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You beg as your cup the side of his face, your eyes looking at his blown-out pupils, probably no different than yours.

Jisung gronas at your words. “You’ve been so good, such a good girl.” He pulls his finger out so just the tip of it hangs onto your gaping hole, before he joins in another finger, two fingers now filling you. You whimper out a thank you, hands clutching at his shoulders as he picks up the pace, hand now slapping against your cunt, fingers curling inside your sopping pussy. Your body feels like it’s floating and coiling into itself all at once, with Jisung’s unrelenting fingers contrasting his gentle pecks and scrape of teeth against your skin. Every few thrusts and squeeze against his fingers have his hips grind down, sometimes grazing against your leg, making you feel his hard-on.

You bring your hand down from his shoulder, curling it at the bottom of his shirt before tugging at it, mumbling the word off. He pulls back slightly and pulls his shirt off with his free hand while you help with getting it over his head. You scratch your nails against the lines of his stomach, eliciting a hiss out of his before you palm at the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You listen so well, don't you? Always doing your best,” You pant out, testing the waters as you tuck the tips of your finger under his waistband. His moan comes out higher in pitch with your words, hips jutting forward and into your touch.

“Good for you,” he breathes against your cheek, eyes squeezed shut at the brush of your fingers against his clothed cock, muttering another fuck under his breath, rutting into your palm for more. 

You’re losing your patience, as Jisung speeds up his hand even more, the pleasure bordering with pain from his pace and harsher bites Jisung plants on you, too far gone with pleasuring you to be mindful of his strength. 

You can feel your orgasm reaching, breath hitching and your stomachs coil tightening further and further. You wrap your hand around Jisung’s wrist, slowing him down slowly before prodding them out of you. You whine at the emptiness briefly but are soothed when Jisung plants wet kisses against your collarbone. You push yourself up onto your shoulders, making Jisung shuffle back slightly in order to not lose touch with you, Reaching over, you dig through your bag and pull out a condom, shaking it between your bodies to bring Jisung’s attention to it.

The sound of the plastic wrapper catches his gaze, “You’re gonna let me put it in?” He grabs the packet from your hand before gently pushing you back down. He kisses you again, seeming to not get enough, as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, his tip smacking against the soft lines of his stomach and leaving a glisten. The rip of the packet sounds before he rolls it on, and you shift closer when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your pussy.

The sheets ruffle around you as Jisung comes down and places a kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes. “Ready?” He asks, and with a nod of your head, you feel him slowly ease himself into you. The stretch feels amazing, as you both moan into each other mouths, your hands squeezing and wandering everywhere around Jisung’s shoulders, back, torso. 

Jisung sighs, “Fuck,” His grip on your waist tightens, the pressure turning you on even more, squeezing around his cock. “You feel so good, so tight,”

“Fuck, Jisung,” You groan out as he quickens his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your skin picking up. “Fuck, you’re doing so well. Stretching me out so good,” Jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the pulse of your pussy around his member. He looks back down, wanting to see the join of your bodies, pulling out till his tip, before ramming himself back in, losing himself to the blissful feeling.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Jisung, I’m close—” You’re cut off by your own moan as Jisung starts rubbing at your clit again, building a rhythm to his thrusts into you. 

“Yeah? Fuck, let go baby,” He grunts as he bends down, his cock twitching inside of you as he kisses your lips before tucking his head back into your neck, lapping at your skin as he keeps up his speed with his fingers on your clit and his thrusts inside you. Your body curls up as your orgasm crashes into you, hands hugging at Jisung’s shoulders tighter as your thighs squeeze around his hips, keeping him in your pulsing core. Panting, you release your grip from his hip, bringing your leg down and patting Jisung’s head, wanting to kiss him again. 

As he pulls away from you, you lean up and plant a kiss on his lips, chest bursting with the affection you feel while coming down. Jisung pulls his cock out from you, going slow as to not overwhelm you. He pulls off his condom, not having cum yet as his cock smacks against his stomach, the precum from the tip joining the light sheen of sweat covering his body. He fists his hand around his cock, tugging and pumping himself to a finish. You’re too spent to give him a helping hand, but you decide you haven’t spent your mouth enough.

“Pretty boy, you’re doing so well,” He hunches over your body at your words. “Looks so good fisting your own cock like that,”

“Fuck,” He groans, “If you keep going I’m gonna—”

“Cum baby, make a mess on me,” You run your hand up his thigh, before pulling up and grabbing at his hair and combing through the strands. His moan comes out high pitched as his hips stutter into his fist, before a spurt of come shoots out and lands on your stomach. He twists his fist around the head of his cock as he milks it out, before heaving a sigh and slumping down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before he lies by your side, cupping his body into yours. You continue running your hand in his hair as he settles on your shoulder, his cheek poking out which makes you poke at it. A giggle is shared as the giddiness of you two being together in the moment settles in, and when you go to place a kiss at his forehead, you’re reminded of the wetness of sweat all over your body and the slowly drying cum on your stomach.

“Oh, let me go get something,” He gets up and goes to his bathroom, coming back with a few paper towels and a wet cloth. Rubbing down your spent body, he pats you dry with the paper towel before putting them away and plopping down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and tucking himself close.

“I didn’t know you were the cuddly type,” You say as you hug at his shoulders, hands rubbing up and down as a faux massage.

“Well, I mean, I can let go?” Jisung’s nervous front grows again, as he goes to put some distance between the two of you. But before he could get far, you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder as you hook your leg around his, stopping him from pulling away.

“I never said it was bad; I like this girlfriend bonus.” Jisung’s hair bounces as he pops his head up to look at you.

“Girlfriend bonus? Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Only if you agree to my boyfriend bonuses,” You shrug. He laughs as he places his head back on your shoulder. “What are these so-called ‘boyfriend bonuses’ of yours?” You tap at your chin mockingly as you think.

“You can fuck my boobs next time?” You shrug again. His head whips up faster this time ‘round.

“Are you serious? Don’t joke about it, because if you are I won’t be—” You smack your hands on his cheeks, squeezing his lips into a pout. His shoulders slump at your attempt of shutting him up, eyebrows drooping as he gazes at you, making you laugh at his expression as you squish his cheeks repeatedly.

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills. 

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you. 

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.” 

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!” 

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time. 

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly. 

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows. 

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

if you liked this, dont be afraid to tell me !

[dxscxndxnts]

My Thoughts on Descendants Canon

I was thinking about it and wanted to share. I’ve noticed everyone from screenwriters to this fandom over the years has brought a LOT to the canon (including me) and this last movie…kinda doesn’t fit that canon.

We’ve always perceived these characters to be continuations of the OG Disney Movies. Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Beauty and the Beast, etc all happened as they did in their animated movies and the next thing was Descendants. It’s likely Descendants Canon doesn’t even consider sequels (Little Mermaid 2, Cinderella 2 and 3, etc)

Now, lots of us (myself included) do nitpick some other Disney canons for fanfiction or theory purposes. For example, I roll with The Little Mermaid: The Musical Canon that Triton and Ursula and Poseidon’s kids. Someone can correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure that’s never mentioned in the OG cartoon movie. Another example I’ve seen is folks accepting Maleficent (2014) as canon, which led to a lot of King Stephen is Mal’s father theories. Also, Greek Mythology? We all love discussing the complexities of D3 Hades being…D3 Hades.

Then there’s the books, by my guess written retroactively to the movies. I love them, I love the depth De La Cruz gives to this world. Unfortunately, I’m not sure book canon is heavily considered when writing the script (tho shoutout D4 for making Castlecoming a thing).

All of this to say: the Descendants Cinematic Universe (yes, this is DCU now) was originally thought to be based on JUST The original animated films.

Except now all those characters are in High School together? What?

I’ve said this once already, but it reminds me of The School for Good and Evil. All the Heroes and Villains went to school together and then after graduation went off to be in a fairytale. I think the DCU could be interpreted as something similar. Hear me out:

First thing: Let’s assume for a minute DCU is separate from the original movies it’s based on. The blue-haired Ella and the blonde cartoon Cinderella are different characters. A little trickier: Teen Maleficent and Maleficent (D1) are the same person, but not the same as Sleeping Beauty (1959) Maleficent.

Second thing: Take exact copies of all those Original Animated characters and put them together in the same place at the same time. Now they all go to high school together. This part is the SGE-like part, but the difference is there isn’t such a strict distinction of heroes and villains. Merlin teaches everyone. Their fairytales are their choice.

Which brings me to the third: ALL OF THE PLOTS STILL HAPPEN, and in their world it’s just common place and also translated differently. Ella still has an Evil Stepmother, a dance to go to, and a prince to see, but it doesn’t look like the cartoon at all.

Other examples:

Hades is indeed a teenager, and just casually a King of the Underworld and a God. That’s just how this place works.

Jaladdin. JALADDIN. If they’re together, their story already panned out, but maybe in a way that’s more DCU-like. Maybe Princess Jasmine needed to have a date to a certain royal event (instead of picking a suitor). Maybe good ol Vizier Jafar sent a skater punk in detention to a pawnshop for the lamp. Yes, Genie was a Genie, but maybe also a thriftstore owner who helped Aladdin get the girl with some thrifty style and a dusty magic carpet. I’m spitballing here.

My point is: all the fairytale stories will still take place, and all the characters are the same BUT separate from Original Animated Disney Canon. Aladdin already happened. Cinderella is currently happening. Alice in Wonderland is SO FAR in the future. Peter Pan may happen soon. Captain Hook already lost his hand, so he already blames Pan for that. (Can yall imagine its his twerp cousin or something, lol)

(I can’t explain Morgie. Morgana La Fey is from Once and Future King (King Authur’s story). She was not in Disney’s The Sword in the Stone, which is only 1/4 of OFK. The main villain in Disney’s movie was Madam Mim.)

This explanation also makes it a little easier to digest the fact that Beast was able to unite the kingdoms and banish the villains. If DCU was straight outta Disney canon, he would have to unite 1920s Louisiana (Princess and the Frog) with Aladdin’s Agrabah (just not real).

So yeah, that’s how I’m somehow wrapping my brain around all this. What do y’all think?

[sixzeroes]

take my breath.

summary | lee donghyuck did not believe in ‘love at first sight.’ key word: did. he does now, but only because you happened to fall into his arms on the icy road in the narrow streets. you’re going to render him breathless from the countless times your smile takes his breath away.

characters | lee donghyuck x reader(f).

genres | fluff, romance, slice of life, strangers-to-lovers, meet-cute au, high school au, non-idol au.

warnings | profanity, me projecting my distaste for skinny jeans sorry hyuck ily, mentions of religion (hyuck is my fav church boy), he calls reader ‘princess’ :o like once tho lol, second-hand embarrassment,, mentions of jisung liking ive’s gaeul, not proofread so it’s probs all over the place sorry :P

word count | 5.5k.

37.5MHz | take my breath by nct dream ⋆ first love by sondia ⋆ lucky by exo.

it was time i had a more shy mc in my fics 💪💪 also this is me just projecting my dream meet-cute scenario that i always wish would happen during the damned winter lol!! ty all sm for waiting for this ep, i hope u enjoy ^^ ep.03 of my candy! miniseries, but it can be read on its own!

SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS, AND WHEN THE BOYS get together, Lee Donghyuck’s entire video game setup comes out. 

Today is the second day of January, and in celebration of the New Year, Donghyuck has invited some of his closest friends over for an entire day of video games. Huang Renjun, Lee Jeno, Liu Yangyang, and Osaki Shotaro have their hands on a controller. Zhong Chenle is busy calling his girlfriend whereas Na Jaemin is immersed in a podcast about bunnies. To his left, Mark Lee is stressing over university course selections, and to his right, Park Jisung is scrolling through an unknown girl’s Instagram. 

Donghyuck, being the Donghyuck he is, scooches over to Jisung with a mischievous smile. 

“Who’s that?” he asks, startling the younger boy. “Your girlfriend?”

Jisung’s face turns red and Donghyuck wishes he had his phone right now to capture the scene. “N—No! She’s not my girlfriend—just a classmate, that’s all.” 

That’s what Jisung says, but Donghyuck can tell that something is amiss. He nudges Jisung and wiggles his eyebrows. “Then is she a crush?” 

Jisung resembles a beet. 

“She is?” the older one coos, pinching the first year’s mochi-like cheek. “What do you like about”—he pauses to read the name—“Kim Gaeul?” 

“I don’t know,” Jisung honestly responds, looking down at his unlocked phone. “She’s really pretty and good at dancing.”

“It was love at first sight,” Chenle budges in with a dreamy sigh. In his eyes, the joy of teasing sparkles. “He’s been stalking her Instagram ever since November.” 

Donghyuck scrunches his nose at Chenle’s words. “Love at first sight? You’re kidding, right?”

Jisung shakes his head. “Why would I be kidding?”

Because ‘love at first sight’ is fake, Donghyuck wants to scoff, but he decides to keep that to himself. Jisung is obviously smitten with this girl, and as his older brother figure, the last thing Donghyuck wants to do is smash his innocent feelings. He instead opts to say, “You should at least follow her Instagram.” To that, Jisung vehemently shakes his head, and the topic is dropped at once. 

Donghyuck doesn’t believe in love at first sight. To him, love is something that occurs over time, not seconds. How can someone claim they love another when all they know is what they look like and their name? There’s no depth to love at first sight, no authenticity. Perhaps he’s being antagonistic, or maybe he’s just realistic. Either way, there is no such thing as ‘love at first sight’ in Donghyuck’s dictionary, and it will be like that for the next one hundred years. 

That was him yesterday, and whoever he was yesterday is not who he is today. 

Lee Donghyuck thinks he’s fallen in love at first sight. 

The road to the local CU is short but icy, an unfortunate outcome of the repeated snowfall throughout the past few weeks. The boys had slept over after last night’s truth or dare session seeped into the early hours of today. Even now, six of them are sprawled all across his living room while Renjun is tucked into Donghyuck’s sister’s bed. Mark walks beside him, the Canadian boy lounging in a sweater and a pair of basketball shorts despite the cold weather. Compared to him, Donghyuck is donning a thick winter jacket and a wool scarf for good measure. 

“You look funny,” comments Mark, his hands finding solace in his sweater pockets. 

Donghyuck shoots him a glare. “In Korea, someone like you is more likely to be stared at than me.”

The two make their way down the sidewalk to where CU is, finding themselves lost in a heated debate on whether Overwatch or League of Legends is a better game. (Donghyuck is a firm believer in Overwatch supremacy.) Mark exasperatedly shakes his head at Donghyuck’s stance, hands gesturing all over the place as he asserts why the younger one is completely and blatantly wrong. Donghyuck, in turn, groans in vexation, his chest muddled with frustration. 

Donghyuck turns the corner. “Mark, you don’t underst—”

One moment, he’s breathing like a regular person. Half a second later, Donghyuck feels as if the air has been knocked out of his lungs. Oh great, he thinks as a body crashes into him and his arms instinctively wrap around them, what a wonderful way to start the day.

“Oh my God,” a small voice squeaks, clearly mortified at the predicament. His focus is hazy from the impact, blinking to clear his blurring gaze. “I am so, so sorry!”

Donghyuck glances at the figure in his arms and his eyes double in size. “Woah…” he mumbles, zoning out of his surroundings. 

You pull away from his embrace, pink cheeks displaying your embarrassment. You profusely bow, avoiding eye contact with the boy. “I’m so sorry about this! Uh,” you crouch to pick up the bus card you’d dropped, “sorry! And thank you for catching me. Have a great day!” 

One moment, you’re standing in front of Donghyuck and Mark. Half a second later, you’re turning the corner with great urgency. 

Mark blinks. His lips are parted in confusion but no sound leaves his mouth. It takes him a minute to absorb the fast-paced situation. Finally, he says, “What the fuck was that?”

Donghyuck grazes a hand over his pounding heart, feeling the irregular beat through the several layers of thick winter clothes. Suddenly, he’s hotter than the sun despite the freezing weather. His ears are no longer tinted pink from the cold, but rather, a shade of crimson from the encounter. There’s an exhilarating feeling in his stomach, butterflies swarming his gut. He can vaguely hear Mark call his name in the background, the older guy tapping his shoulder. 

Is this what Jisung felt like?

Did Donghyuck just fall in love at first sight? 

“Melk,” he whispers—Mark makes a face at the nickname—one hand still over his heart, “I think I’m in love.” 

Mark coughs. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“So, let me get the facts straight,” says Renjun, hands folded as he digests the contents of Mark’s retelling. “You caught some girl from falling onto the ice by basically hugging her and now you’re in love with this girl who’s name you don’t even know?” 

Donghyuck dreamily sighs. “Yeah.” 

Jaemin flops onto the ground. “I think you’re insane.” 

Donghyuck dreamily nods. “Yeah.”

The group of boys simultaneously shake their heads at Donghyuck’s lovestruck expression, (understandably) ridiculed at how smitten he is with a random girl he met on the streets. Donghyuck, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about your flustered frame from earlier. He’s never before seen a girl as cute as you. If he was in a K-Drama, he’s certain CGI flowers would have decorated the screen. 

“Did you get a good look at her face?” asks Shotaro, invested in Donghyuck’s love life. 

The male lead smiles. “She’s so pretty.”

Yangyang whistles. “Recognise her from anywhere, maybe?”

Donghyuck’s smile falls. His head hangs low. “No. She doesn’t look like a student at our school—I would definitely remember her face if she was. She did seem to be around our age, though.” 

“If she was in our area,” says Jeno, patting his friend’s gloomy back, “there’s a chance you’ll see her again. Could be from a different block of complexes.” 

“Yeah,” Chenle chimes in, briefly looking up from his Nintendo Switch. “If she was running the opposite way, she might’ve been going to the bus stop.” 

Donghyuck perks up at that thought. “Maybe,” he excitedly murmurs. The seed of hope has begun to grow in his heart. Jeno and Chenle are right; why else would you be in this neighbourhood if you didn’t live nearby? As his friends scoot back to their respective activities, Donghyuck bites his lower lip in anticipation. 

Perhaps, he will run into you sooner than expected. 

Fate must hold a special spot in her heart for Donghyuck. 

Roughly thirty-three hours after his meet-cute with you, Donghyuck decides to go for an ice cream run with Yangyang at seven in the evening. (Renjun was going to join, but Donghyuck’s sister insisted on cuddling and being the sweet boyfriend but terrible best friend he is, Renjun happily agreed. Donghyuck is not on good terms with his younger sister anymore.) 

Yangyang rummages through the ice cream bars, searching for his go-to Seolleim. Donghyuck grabs a Nugabar and a Screwbar—he contemplates on giving one to Renjun, but ultimately decides on eating both of them instead. 

His money, Renjun’s loss. 

“Hello,” Donghyuck absentmindedly greets the cashier, placing the ice cream bars on the counter for scanning. He fishes out his card to pay, sticking the slim plastic into the machine. When the payment is complete, Donghyuck grabs his snacks and glances up to say his thanks. 

Your pretty yet exhausted smile greets him back. 

“You—!” His words are caught in his throat, taken aback at the scene before him. He tilts his ball cap from obscuring the top of his view. “The girl from yesterday!” 

Your eyebrows crinkle, adorning a puzzled expression. Then, after studying his face for a second, your eyes widen in remembrance. “Ah! The guy from yesterday!” 

(Yangyang watches from the sidelines.) 

The fatigue has now been replaced by sheer embarrassment and adrenaline from yesterday’s events, your ears burning red. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.” you apologise again, bowing for the nth time. “I hope you weren’t hurt anywhere!” 

Donghyuck rapidly shakes his head, sticking his hands up in denial. “No! No, I wasn’t hurt. Were you?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t, thanks to you.” you softly reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears. “I’d like to make up for my clumsy mistake, if that’s alright. Please, take something from the store for free.” 

(Yangyang snatches a bag of shrimp crackers.) 

Donghyuck refuses. “No, it’s okay. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.” 

(Yangyang slowly returns the bag of shrimp crackers.) 

“Are you sure?” you ask, lips pouting. 

Donghyuck finds you irresistibly cute. He can’t believe he’s never seen you around before, with your lovely lips and charming eyes. Hell, he’s never written poetry before, but with the way his mind won’t stop illustrating your beauty, he’s bound to replace history’s best poet with ease. Lee Donghyuck is attracted to you. He wants to see you again, and again, and again. The gears in his mind spin as a fantastic idea generates in his head. 

“Maybe,” he slowly starts, scanning your face, “if you really want to make up for it, you can give me your name instead.” 

(Yangyang suppresses a shriek.) 

The red spreads from your ears and neck to your cheeks and Donghyuck thinks you’re a gift sent from God. His parents didn’t get him the PC set he’s been wanting for ages, so as retribution, the heavens sent you right into his arms. Literally. 

You tug at your sweater, averting your gaze. “Y/N,” you speak timidly. “My name is Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Donghyuck gently grins, his heart rate accelerating at the progress he’s made. “I’m Donghyuck.” 

When you softly smile at him, Donghyuck believes he saved the world in his previous life. 

“Maybe,” Yangyang mimics to the boys, “you can make up for it by giving me your name instead.”

The crowd hollers, hounding a proud Donghyuck with pats on his back and slaps to his shoulders. 

It’s been four days since Donghyuck got your name, and he’s returned to the convenience store every evening in hopes of seeing you again. Unfortunately for him, your shifts did not align with his visits, and Donghyuck is starting to wonder if he hallucinated the entire encounter. (No, he couldn’t have; not when Yangyang continues to reenact the entire scene during their lunch breaks.) He steels himself with a slap to his left cheek. Today is Saturday, exactly one week since Donghyuck’s breath was taken away. Once again, he’s going to pop by CU around seven in the evening––this time, with Renjun, who he managed to convince as the younger Lee’s attending a student council dinner party. With Renjun shuffling behind, Donghyuck enters CU with high hopes. 

The Y/N drought instantly vanishes when he sees your figure at the cashier. You’re scanning a basket of snacks for a group of kids, laughing at their animated antics. Donghyuck is very, very close to becoming addicted to your smile.

“Renjun,” he excitedly taps the older guy, “that’s her.” He points at your figure. 

“Oh, I’ve seen her before,” says Renjun, glancing your way. “She seems to be a student at that prestigious all-girls school near ours.” 

Ah, the joy Donghyuck drowns in whenever he learns more about you (in, you know, a non-stalkerish way). “Really? How’d you know?”

Renjun browses the instant ramyun packages. “Saw her a few weeks ago with a calculus textbook on the countertop. You know, the ones specifically made by that school?”

Donghyuck does not know because he never really cared about the prestigious all-girls high school before––which was extremely disrespectful on his part for disregarding such a wonderful school with such a beautiful student. He’s jealous of the girls that attend your school, and how they’re most likely graced with your presence every day. Donghyuck would kill to see you every single day. 

His hands grab a package of Neoguri ramyun whereas Renjun picks out the classic Shin. The two of them head towards the now-empty cashier, the kids having filed out a few minutes prior.

“Oh, hello.” you grin. “Donghyuck, right?”

He passes you the package and beams. “Yeah! Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

(While Donghyuck is preoccupied with staring at your lovely face, Renjun slips his package onto the counter and you scan it as well. Donghyuck pays for both of the ramyun, but he’s too distracted to realise the extra dollar leaving his wallet.)

“Has it been busy at all?” asks Donghyuck, pulling his card out of the machine. He’s desperately searching for an excuse to linger just a little longer. Renjun finds a sudden interest for the alcoholic drinks located at the opposite side of the store. 

You shake your head. “Just a few customers here and there. It’s cold outside, so I guess everyone is staying indoors.” 

“Understandable,” the boy hums.

The convenience store falls silent, Renjun attempting to engross himself in the ingredients of soju, Donghyuck digging through his brain for another topic, you looking down at your phone for the time. It’s awkward––so awkward––that Donghyuck thinks you might never want to talk to him again. So, pulling on his big boy pants, he pops the big question. “Do you have a lover?”

Renjun chokes on his spit. Donghyuck bites down on his tongue. Your eyes widen at the unexpected inquiry. “Uh—no,” you sputter, cheeks red. “I don’t have a lover.”

“Then…” He licks his parted lips. “Can I ask you out on a date?”

The convenience store falls silent. Renjun contemplates grabbing his friend and making a run for it. Donghyuck prays to every single deity out there for a positive response. You digest his words, letting each and every syllable sink in. 

You nibble on your lower lip. “But…you don’t even know me.”

Donghyuck’s heart falls (so does Renjun’s), but he gathers hope when he catches your curious gaze. “You’re right,” he confidently states, “so I want to get to know you. I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. I think you’re really cute. Like really, really cute. I kinda fell for you when you—you know—fell into my arms. Sorta like love at first sight?” He’s rambling at this point, unveiling how desperate he is to have one chance with you. Love sure does silly things. “I mean, no pressure, though.”

Pink paints your face. You’re about to answer when a voice squeaks from behind. “Dude, move.” Annoyed, Donghyuck turns around with a glare but falters at the sight of four middle school girls. Oh. Donghyuck once lived with a middle school girl, so he knows better than to test their patience. Like a child that’s been disciplined, he obeys, scooting over to let the girls purchase their snacks. A hand grasps his wrist, tugging him away from the counter and towards the exit. 

“Hey! Renjun!” hisses Donghyuck, struggling to release himself. “What are you doing?”

Renjun steps into the cold atmosphere. “Saving you from further embarrassment. Seriously, Hyuck, what were you doing? Confessing your undying love for her on the third meeting? You don’t even know her full name!” The Chinese boy abruptly stops and Donghyuck stumbles to a halt. Renjun prods the younger’s chest. “Look, you’re being too rash. She’s clearly on the shy side, so approach her, don’t overwhelm her, okay? Don’t start panicking and blurt out random shit.”

Donghyuck purses his lips. He wants to refute but he can’t; Renjun is right. He hangs his head low, feeling a little (re: really) pathetic at how careless he had been. Impressions are important, and right now, he fears he’s left a terrible one on you. 

Renjun, obviously noticing Donghyuck’s sulky mood, adds, “You’ve still got a chance, though! From what I’ve observed, she seems to be interested in you, just extremely timid. I think, if you head back in with your thoughts organised—”

“Donghyuck!”

It takes him a second to register your voice. Donghyuck spins around, shocked to see you jogging towards him, still clad in your CU uniform. And like déjá vu, you slip on the ice, falling into his warm embrace. 

(Donghyuck could get used to this.) 

“Y/N,” he breathes, getting a whiff of your sweet scent. “Are you okay?” 

Like always, your ears are tinted red. “Uh—yes! Yes, thank you.” You balance yourself on the slippery surface. “I just wanted to give you something,” you quietly say, lifting a slip of paper. Your handwriting is scrawled on it, which Donghyuck finds effortlessly cute. “It’s my number. For, uh, you know, the date.” Your voice grows smaller at the last sentence, awkwardly avoiding his eyes. 

If Donghyuck is a dynamite, you are his lighter. 

“The—date?” he stammers, unable to believe his ears. “You’re—You—Yes to the date?” 

You gently laugh. “Yes to the date.” 

Donghyuck is on—no, above cloud nine. He plucks the piece of paper from your hands, grasping it as if it’d fly away. He cocks an eyebrow and tosses you a smirk. “I’ll text you later, princess.”

You avoid his eyes but a grin tugs at your lips. “I’ll be waiting.” With that, you give him a small wave and retreat back to the convenience store. Donghyuck watches you disappear, his heart rate breaking records. 

Renjun has one hell of a story to tell the others the next time the boys get together. 

Sunday morning, Donghyuck lays in bed as he stares at your contact in his phone. It’s been a little over twelve hours since you gave him your number, and because he’s a nervous wreck, he has yet to text you about the date. 

He ponders what sort of date would be the best. A picnic date? No, it’s too cold. A museum date? No, Donghyuck isn’t really into museums. An arcade date? No, he isn’t willing to unleash his no-showering-only-gaming side to you (yet). 

A movie date seems to be the most ideal first date, from both an objective and subjective perspective. He opens Naver, curious about the current selection of movies in theatres. Donghyuck scrolls through the list, spotting several movies he’s seen advertisements for. A particular one catches his eye—Candy, a romance-comedy movie featuring four high school boys and their entertaining love lives. He clicks on the description, intrigued by the premise. (Don’t let anyone know, but Donghyuck is a diehard romance fan.) A small smile settles on his lips. 

Donghyuck, with a vague itinerary in mind, sends you a message. 

donghyuck: hi y/n, it’s donghyuck :)

You respond almost immediately. 

you: donghyuck!! hi ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

He might overdose on your cuteness. 

donghyuck: so i was thinking of our date donghyuck: and i was wondering if ur up for a movie at the nearby lotte mall??

you: i’d love to watch a movie! which one ?

donghyuck: how does candy sound?

you: i’ve been wanting to watch that one for soo long!! 

Donghyuck proudly grins. 

donghyuck: i know it’s a little sudden, but is today at 3pm ok?? i’ll buy the tickets and everything, so just bring yourself

you: you don’t have to! i can buy the snacks

donghyuck: maybe you can pay next time ^^

Smooth, he thinks to himself. 

you: if u say so haha you: i’ll see you at three!!

Oh, Donghyuck beams, roses blooming on his cheeks. I definitely saved the world in my previous life.

Today’s look consists of a striped crewneck tucked into wide-legged slacks and a pair of black Converses. Donghyuck’s hair is neatly combed, his bangs parted to reveal a portion of his forehead. The outfit is topped off with a puffer jacket and a spritz of his father’s Dior perfume. Normally, Donghyuck would just wear a leather jacket in an all-black fashion. But Renjun, ever the style guru, emphasised the importance of looking nice on the first date. 

(Frankly, Renjun just wanted to play stylist so Donghyuck became his K-Pop idol to dress.) 

Donghyuck received a fair amount of compliments at church earlier this morning, many of his peers applauding the new look. He clearly remembers how impressed Uchinaga Aeri was, nearly shedding a tear at his lack of skinny jeans. 

(Sorry, Aeri, but Donghyuck still likes his skinny jeans and he won’t change his opinions for anyone. Not even you.)

(…Okay, maybe for you.)

(Can you tell he’s hopelessly in love?)

Despite the below zero weather, Donghyuck’s hands are sweaty and his nape is hot. It’s ten before three p.m., and he’s standing outside of the cinema, waiting for your familiar figure. With every minute that ticks by, his heartbeat jumps faster and faster. He recalls Renjun’s words. Approach her, don’t overwhelm her.

Donghyuck, to put it simply, is terrible with his crushes. He’s always had the tendency of getting ahead of himself, ultimately scaring away the girls he’d been interested in. He never means to overwhelm them, but when his own feelings are swallowing him whole, he can’t help but express his love through words and actions all at once. Donghyuck hopes you’re different; he hopes you won’t be chased away by the flood he may be. 

Three on the dot, you’re walking towards him with a bashful smile. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he gleams, absolutely elated. “You look really pretty today.”

Your smile may be shadowed by your timidity but it still outshines the sun. “Thank you, Donghyuck. You look good as well.” 

He giggles. Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks, Y/N.” Then, “I’ve bought the tickets and everything, we just need to grab some snacks. What’s your favourite popcorn?” 

“Mm,” you hum, scanning the options. “I’m fine with anything.” 

Right. Donghyuck forgot about your introverted tendencies. You’re on the shy side like Renjun had said, so he’s got to be the assertive one without, well, overwhelming you. The boy clears his throat. “How about caramel?”

You nod. “Sounds great.”

Fifteen minutes later, Donghyuck and you are seated side-by-side in the theatre, positioned near the centre of the large room. To his left are couples. To his right are couples. Behind and front? Also couples. Donghyuck catches a pair sharing a kiss and awkwardly looks away. 

He would like to kiss you right now. 

Stupid Donghyuck. Baby steps, baby steps.

He would still like to kiss you right now. 

Donghyuck lightly slaps his cheek. He’s here to woo you, not scare you away. His priority is to have you reciprocate his overflowing feelings with the same volume of love and then getting a kiss. 

The lights dim as the opening advertisements come to an end. You excitedly whisper, “The movie’s starting!” Donghyuck glances over at you, his heart stopping at how breathtaking you are. Not even the theatre could overshadow your beauty. 

The opening scene of Candy begins and he reluctantly averts his gaze back to the large screen. Your presence is difficult to ignore, but Donghyuck is not about to get caught staring like a creep. He chews on a handful of popcorn in an attempt to drown in the movie. 

Two hours later, Donghyuck is waiting in front of the restrooms, holding your bag in his hands. If anyone were to come up to him and demand an explanation for the plot of Candy from start to finish, he would simply laugh and redirect them to Namuwiki. Donghyuck doesn’t remember a single thing about the rom-com—save for the character ‘Haechan’—because he’d been too busy sneaking glimpses of your side profile. He might as well live on a ventilator from how often he loses his breath around you. 

You walk out with your hands damp, shaking them to rid the residual water. The two of you walk towards the exit and Donghyuck continues to hold your bag. He asks, “How was the movie?”

Your eyes glimmer. “It was amazing,” you sigh, dreamy. “I loved the different dynamics between the four couples and Haechan—he reminded me so much of you!” You glance at him and beam, “Haechan was…my favourite character throughout the entire film.” 

Oh. Donghyuck gulps. He’ll need to rewatch the movie. 

The time reads five twenty-two p.m., and Donghyuck’s stomach resonates with hunger. He purses his lips, browsing through his memories for a decent yet inexpensive restaurant nearby. You must’ve noticed his dilemma as you say, “Why don’t we grab ramyun at the convenience store?” You elaborate, “I forgot my calculus textbook there. Also, we’d get free food.”

Free food? No sane person would ever pass up the opportunity to eat free food. 

And so, around six in the evening, Donghyuck is sitting at the local CU with a cup of Neoguri ramyun steaming in front of him. You’ve disappeared, presumably grabbing your calculus textbook and greeting the employee of the hour. His stomach continues to perform all sorts of acrobatics, his nerves gnawing at his heart. Donghyuck has never experienced so many different emotions all at once; it’s like a tsunami has erupted within him. 

“Sorry for taking so long.” You appear with a thick textbook in your arms. With a flustered tone, you say, “My manager—she wouldn’t stop asking about you.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t hide his cheeky smile. “Really? What did she ask?” 

Your eyelashes flutter. “If—you know—if you’re my boyfriend.” You whisper the last part, barely audible enough for Donghyuck to catch. Somehow, the corners of his lips lift even more, a pair of rose-tinted glasses perched on his nose. The way you’re shyly moving about, stirring your cup ramyun, cheeks hot with rouge. Donghyuck thinks that, if a meteor were to hit the earth at this moment, he would be content living the last seconds of his life with you by his side. (Sorry to Lee Donghyuck’s family and friends, but he’s got priorities!) He’s so, so infatuated, so head-over-heels in love with a girl he’s known for less than a month. There’s a plethora of things he doesn’t know about you, but he’s willing to learn every little detail of your life. Donghyuck wants to stay in your world for as long as time permits. 

You tap his shoulder. “Donghyuck? Are you okay?” Your cup ramyun is now empty of noodles, only a small amount of soup left. “You spaced out.” 

The boy blinks. “Did I?” He ruffles his bangs, accidentally ruining his neatly-combed hair. “Sorry, Y/N. I was thinking about how I’d be happy even if the world ended right now because I’m with you.” He blinks again. He abruptly stands up, neck flushed red as he grabs the garbage strewn before him. “Sorry! Ignore what I just said.” Donghyuck nervously avoids your gaze, scurrying over to the ramyun disposal to throw out the soup and recycle the cups. When he returns to where you’re seated, he fidgets with his fingers, unable to look you straight in the eyes. “It’s, uh, getting late now. I’ll walk you home, if that’s okay?” 

Donghyuck misses the way you softly grin. “Sure. Thank you.” 

The sun has already set, a dark navy coating the night sky. Several stars pierce through the atmosphere and Donghyuck can vaguely make out the Big Dipper. His gaze naturally shifts to you who’s brighter than the stars. Even under the faded moonlight, he can clearly see the outline of your pretty features. 

Donghyuck has no clue where he’s going. He’s blindly following you, walking this cold path with you until your apartment comes into view. You haven’t said anything, which he finds a little nerve-wracking. Donghyuck, being the Donghyuck he is, decides to blurt out, “I’m sorry.” 

You continue to walk but confusion taints your face. You tilt your head, lower lip jutted out. “For what? I really enjoyed today, even if it was impromptu.” 

He shakes his head. “Not because of the sudden date. Well, I mean, I guess a little, but not really. I’m just…” he inhales sharply, “really sorry about before. How I approached you and overwhelmed you every single time. I didn’t mean to—you know—impose myself on you—”

“You didn’t!” you exclaim, breaking his ramble. In a dulcet tone, you continue, “You never overwhelmed me. I was just surprised to know that a guy was genuinely interested in me, so I wasn’t really sure how to react.” You cross a parking lot. Donghyuck follows. “I’m also terrible with human interactions but you…with you, I feel so comfortable. Don’t ask me why. I have no scientific evidence for that. But just…” You glance at him and he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your face. “I want to get to know you better.”

Donghyuck is glad you’re on the same page. “Me too,” he whispers, elated. “Every time I’m with you, I feel like my heart’s going to explode. In a good way, of course. I really, really like being around you.” I fell in love at first sight.

You stop in front of Building 301 and turn to face him. “Thank you for today, Donghyuck.” you say, voice tender. “I truly enjoyed it.” 

His breath catches in his throat. “Me too.” 

Something in you must’ve snapped as you bravely lean forwards to press a sweet kiss on his cheek. As you retreat to your spot a few inches away from him, Donghyuck’s jaw slacks in shock. You giggle at his lovestruck expression. 

“Good night, Donghyuck.”

It takes everything within him to not squeal. 

“Good night, Y/N.”

He watches your figure slip into the apartment building, giving a small wave before disappearing behind the elevator doors. Donghyuck stands rooted to his spot, hand cupping his kissed cheek while his heart runs wild. 

You kissed his cheek. 

You kissed his cheek. 

Donghyuck didn’t believe in love at first sight. It was a stupid conception, because how was someone supposed to develop feelings for a person they had no knowledge about? Donghyuck didn’t understand, and frankly, he still doesn’t. He’s not sure as to why he fell in love with you at a single glance during a chance encounter. But one thing he is sure about? 

Lee Donghyuck is confident that you’ll take his breath away every single time until he’s left unable to breathe without your presence. 

you: donghyuck!!

Donghyuck pulls out his phone at the notification, a smile immediately spreading at the sender’s name. 

you: go home alr! it’s cold outside, i don’t want you to freeze :(

donghyuck: how did you know i’m still out here?

you: i can see you from the sixteenth floor

Donghyuck looks up. The sixteenth floor is far up, but when he squints, he can see your hand shooing him away. 

donghyuck: that’s not nice, telling your date to go away

you: if u get sick rn, you can’t be my date anymore so go home and take a long hot shower!!

Donghyuck chuckles. 

donghyuck: so, more dates?

You leave him on read for one minute. 

you: only if you go home rn and warm up

Donghyuck has never looked forward to living as much as now. 

donghyuck: noted. good night, y/n :))

you: good night, donghyuck <3

Donghyuck believes in love at first sight and you are his proof. 

bonus: the aftermath.

Approximately one hundred days have passed since you and Donghyuck decided to start dating, and instead of spending the special day outside, you’re snuggled up against your boyfriend at his place, watching Hunter × Hunter on TV. Neither of his parents are home and his younger sister kindly offered to hangout with their neighbour next door. It’s quiet, save for the anime and Donghyuck’s rhythmic breathing. 

You lay your head flat against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Donghyuck strokes your head but his eyes don’t stray from the screen. 

Frankly, you’re a little jealous. 

“Hyuck,” you whine, poking his nose. He looks down at you with a puzzled face. “Give me a kiss.”

Your boyfriend laughs. “Needy, huh?”

You huff. “I want attention, so give me a kiss.”

Donghyuck chuckles, but he complies nonetheless, adjusting his position so his lips can graze yours. You hum into the kiss, your thumb drawing circles on his cheek. 

It’s amazing how easily he takes your breath away.

© NABI (2023); ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

taglist | @matchahyuck @lovehowdream @niinjo @jeonnyread @pckeia @dandelionxgal @huangstape @lemarkjun @mosviqu @neosdaisy @hayven-cov @toothfa-1-ry

[asclexe]

⭐️ government-forced blog intro post ⭐️

(new and improved!)

welcome to marvin’s marvelous mechanical museum!

🌟⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌟

^ me if you even care..

art above by the one and only @pingunaa

remember 2 to do ur daily clicks for palestine

free everyone!! help some people in need!!!

fun websites masterlist

suicide hotlines

this could save your life!

kys /j <3 (KEEP YOURSELF SAFE /srs.)

hai!! hello!! hey!! what’s up!! basic info/fun stuff below the cut (very long intro soo sorry)

*flash/blink warning for the blinkies

name: asclexe formally? cameron causally, but call me whatever! no, seriously! idc! nicknames (ex: cam, ronnie, cammy, etc) are welcome! feel free to call me your pookie or your son or child or something, be creative!

⭐️gender and pronouns: i am uhhh. nonbinary i think. they/them preferred, but it/its or he/him are also fine!! i prefer gender neutral terms, but i also am more masc leaning. like im a man. but also just a person.

⭐️not specifying my age but im a minor. B cool!! internet safety!!

⭐️sexuality: aromantic asexual aplatonic lesbian dumbfuck

⭐️nationality/country: american fuck my stupid baka life (EST timezone)

⭐️ i am also white :/

⭐️star sign: leo :3

⭐️personality type: intj (also houses mtbi if u care)

⭐️religious alignment: atheist cause im god /j 💪💪

bigots and pedos/zoos are lame and not welcome. i bite scammers. exclusively nsfw/kink blogs not welcome. im a kid. ed blogs please do not follow me because im uncomfortable with that. also don’t expect a follow back if youre over 24 cus thats weirdd

also if ur a diehard stan of anything pls think :3

dni if you’re from earth or human. aliens only blog. /j

and everyone else is welcome :3

⭐️fandoms im most active in:

house md

doctor who (only on season 2!!)

good omens

warrior cats (on arc 5 but i don’t plan on reading them)

dungeon meshi

movies in general

+ any other fandoms i consume in the future!!

⭐️fandoms i rarely post abt but still enjoy

tbosas/the hunger games

dead poets society

six feet under

a series of unfortunate events

fnaf

she-ra/the owl house/steven universe/gravity falls/etc

bluey

barbie/monster high

doogie howser md

scott pilgrim

the amazing digital circus

the middle

stardew valley

the spiderverse

abbott elementary

aggretsuko

i will post abt my sims occasionally :3 most posts are text posts bc im untalented

*i’m looking to get into evangelion, supernatural, hannibal, saw, and dexter 👍

i write fanfiction and poetry (i take requests feel free to hmu), i do local theater, i make pride icons (also requests hmu) i drabble in the occasional doodle, and i like baking and watching youtube and scrolling through tumblr and walking through the forest and my neighborhood and making bracelets and spending money and laying on the floor and singing and dancing and being silly and reading medical textbooks and cool novels and hanging with my irls and idk, yeah! life! carpe diem!

*also i’m trying to get into reality shifting! (im not a freak i swear)

⭐️my fav music artists (a little all over the place:3) jack stauber, will wood, lemon demon, tally hall/miracle musical, dazey and the scouts, mommy long legs, the oozes, bear ghost, mitski, chappell roan, weezer, the smashing pumpkins, my chemical romance, laufey, liana flores, faye webster, MARINA, pearl & the oysters, queen, no doubt, slipknot, korn, mindless self indulgence, hole, some olivia rodrigo, charli xcx, some vocaloids,

i love pretty much all kinds of jazz, rock, and showtunes (except ballads. i dislike ballads)

my music taste can be described as like. neurodivergent weird kid alt rock and hot girl summer pop.

(music recs are very much welcome <33)

*taylor swift enjoyers follow at your own risk (i hate on her occasionally. i really dislike her music and she’s also not that great of a person)

random facts about me :3

⭐️i’m left-handed (bully me for it ik im a freak)

⭐️unfortunately a theater kid :/

⭐️tall for this website

⭐️the most insufferable and annoying person ever

⭐️DOESNT BITE!! (i swear)

⭐️ i’m genetically pitch perfect but i’m awful with rhythm

⭐️favorite planet is ur mom (i ❤️ venus)

⭐️honors roll baby 🔥🔥

⭐️im most likely neurodiverse?? undiagnosed but speculated

⭐️perpetually alone only child 😔 please talk to me i love chatting with people, asks and replies preferred, dms okay <33

⭐️favorite color green. all of the shades.

⭐️i haven’t cried properly in like a year and i am not breaking my mewing streak

⭐️minorly touch/attention starved :3

⭐️single & ready to mingle!! (please don’t fucking talk to me like that im aroace and a minor )

⭐️REBLOGGING MACHINE 💪💪

⭐️i’ve never seen an episode of spongebob but saw the musical

⭐️#1 BEST XBOX SIMMER 🔥🔥

⭐️im nicer than i seem (i’m also a very negative person in general but i keep my thoughts to myself!)

⭐️i have a massive sweet tooth :3

⭐️(new) tags guide!⭐️

*note this is a new system i’m trying out, some older posts do not apply

#asclexeposting - all original content

#camyyaps - unhinged text posts/late night eepy time posts/yapping in the tags

#cam touches grass - the rare times i go outside and touch grass and do stuff

#ask the fellows - relating to my ask blog (go follow it go do it its @ask-the-ducklings go ask stuff)

#me ask :3 - reblog of something i asked another blog

#mootie :3 - if we’re mutuals and you send me an ask i tag it with this :3

*you also get your own individual tag for asks, for example @pingunaa is ping :3 and @rubeslovesthesmiths is rubes :3, etc

#cammy’s 4 later tag :3 - stuff for later!!

#cam plays the sims :3 - my simming tag

old man doctor yaoi prompt list :3

my house md oc :3

⭐️side blogs!⭐️

@ask-the-ducklings - ask/roleplay blog 4 the house md duckligns

1/2 of @meanwhile-on-the-road, the other half is pookie @sillyhyperfixator

@house-md-referrer - house md references

@theindierockcafe - writing blog

this will be mostly reblogs of my silly mutuals/my fyp, i try to make original content often! I ❤️ REBLOGGING ART YOU SHOULD DO IT TOO!!!! hope we can get along! ask me whatever! i don’t know! be nice and respectful cause i’m a minor!

SPAM MY ASK BOX :3 create lore, send me images, ask for comfort, WHATEVER!!!! im friendly and ill answer your ask eventually.

disclaimer; i live in the us and a snowflake so im occasionally political, nothing too extreme im just scared 👍 i also don’t spoiler tag!! sorry!

if you want me to share your fundraiser; give me some time to verify you!!!! i promise im not ignoring you!!

blinkies made in the blinkie cafe :3

[tenaciouschronicler]

August 10 2024 2009

Hmmmm

I, dont know how to feel about these new puppets we see. And I think Dave is just as conflicted.

Bro, like all the other gaurdians, has made the main areas his own leaving no space for Daves interests. Its even worse in an apartment where anytime Dave leaves his room hes essentially entering Bros room. He sleeps on a futon in the living room and commanderes the xbox and tv as his own.

Theres also Cal.

Not sure if Bro is around doing some sort of sneaky business but I applaud Daves very minor surprise at the jumpscare.

To further add to the case of this being Bros 'room' in the corner is a desk with his computer setup. Im not sure if this apartment only has one room, in which case im glad at least he allows Dave privacy, but if doesnt it feels like a douche move to not at least attempt to section off an area of his own. Hed pretty much be forcing Dave to rarely, if even, go out to what is supposed to be a communal area.

At least the computer, while password locked, can be accessed by Dave. We dont get to know the password though, but can see a desktop other than the kids.

The wallpaper is pretty cool, maybe also part of that in-universe game And It Dont Stop. The folders though..."On the desktop is a hodgepodge of unnamed folders to store all the stuff he's working on. No one can decipher his organization system but him."

We also learn what Complete Bullshit is, a content aggregator of various websites.

Once again we see the number 413 in the version number. Some websites include:

itoldyoumanitoldyouaboutstairs.com

pimpedoutpuppets.com - all puppets all pimp holla

youtube.com - video in question is Silly puppet dance with the comment this is shit

IMDB

IGN

what looks like facebooks homepage

puppet porn - in a time where it seems acceptable for artists to smoke crack, gangbang, shoot each other and parade everyday (huh???)

what may be twitter where Bro follows Tony Hawk

crech (?) marionettes, the largest online exhibition of original marionettes, puppets, antique marionetts, (and then the rest is cut off)

puppeteers of america - organization of puppetry, national organization of puppetry

cnn.com

skaia-net news - beta release, stable release date, bug reports

plush rump- your online one stop go tofo the plumpest plushiest bare rumps this side of Jim Hensons most sorid fantasies (doube huh?????)

the wikipedia page for puppet

review of game bros march issue - oh man, when this heady volume of unabridged awesome hit my door step it made a sort of thunder (once again cut off)

the webpage for Daves Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff

I dont know how anyone could handle looking at that for too long. Or even know what they are looking at.

[ofjunenote]

let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

synopsis — In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters?

OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills.

pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader

genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn

wc — 18k

content — CLEAN VER. university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, swearing, dirty jokes bc of the word smash (lmk if i missed anything!)

a/n — HIIIIIIII. this might seem familiar to some and its because this has been posted before. This is the SFW version on my SFW blog!!!! so minors are allowed to interact with this as it’s been altered to fit for a general audience. as always, i hope you enjoy reading. all comments are welcome!

You enjoy sports.

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport  — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face?

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand.

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.” He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,”  You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg.

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?” You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield.

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times.

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful.

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class.

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin.

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t.

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from.

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped.

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket.

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.”

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow.

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves.

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following.

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly.

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple.

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green.

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both.

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night.

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes.

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break.

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name.

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class.

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,”

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving.

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist.

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath.

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag.

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead.

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag.

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process.

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot?

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently.

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more.

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.”

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit.

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?”

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side.

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation.

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton.

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . .  a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation.

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead.

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time.

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue.

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack.

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face.

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie.

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you.

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?”

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, feeling the heat of his palms spreading. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit.

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date?

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm.

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness.

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups.

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment.

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung huffs every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. 

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play.

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You flush slightly at the proximity of you two, but before you could attempt to mask your expression the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here.

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place.

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?”

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead.

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?”

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner.

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left.

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: i’ll see you then <3

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps.

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure.

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung lips form a ‘o’, now stepping aside from the doors with your explanation, rubbing at his nape. You smile at his antic, nudging him quickly with a promise of being quick before going into the shower room.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.”

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting to force him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench.

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.”

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer.

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors.

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy;  but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student athlete’s playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still river.

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek.

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream.

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks making you feel fuzzy on the inside.

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair.

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills.

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you.

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.”

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!”

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time.

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly.

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows.

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

[theobsidianempress]

The Nanny

WARNING: This story contains strong language and sexual themes. If you are UNDER the age of 18 - GO AWAY!

Summary:

Everything was going well for you. A good paying job, just graduated with your masters in child psychology and development along with your teaching certificate. Things seemed to be on the up and up until your boyfriend’s ego go in the way. Before you knew it you were living with your mom again in your childhood bedroom. You decided that rather than wallow in self pity, you’d put your degree to some use only that seemed to be harder than you thought. At the end of your rope you decided to look at the private ads and answered one for a single working father with two daughters. That turned out to be one of the best decisions you ever made.

Chapter 1: Perceived Slight

You had graduated from university with your masters in Early Childhood Development and Psychology about a year ago. You had always wanted to work with children. The only problem was finding a job that worked with you. Working in a school sounded like a good idea until you realized that you weren’t a morning person and dealing with a classroom full of toddlers first thing in the morning sounded like hell on earth. You had to do that as an internship and while you loved the kids you helped teach, you knew you could not do that again. You thought about opening your own private practice to be a child therapist… only there was a lot of fees and red tape to get through. So, to make ends meet while you figured your life out, your boyfriend graciously offered you a job at his store in Ginza.

Working in Ginza in a high-end suit shop definitely had its perks. The amount of cute guys that would stop in to look for a suit to purchase was mind boggling. Only, your boyfriend was the manager and it would have been wildly inappropriate to flirt with the clientele even if they openly flirted with you. You did your best to shut down their advances and, most of the time, they listened to you. This seemed to placate your overly jealous boyfriend. He would watch you like a hawk when you welcomed in someone that was mildly more attractive than him. He knew he was nothing to sneeze at but he should’ve had more faith in you. You loved him. You would never leave him for someone else just because they were more handsome. That was vain. You were anything but. You could definitely appreciate a pretty face, any woman would but that wasn’t the only thing that mattered to you.

You tried time and time again to explain this to him but he was so far up his own ass that nothing you said mattered. Usually you two would fight and not talk for a few days before you would cave in and beg him to talk to you. That song and dance had worn you down so much that you threatened to leave him. Multiple times, actually. But every time he would throw a fit and threaten you back, whoever you managed to get with after him, your mom, anyone he could think of. One time he even threatened to end himself. Each time he got you to cancel the break up and stay with him and put up all over again with his toxic bullshit. His constant flirting with other women, his backhanded and degrading comments and so on. You figured he would have changed back into the sweet man you’d fallen in love with. The one who would bring you flowers, bring you coffee and buy you lunch unprompted. You hoped that he would go back to the way he was but after every fight, every comment, every time he talked you down, that hope seemed to fade away.

The door to the shop swung open bringing you back to reality. You looked around and every single one of your coworkers were occupied, so this client was yours to attend to.

“Welcome! How can I help you today?” You put on your best customer service smile and approached them. You couldn’t help but notice, aside from how tall he was, that his hair was snow white. He tipped his round dark shades down his nose to look at you. His eyes were the bluest you had ever seen. It became all too clear who was standing in front of you — Gojo Satoru, the owner of G-Tech Industries. It was like seeing a unicorn. You saw his face plastered on ads all over the city but you never once thought you’d be graced with his presence. You played it cool and acted like he was just another client. You had to. If you began fawning over him like he was the second coming of Jesus, you’d get your ass chewed for a lifetime from your boyfriend, who was of course staring you down from the till.

“Well aren’t you just the prettiest little thing? You’re gonna be helping me today, huh?” He said. Aw shit… Not only was he an ungodly amount of attractive, he was also a flirt.

“I’m not all that pretty, sir.” You down played his compliment, “What can I help you with today?” You repeated.

He put away his shades in his blazer pocket as a smirk tugged on his lips, “Pretty and humble. Cute.” He strolled right past you into the show room as he spoke, “I’m looking for a new suit for an event I have coming up. I want something a little different from the usual boring suit but nothing ostentatious. Think you can help me with that, gorgeous?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

You knew the inventory inside out and luckily, you had gotten some pieces that would work with what he was looking for. “Absolutely, sir. It just so happens we got some new pieces in that I believe would suit you quite well.” You said confidently, “Please follow me so I can get your measurements.”

It didn’t take a genius to know that Gojo was checking you out. You really were pretty. Nice figure, nice size chest, sweet face and a melodious voice. You made anything you wore look good and even the worst of news sounded pleasant. As you lead him to the fitting area you could feel his diamond gaze graze over you. It wasn’t something you were used to. Yes, you were used to being ogled but this was on a whole new different level. You couldn’t deny that being looked at did something to you, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. You were at work and you could see your boyfriend out of the corner of your eye pretending to do inventory while he watched you. That’s right… you had a boyfriend whom you were committed to and no amount of sensual eyeing would change that.

Gojo glanced over his shoulder at your tailing boyfriend. He quickly pretended to be doing something else but now it was obvious he was watching you.

“Pathetic…” You heard Gojo mutter under his breath.

Normally, you would have defended your boyfriend’s actions, but now you had to agree. His behavior was pathetic, but there was nothing you could do. You pulled a set of measuring tape from your pocket and began taking his measurements. That was a task and a half. You were on the shorter side, hitting no more than five foot four. So taking measurements for someone that was six foot three and seemingly all legs was hard. It took you several attempts to make sure you had the right numbers. The last thing you wanted was to come back with something that was too short. He had to deal with that enough. It wasn’t until you realized you had to take his waist measurements that your heart decided that your throat was its new home for the time being. No matter how hard you tried to swallow it back down and hide the flush of your face, it became increasingly obvious that Gojo did get to you. Anyone else you’d take their measurements and keep it moving. Since the illustrious Gojo Satoru was your client, the idea of being so close to him — even for just a moment — had your stomach doing flips and your heart threatening to stop. It didn’t matter what side or what angle you approached him, it still made you blush. You could see your boyfriend’s face redden with anger. That seemed to put your heart back into a normal rhythm.

“I am a professional and I have a job to do.” You thought as you went in.

You ignored the amused smirk on Gojo’s face as he watched you wrap your arms around him. Even though it was something you’d done a million times before with a million other clients, somehow he managed to fluster you. Or maybe it was the fact that your jealous boyfriend was watching you fiercely.

You scribbled the last of his measurements in your little note pad, “Alright! I’ll be right back with your options, Mr. Gojo.” You turn on your heels before he can say something flirty. You feared that if he did your boyfriend would kill the both of you right there.

As you’re picking items and scan the racks for anything that will work with what your client is looking for you, you feel a hand on your shoulder spin you around. Your heart sank into the depths of the ocean when you saw your boyfriend.

“What the hell was going on out there?” He seethed.

“Nothing. I’m just doing my job.” You say as you attempt to finish.

He let off a cold chuckle that would make the winter wind jealous, “Nothing? You really expect me to believe that that was nothing?” He gestured behind him.

“Yes. Now we are at work and I have a job to do.” You put up your own cold front and try to move past him.

He didn’t move. In fact, he dug his heels into the carpet, “Oh, no. You’re not getting away that easily.”

You looked up at him through your brows, “I don’t care how you feel right now. We are at work and have jobs to do. If you’re incapable of doing that then go home.” Like you had any power to send him home. You watched as his fist and jaw clenched and unclenched. Steam was practically pouring out of his ears and it looked like it was taking every ounce of control he had not to throttle you right then and there. Without a word he moved aside and let you finish your picking before you scampered back out to your awaiting client.

He was sitting there, leaning back with one leg propped up on the other in one of the plush seats scrolling on his phone. He hopped up when he saw you with arms full of options for him. You led him over to the changing room and hung up everything nicely for him.

“Sure you can’t join me?” He quipped.

“I’m afraid not, Mr Gojo. That would be highly inappropriate.” You said as you left him to change.

As you waited for him to emerge, you felt cold. You knew that today, after work, you were absolutely fucked. You hadn’t done anything wrong but in your jealous boyfriend's mind you might as well been sucking Gojo’s dick right then and there.

“No matter what I do… It’s like he’s always looking for some reason to be mad at me…” You muttered to yourself. You shook your head trying to reset like an etch-a-sketch. You needed to be present for your client. That’s what mattered right now. It didn’t matter if your boyfriend was the manager or not. He could take his fragile ego and shove it up.

As if on cue, Gojo emerged in a navy blue suit with subtle detailing throughout. It wasn’t noticeable from afar. It was once you got up close and personal, you could see the detail in the fabric. You could tell by the smile he wore that you’ve done your job. It fit him well and the darker blue made his eyes pop more so than they already did.

“What do you think?” He asked.

You smiled, “I think It looks great.” You were just doing your job and affirming what Gojo already knew.

He went back in and changed back into the suit he came in with. He handed you the options he didn’t want and you put them on the ‘go-back rack’. In his arms were the midnight one he had modeled for you along with a black one that was similar.

“Is this all for you, Mr. Gojo?” You asked as you gestured to his haul.

“Not quite.” He said as he wandered over to the display for ties and tie clips.

You helped him pick out a few ties and tie clips for the suits as well as a few sets of jewel studded cufflinks. When he was ready you lead him up to the till where your manager of a boyfriend was waiting. You paid no mind to the rage burning behind his eyes. You typed in your code and began checking out the items for your client. Commission came standard with working for a luxury store, but that was the last thing on your mind as you cared more about the experience you provided. As you rang up his purchases, your mind began to swim with the amount of zeros you saw. Okay, you cared a little about the commission. You were gonna eat good with that commission check. You held it together as you gestured to the card reader. Unlike most places in Japan, your store was card only. It made sense with the type of clientele you dealt with.

You watched as Gojo swiped his black card through the reader. It sang its song of approval and you began to bag his purchases. You walked him over to the door and handed him the bag with both hands and a respectful bow.

“Thank you for shopping with us, Mr. Gojo. I hope your experience was a good one.” Your customer service smile was on full display.

He took his bag with a sly smile, “It was better than “good”, it was phenomenal, thanks to you, beautiful.” He gave a wink before putting on his round shades and leaving.

The second the door closed the other girls came swarming around you saying how lucky you were and fangirling over the fact that you got to help THE Gojo Satoru. They shot off questions faster than a Tommy gun. You only answered questions you heard and downplayed the entire experience. It wouldn’t be long before another customer walked in causing all of you to scatter and look busy.

The rest of the day went by as normally as it could. You would help customers that would come in, your pathetic boyfriend would tail you under the guise of doing work around the store and you would carry on as if he was nothing more than a lingering fart in the air. Rinse and repeat until you got to clock out. Since you were staff, you got to leave earlier than your boyfriend and you couldn’t thank the Gods above enough for that. Your two cats greeted you at the door with happy meows as if asking you how your day was.

“Hello mommy babies!” You chirped. You dropped to your knees as you beckoned them both to you.

“Hi, Yuki. My little snowman.” You pet his soft white fur as he gently headbutt your left hand.

A larger tabby cat came trotting up to you with a happy twitching tail, “Hi Mochi! My chunky boy!”

You had an hour or maybe two before he would come storming into your shared apartment and cause a ruckus. The anxiety that racked you couldn’t be quelled no matter what you did. Take a shower, soak in the tub, have a glass of wine, read a book - none of that helped. All you could do was listen to the door noises. Listen for his footsteps thunder down the hall and his keys jingle as he unlocked the door. Only this time… He didn’t come thundering down the hall like an angry bull. He didn’t fling the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall. He didn’t shout at you and look around the apartment until he found you. He came home like nothing happened and that worried you more than the latter would have. Your boyfriend was not the ‘calm’ kind of angry. When he was pissed the whole building knew. So, what the fuck was his deal?

You poked your head out from your shared room, “Babe?” You called cautiously, “Welcome home.” You practically tiptoed out to the kitchen where you could hear him rummaging around in the fridge.

“You hungry? I’ll make you a sandwich” He said as he closed the fridge with his foot.

You stared at him like he had two heads, “He’s being nice? What happened? Why is he not throwing things and screaming at me?” You wondered.

“You good, babe?” He asked as he grabbed some plates from the cupboard.

You shook your head, “Y-yeah. I’ll take a sandwich.” You smile.

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. No screaming, no yelling and no breaking and throwing things. You cuddled up to him with your cats resting on your feet. You fell asleep as if nothing happened.

Even the next morning played out like nothing happened. You two ate breakfast together and even headed to the store together.

“Something isn’t right…” You thought as you walked alongside your boyfriend. Sure he was playing as if everything was fine but you knew in your core that something was amiss. You knew that he was planning something. You just had no idea what or when it was coming.

The two of you clock in and began working as normal. You were with a client when you noticed the District and General manager walk in. That also struck you as strange because you knew for a fact they weren’t due for a visit until the end of the summer. It had just turned spring.

“What the fuck are they doing here?” You barely had time to explore the thought before your client called for your attention. Today had turned out to be a busy day. Client after client coming in running you and your colleagues ragged. Only later in the afternoon did the rush die down. You were sitting on a plush chair chatting with another one of your coworkers when the district manager approached you.

“Y/N, would you mind coming back to the office with me?” He asked.

You looked at your coworker then back to the district manager, “Sure.” You hopped up on sore feet to follow him. Call it intuition or pure anxiety but you knew something was wrong. Why on earth would he want to talk to you? Somehow you knew this wasn’t a sort of “You’ve been doing so well we’re going to celebrate you” type deal. Yeah you were good at your job, but you weren't an employee of the month/year good.

The second the door opened to the office it became clear why he wanted to see you. The district manager took his seat next to the general manager and, next to her, was your boyfriend and another one of your coworkers.

“What’s this about?” You asked cautiously as you sat down.

The general manager shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “We’ve gotten reports of inappropriate behavior from you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Inappropriate behavior? You’re not serious. In my time here, I’ve not done anything that could be considered inappropriate.”

“This is no laughing matter, young lady.” The district manager said, his tone akin to a father scolding his child, “We cut you a break when you began dating your manager, but now you have the gall to flirt with clients.”

It was at that moment it clicked… You were getting fired all from a perceived slight of your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend.

“Sir, I can assure you that I was not flirting with clients. Nor have I ever done so.” You were done for and you knew it. There was no saving you but you weren’t going to go down like a bitch.

“That’s not what we heard. We also have witnesses to back up this claim.” The district manager said.

You glanced over to see your boyfriend and your other coworker smiling smugly. There were no cameras in the store to protect the high end clients that came through the store. The more you thought about it… there really weren’t any other witnesses that could attest on your behalf. Everyone else was occupied with either a client or some other work that needed to be done, or they had gone to lunch. All except her… All except that smug bitch that was sitting in the corner with your boyfriend’s hand on her thigh.

Oh… Oh… it all made sense now. Why he wasn’t mad with you. He had someone else and this was his way out.

You took a glance around the room. Taking in the disappointed looks of the general and district manager and the smug grins from two trashy humans. Normally you’d be shaking and crying, but something in you didn’t seem to care anymore. You couldn’t find a single fuck to give and that was alright with you.

“Frankly, I don’t care what your false report or witness has to say about my behavior. I did nothing wrong and I will stand by that.” You turned your attention to your well ex, now and his new girl, “You have got to be the most pathetic and jealous man I have ever had the displeasure of dating. You were a waste of my time and energy and I hate that I fell for your garbage for so long. You are disgusting for using your power to get me fired over nothing. But since we’re here for ‘inappropriate behavior,’” You used air quotes, “How about we talk about the fact that you’ve been stealing merchandise from the store and reporting it as sold? Or the fact you’ve been shorting people on their commission for MONTHS? Yeah you didn’t think they’d notice did you, babe? When you have me run reports for you because you’re too lazy to do your damn job, I noticed a thing or two.” His smug look was immediately replaced with one of shock and anger. You turned your attention to his new girl, “You can have him, honey. Trash deserves trash. Just be prepared to cut all of your other male friends and family out of your life. And may the heavens help you, if so much as look in the direction of another man. His jealousy is absolutely atrocious, but he can flirt with all the other women in the world and you just have to be okay with it.”

There was nothing that they could say. He knew you were right about him using his power and more than likely using your other co-worker to back up a false claim but he wasn’t expecting you to come in with shots of your own.

You turned your attention back to the general manager and district manager who were looking at you with shocked looks on their faces, “I’ll save you the trouble of paperwork and quit. I refuse to sit here and be lectured about something I didn’t do and have my name dragged through the mud. I’ll expect my last hourly check and commission check to be in the mail, all of it better be there.” You got up with your head held high and walked out of the office. You cleaned out your locker only taking what was yours and changed into normal clothing, leaving your uniform on the counter. You said bye to the coworkers you liked then left. However, the second you rounded that corner the facade you wore crumbled like a crappily built sand castle. You didn’t ugly cry but you were crying as you headed back home. You furiously wiped away tears not wanting anyone to notice. You did your best by putting on your sunglasses and wiping stray tears that fell past their reflective guard. As you made your way into the apartment your phone rang.

“Hello?” You sniffled.

“You have two hours to get your shit together and leave.” It was your ex. Figures he’d kick you out, too. Bastard.

“Two hours? You can’t be serious!” Your voice cracked.

He was oh so nonchalant about this whole thing, “I am. If you’re not out in two hours when I get home, I’m calling the cops. You’re not on the lease anyway.”

Your sanity was hanging on by a thread, “Fine. I’ll be out in two hours.” You hung up the phone and resisted the urge to break down even further. You scrolled through your contacts until you found what you were looking for. You hit the call button and held your phone up to your ear. Each ring was agony, “Please pick up… please….” You begged through gritted teeth.

“Hi sweetheart! How are you?” You let out a sigh of relief at your mother’s voice.

“Hey, mom… Can I come stay with you for a while?” You asked timidly.

Your mom paused, “Did you two finally break up?” She finally asked.

You nodded as if she could see you, “Yeah… It wasn’t pretty.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.” You could hear her grab her keys.

“Thanks mom.” You hung up and knew it was time to get to work.

Fuck being nice and leaving this apartment tidy. You were mad and you were gonna take it out on him. You needed to dump your cats’ litter boxes so why not all over his bed? You decided out of the kindness of your heart to polish his expensive cufflinks… with sand paper. You also bent them out of shape and took the backings that held them in place, replaced his shampoo and conditioner with your hair removal cream, placed shrimp shells in the curtain rods and lemons on top of the cupboards where his 5’6” ass couldn’t reach.. You took a red cream lipstick and wrote in big bold letters “FUCK YOU!” on the bathroom mirror, took all the chords to his game systems and cut all wires to the TV and his PC, unplugged the refrigerator and left it open. You even took all the good food and threw it into the cat litter mess and, for good measure, sprayed all the condiments on it as well. When all was said and done, his place was wrecked. It wasn’t like he could tell building management either. You weren’t on the lease anyway.

You took only the clothes and shoes that you bought and liked. Anything else that was gifted to you by him was ripped and torn to shreds so he couldn’t regift or sell it. You packed your jewelry and sentimental items (that didn’t include that rat bastard of an ex), managed to wrestle your cats into their carriers and we’re ready to go. You locked the door and slid the key under it. All you had was a suitcase, a backpack, your cats and what belonged to them. You sat outside in the chilly evening on the steps as you waited for your mom to come and get you. You tried to shush your cats who were meowing up a storm because they were very stressed and confused by all of this as were you. This day was the second worst day of your life. The worst being when your dad died. You wished he was still alive so you could tell him about what just happened, sure he’d handle it by beating that asshole into the next century.

A dark blue Toyota rav4 pulled up in front of you. Out came your mom with wide open arms. She knew you needed a hug and by god she was going to give you one. The second her plush arms wrapped around you, you broke down into ugly violent sobs.

“I know, baby… I know… Momma’s here.” She soothed. She might have been old, but her hugs were just as warm and as tight as ever. She soothed you and rubbed your back as you wailed all the while telling you, “It’s gonna be okay.”

When you had decided that you had cried enough, did she finally let you go. Through hiccups and sobs, the two of you loaded your things and cats into her car.

“Thank you…” you said as you ran your sleeve across your face. Your mom reached over and squeezed your thigh, “You don’t have to thank me, baby. You know I’ll always be there for you.”

[greetings-and-salutations]

“Slightly More Anonymous Than Usual Karate Kids Getting Wasted and Starting Fist Fights”

Robby Keene x Reader Part 4

Day 7 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) really doesn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween Masquerade Ball. But, maybe Moon was right. Maybe she’d finally find her soulmate under the cheap streamers and disco lighting… (a cinderella retelling)

soulmate au: You find your soulmate when you touch for the first time and the date and time you met becomes engraved as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: starred out swear words, violence? that’s it? 🤔😂

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

‘October 31st 11:58pm’

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

Robby. Robby Keene. Miyagi-Do’s Robby Keene. Hawk’s practical sworn enemy Robby Keene.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do. She was sure she looked like an idiot, just standing there staring at him. But what was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like she, or anyone else for that matter, had tons upon tons of experience in this specific department.

Robby Keene…

Could this night get any worse?

“Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face, you little b*tch!”

Right…

The sharp pull, which was slowly becoming more familiar to the girl, was what brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts. She was confused again about its origins, but only for a moment before realization struck her like Hawk’s fist slamming into the side of Demetri’s face, which she could practically feel from where she stood.

Robby was gone.

And that was the pull. It was Robby. Robby, and the soulmate bond. Because Robby Keene was her soulmate. (Y/n)’s heart fluttered all on its own at the thought, and, against her better judgment, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate it. Robby was her soulmate. (Y/n) had found her soulmate. And he was… well, (Y/n) didn’t really know. But the universe did. And that was good enough for her. Her Cobra Kai friends, however, might take more convincing…

But, of course, she didn’t need to deal with that right now. No, right now, (Y/n)’s brain had apparently made the executive decision that she needed to, instead, make a break for it. Not that it wasn’t warranted. The whole evening had been an emotional roller coaster. So, fleeing the scene seemed like a fairly acceptable thing to do. And she hoped Robby would see it that way. He seemed pretty preoccupied presently anyways…

“Moon!” (Y/n) ran through the crowd, pushing past shocked partygoers who were watching the madness going down on the dance floor, and mentally cursed at herself. Why had she thought hitching a ride was a good idea instead of making her own way to this thing, knowing full well she wouldn’t have wished to stay as long as her friends did anyways, even if she hadn’t run into such a crisis as she now knew as “Robby Keene.” She honestly just hoped at this point that the other girl would be too preoccupied trying to stop her boyfriend from causing an all out karate brawl in formal attire to think too much about whether or not she should hand over the keys. Because (Y/n) really needed to get out of there…

“(Y/n)! Where’d you go!?! We were worried you got caught up in…” She trailed off, gesturing towards the mess that (Y/n) could vaguely see a familiar jacket in the middle of. Her heart jumped against her will when she caught sight of the boy she was universally destined to be with, and for a moment she contemplated staying to see if he would be alright, but then all the problems that come along with him returned to the forefront of her mind and (Y/n) was forcefully reminded how much she needed to be gone when he finally did come looking for her.

“Moon, I have to get out of here! You have to help me!” (Y/n) knew how frantic she sounded and almost felt sorry for the concern she was probably filling her friend with, but she just didn’t have time to sit around and explain. The fight was still raging, of course, but who knows how much longer it could go on for. And she needed to make her escape while they were all distracted…

“What are you talking about? We’ve gotta stop them!” Moon started dragging (Y/n) along with her, destination clear but, even if it hadn’t been, the return of the pulling sensation (of which (Y/n) had just now decided to describe simply as “Robby”) would have given it away. And that was the opposite of what she wanted…

“No! Moon, please! You have to get me out of here! It’s an emergency!”

Now, Moon didn’t initially look like she believed her, which caused (Y/n)’s heart to drop into her stomach. She hadn’t had time to think of the possible outcome if Robby did catch up with her. What do I say? What do I do? It was almost impossible to imagine the interaction not going horribly wrong in some way, and that only pushed (Y/n) further towards the flight side of her “fight or flight instinct.”

But, thankfully after a moment, which felt painfully more like an hour to the attempted runaway, Moon finally sighed and pulled a set of keys out of her purse.

“They’re to Hawk’s truck.” She explained, holding them out to (Y/n), but quickly pulled them back to finish her thought before the other girl could grab them. “But, you better bring it back to the dojo tomorrow, got it?” (Y/n) nodded eagerly, not caring that that meant making a pit stop at the Cobra infested place the next morning. She’d worry about that later…

“Thanks Moon, you’re a life saver! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And off (Y/n) ran with the keys, away from the quickly escalating situation behind her, and, of course, the potential boy of her dreams…

+ + +

Robby threw another punch into the fray, but his heart just wasn’t in it. He didn’t even get her name… God, why didn’t I get her name?

The mark on his wrist felt like it was burning but Robby knew that was all just in his head. But, then again, his head was swimming with so many thoughts that he couldn’t quite pinpoint which one precisely to mentally yell at to quiet down in order to stop the phantom pains.

Someone sending a sharp kick to his side brought Robby back to the situation at hand and he glared at the Cobra who he didn’t even recognize. He figured he must be one of Hawk’s though because he knew everyone in Miyagi-Do. Robby sent a kick back, using more force than necessary, though he wasn’t about to admit the reason behind it, figuring it would be childish to say he was mad that this whole endeavor had interrupted his conversation with the girl. His soulmate…

This was so stupid. He shouldn’t be here dealing with this sh*t. He should be with her, getting to know her, falling in love, all that mushy stuff. But no. Robby was more worried about this dumb karate war. What was wrong with him?

“Robby!? Where are you going!?”

But he ignored whoever it was, not even caring enough to look back as he shoved random Cobras out of his way, charging back towards where he’d last seen her. Because he needed to see her… His soulmate…

But the table was empty, and the girl? Nowhere to be found…

Robby’s heart clenched. Where did she go? He looked around frantically, the longer he came up empty handed the more worried he became, as his thoughts ran wild with what he was going to do now. He’d never met her without a mask on. He didn’t know her name, or literally anything about her. How was he going to find her?

And then, Robby caught sight of an all too familiar green dress, and almost sighed in relief. That is, until he realized it was running, so fast you’d think she was being chased, and so far in the opposite direction…

“No! Wait!”

In any other circumstance, Robby definitely would have caught her. While she was running incredibly fast for someone in a floor length poofy dress and heels, Robby’s own dress clothes were much more equipped for the exercise. But the crowd was so big and everyone was pushing him back towards the mess he was trying to get away from, and she just kept getting further and further away.

“Stop! Please!”

But by the time Robby had finally made it through, she was gone again, though this time leaving something behind…

He kneeled down with a frown, picking up the little keychain that seemed to have fallen away from the others in her haste to leave, hope growing in his chest at the thought that maybe this could be a clue to help him find her. But then his blood ran cold as Robby read the words printed across the leather…

COBRA KAI KARATE

Ah, sh*t…

TO BE CONTINUED

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @lolawassad @imaslutforsstuff @nani-2305 @hawkinsavclub1983

[venuscrashed]

Spider-Gwen x Male!Reader where she gets caught in her Spider-Girl costume by the reader, but the reader is so nonchalant about it just being like "Rough day today, Gwen?"

With her learning that he pretty much figured out that she was Spider-Girl all along and was just cool with it.

Thanks and have a nice day.

yuh.

The window had slowly open letting the breeze flow in. Gwen had crawled in with her spidey suit and closed the window behind her. Her whole suit illuminated the room with its bright colors. She sighed and quickly flipped over while looking over to the door and shooting a web to close the door. Her room still looked the same since traveling to another universe, except for some posters that show who she is.

She had finish fighting the vulture and escaping the police, she was too tired to deal with anything. The fight was more vicious than normal, she was thrown around like a rag doll and was shown no mercy. Her whole body ached but she couldn’t show it. She wouldn’t tell you but her dad hunting her has been on her mind more. Her head had been filled with all the possibly scenarios of the capture. Would he hate her? Let her go?

She let out an exhausted groan then slump onto the floor. Her hand rose to her face and lazily pulled off the mask. Her hair fell in front of her face and her eyes closed slowly, drooping.

“God I’m so tired,” Gwen had started to take off her suit when the zipper got stuck. Her hand yanked it down a couple times but it didn’t budge. “Damn it,” she sighed while jumping up.

Both her hands went to the zipper. She tried pulling it down but kept failing. She was dancing around like a lunatic, folded down while trying to get free. She finally snapped up and groaned into the air.

“Rough day today, Gwen?”

She spun around, shock in her face, “What are you doing here?” You two stared at her and then she remembered the important part. “I mean-uh-who’s Gwen? I’m not Gwen. I’m spider woman and this is a dream and-uh-you don’t know anything.”

She heard you chuckle quietly. She was turned around with her hand in her face. Cringing at herself.

“Gwen I know it’s you. It was obvious.”

She spun around so fast and walked up towards you. Her hands went up to your collar, pulling you towards her. “How is it obvious?”

Your face lit up with a smile. “Doesn’t matter. It’s our secret.” You left it at that with a finger and your lips and a wink.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” she sighed, letting you go. You fell to the floor and she walked away.

“We can’t have that now can we?”

She stared at you through the mirror. If looks could kill you would be dead.

“Kidding,” you put your hands up in defense. “Let me help with that.”

Gwen stood there, staring into space. Contemplating her choices. She mumbled to herself, thinking aloud if whether she should die if embarrassment or let you see her. Minutes had pass by before she finally spoke, “Fine. But hurry up, we don’t got all day.”

“Anything you want spider girl.”

[insomnia-moon]

i care IMMENSELY and need to know the teams the gyms the story and all of it my hands are open my listening ears are on please please please 🤲🏻

kendy, kendy, kendy!! sorry, that this took so long it has been an absolutely wildly busy/burnt out point in my life!!!

@reveluving idk if you’re a big pkmn girly, but i feel like you would love this too 👉🏾👈🏾

i actually made teams for like 8 characters for my batman fics so let me know if you want to see another one for my damian/oc wip. 🥺

for jason and my self-ship oc, bella

jason would be a dark-type gym leader by day, and definitely the leader of a violent criminal organization by night.

but what he’s doing isn’t too bad! he controls nightclubs, underground battling rings, and casinos like the ones in the game. just like in canon though, he never lets anybody harm children and he’ll hunt down any trainers in his area that are found to be abusive.

he’s tall, tough and scary but he’s sweet to his pokémon. if a kid loses to him at the gym, he won’t even take the prize money, he’ll just buy them ice cream! if teenagers or anyone older loses to his gym, he’ll just donate the prize money to local homeless shelters and places that house less fortunate children and pokémon. (not like he needs it with all of the money he makes.)

i will leave whether or not he kills people to how dark you interpret the universe to be; he would never harm a pokémon, though. anybody else remember when lance straight up murdered a team rocket member in gold/silver?

anyway this is his team!!

shiny duskull; it’s less of a pokémon he uses for battling and more just his constant companion. it’s his partner, despite being a ghost type because it’s red, masked, represents the grim reaper/death, and is a symbol of scared, crying children.

houndoom: also carries the imagery of death/hell, but it represents and his love for dogs, especially ace the bat-hound!

scrafty: it’s based on street fashion and being a delinquent, rebellious hoodlum, which fits pretty well given jason’s upbringing. duskull is his partner, but scraggy was probably the first pokémon he had.

absol: it’s a protector especially to children but is misunderstood constantly because people think it’s a bad omen of destruction, which reminds me of his reputation :(

honchcrow: it’s a mob boss, there’s not much else to say.

bisharp: wears metallic red armor and the pokédex calls it ruthless and unchanging in expression when it hunts and kills. it also usually has an army of smaller pokémon that do a lot of fighting and cutting down for it.

my oc isabella works at a bookstore, which is where her romance with jason blossoms. she’s down to earth and represents the every day people of gotham in a way that the batfamily can’t, so she would definitely be a normal type trainer; similar to how lenora in bw runs her normal-type gym out of a library in the back of a museum.

the bookstore however wouldn’t be a certified gym by the league, rather it’s more of a training space for people who want to research and practice more - she’d probably limit herself to one battle a day at the very end of her shift as a way to destress and if you win, you can get any book of your choosing for free!

jason won several times and still paid ‘as a tip’ when they first met, just so she would like him more. When she tried to return it, he only agreed to take it back if he could use it to take her on a date :(

here’s her team:

maushold: while in my actual stories, she’s comically afraid of mice, she and jason end up having a set of twins girls! plus maushold is just an inside joke with my sister who helps me develop a lot of my batman fanfiction ideas. 🥰

lopunny: because of the way it looks, people forget that lopunny can kick your ass. which is the same as isabella, who isn’t a trained fighter, but could absolutely sock you out. plus, especially with its mega evolution, lopunny takes a lot of inspiration from dancing, and isabella represents the latin side of my heritage, by being a bachatera/salsera! again, this is a love letter to my sister who’s 2nd fav is buneary!

eevee: she’s adaptable! plus, like jason, she loves puppies!

blissey: for her calming, motherly influence! (if trainers were allowed to 7 pokemon, i’d give her a kangaskhan for this too!)

cyclizar: come on. you can’t marry jason todd, without loving motorcycle rides. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

noctowl: her partner! represents her love for books and she’s a night owl, like everyone in gotham!

[lilolilyr]

I have an idea for an Andromaquynh modern AU fanfic

In it, Quynh moves back home to her parents after getting a degree at university she isn't really sure she can or wants to use. She used to think that she's a city girl despising the suburbs she grew up in, but now she thinks she was wrong about that or maybe her preferences changed, she doesn't much like the cities she studied in anymore, first she thinks it's because she studied abroad (in the countries of her ancestors) and could never quite connect to the culture there, but visiting a friend in a city in her home country shows her it isn't just that, she just prefers a quieter environment

In the meantime, her parents have moved to a different part of town and it doesn't really feel like coming home at all. Quynh still struggles with her place in life, she doesn't want to hang around on her parents' couch doing nothing forever but she doesn't know what else to do either and the thought of a regular 9-5 job in an office terrifies her, she has done enough internships in that kind of environment to know she can't stand it for long

Quynh starts taking long walks through the countryside, for her health because she hasn't really found any sports/active hobbies in the area yet (that's an aspect she really liked about the cities, there's always something interesting going on, she used to dance and try out things like shooting with bow&arrow and axe throwing), and to have quiet time to think away from her family. That way she gets to know the area quite well - she actually already knows it a bit because she really didn't live far away as a kid, but she never really walked through the fields on this side of the suburbs before

On her walks she sometimes comes across equestrians, and one time a horse throws off its rider and she ends up catching the animal, which doesn't seem to mind people in general just people trying to climb and sit on it - it won't stay the last time she comes across that particular animal, and she thinks she understands the horse quite well what with not wanting to do jobs they don't like just to be allowed to live comfortably.

Andy's the owner of the horse riding school, and when a girl falls off her horse (probably the one that doesn't much like its riders, Quynh calls it Big Guy lovingly not knowing what it's actually called) and needs medical attention, Quynh ends up taking the horse back to the stables and meets Andy there.

There's a bit of an age-gap between them and even once they meet and fall in love Andy is reluctant to commit to Quynh out of fear of tying Quynh to a life she might not really want, meanwhile Quynh is finally figuring out her place in life and she wants to stay with Andy.

I'll probably never write the full fanfic, I just don't have the time and motivation for it. If anyone's interested in getting the draft and adopting it, I'd love to hand it over for you to write it!

Post is okay to reblog :)

The draft I have is pretty much in bullet points atm, but I'd even go over it and clean it up a bit if someone's really interested in adopting the fic, and I'd be open to either chatting about it and giving more input, or you taking it and doing your own thing with it!

I don't have the time to write a longfic atm and I feel like what with the plot I'm thinking of, it really needs to be 10 or even 20k minimum to start doing it justice... That being said if sb wants to try writing a shorter version or is inspired by it to write anything similar, absolutely feel free! Just pls lmk once it's done so I can read it :D

I also already wrote a college AU horse girl!Andy longfic before, and while that one was happier and this one would probably have quite some angsty vibes before reaching its happy ending, it still kind of feels like I've done this before, also reducing my motivation for it even more :( which is a pity really because I do really like the idea.

If you want to take on the story reply to this or send me an ask/dm and we can figure out how to do this, discord/email/docs or whatever :)

My tog tag list - I know it's been ages, if anyone wants off this list or if someone new wants on it, please let me know! -: @bobeau-beaubo @lesbianlotties (daniwouldnever) @ongreenergrasses @eyeh0rr0r @cantteachanoldguardnewquotes @badwolfkaily @andramaquynhs @depresbianintheclassicalsense @andy-the-scythian @cryhardanddanceharder @my-gaydar-is-on-point @spookyvoidangelskeleton @bookerandy @jackwolfskid @cinnamonplums @cruzwalters @kayivy @blacks-phoenix @binariesarebullshit @tea-lizzard @prevalent-masters @aftermillennia @youssefguedira (pierremichelofavignon) @salzundhonig @moonlightbuckley @genyathefirebird (rupzydaisy) @nickydestati @after-a-millennium @spacewitchqueen @damnbert @not-so-good-omen (innocent-gayngel) @rhubarbdreams-blog @bedalk

[whispytrees]

Drunken Love ꨄ

Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

(warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, drunks, smut, nsfw, fingering, cursing, squirting)

(sypnosis: this is a university AU, where you go clubbing with your university friends and end up sleeping with one of them on accident! But that friend you slept with was no other then your schools number #1 heartthrob.)

It would be one of those wild nights, those nights where you and your friends get so stupid drunk you all start doing stupid shit, yeah. One of those. But this story doesn’t just consist of throwing up and dancing your heart out on the dance floor, it also consists of romance and love. Something you wouldn’t expect.

——————————————————————————

It would be a Saturday evening as you were getting dressed for the club that you and your friends decided to go to, to celebrate you passing your finals. Your friend group consisted of four, yourself, Shoko, Suguru and one of the most popular boys in school, Satoru gojo. I mean what wasn’t there to like about him? He was attractive, rich and quite strong. So he was bound to bring some sort of attraction, or at the very least catch someone’s eye. But to you, he was no more then a little kid begging for some sort of attention which honestly just pissed you off.

But back to the original point, you were getting dressed to go clubbing with a few of your university friends, wearing a red sleek dress that brought out your curves beautifully. You couldn’t help but admire yourself in your large mirror as your twirled around, watching how your dress twirled around you. You then took out your phone and snapped a picture of yourself, immediately sending it to Shoko to ask for her opinion.

𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙄𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙩

Y/n: So…what are we thinking…💕

Shoko: Oh wow! Your definitely going to steal someone’s attention with that thing

Y/n: awwww you think so? 🙏

Shoko: lmfaoooo for sure

Shoko: definitely a head turner

Y/n: Tysm ❤️

Shoko: your so welcome I’ll see your pretty ass at the club

Y/n: Of course you will. 😉

You smile at your phone for a second or two as you reread your conversation with shoko. You then put down your phone on your vanity and started working on your makeup and hair, putting on some mascara and eyeliner and even some eyeshadow while you let your hair hang over your shoulder. “Hm…I don’t look too bad.” You looked gorgeous, you couldn’t help but feel confident in yourself while staring back at your mirror.

You check your phone once more as you notice the time, it was time to head out as you took your keys and put on your black heels and left your apartment, locking the door behind you.

Before you knew it you were already at the club, it was a rather large one and it looked expensive and rich. You roll your eyes and sigh, looking inside your wallet to the singular 50 bill you have. “Damn you Satoru.” You grit your teeth as you spoke under your breath. He was the one who recommended this club after all, who’s idea was it to trust him?

“You seem rather emotional.” Suddenly you hear a voice behind you, one’s that’s rather deep and familiar. You turn around to see Suguru as your face lit up immediately. You ran up to him and called out his name as he put his hand onto your shoulder comfortingly while chuckling under his breath. “What’s got you so worked up? We haven’t even gone into the club and yet your already saying that bastards name like you want to rip him to shreds.”

“Oh it’s nothing, just a reminder on how broke I am.” You rolled your eyes and he chuckled once more, wrapping his muscular arm around your shoulders while walking you up the club steps.

“Just relax! This is a celebration for you y/n, don’t let that bastard get to you. Now cmon.” You nod in a small smile before you both finally entered the club as a rush of adrenaline ran through your body. Your eyes widened from the view of flashing lights and the loud music that was blasting from the speakers. Not to mention how big and fancy the club was on its own, if you knew about this place before, you wouldn’t hesitate coming here every Friday night.

“Oh wow..” you say with a lengthy gasp while still gazing over the fascinating club lights as your jaw started dropping a bit from all the fine men and women dancing and walking all and about the club floor. Suguru couldn’t help but gaze at your reaction and chuckle some more before you two soon noticed two other familiar figures, one with sunglasses and bright white locks and the other with a bob and brown beautiful hair, they both held glasses in their hands while chatting and vibing to the music.

You and Suguru walked over to them as you held a pleasant smile on your face. Before you even got there you noticed some individuals eyeing and pressed close to Satoru as you just rolled your eyes again. This isn’t new for any of you but for some reason this always gives you a aching feeling in your heart, but you try not to let this get to you. “Hey~” You spoke as you waved your hand. Immediately Satoru’s and Shokos attention landed on you and surguru as you all greet each other.

“There’s the eye candy!” Shoko grinned with the cigarette in her mouth as she hugged you and you obviously hug back.

“Oh please, you flatter me!” You giggled a bit as she pulled away from her hug. “You don’t look to bad yourself shoko!” She smiled back at you as you both chattered to yourselfs like you didn’t notice Satoru’s presence and crystal blue eyes GLARING at you and your body. But of course you try to pay it no mind.

After a little while you all decide to go to the dance floor to release some energy, you throw your hands up while shaking your hips to the music and Shoko does the same. While the boys on the other hand seem to be no where in sight. Just to find out that Suguru and Satoru were dragged off by some girls so they could personally dance with them. You scoff in annoyance as the ache in your heart only grew, watching Satoru’s smile grow as he watched some girls ass shake on him which only made you frown, but you quickly slap your face when you caught yourself feeling these stupid feelings. ‘What are you thinking Y/n?!’.

Shoko look at you in concern as she held your hand. “Are you okay? Maybe you should get a drink-“ She then put her arm around your shoulders and lead you to the bar while sitting next to you. You ordered a strong cocktail as shoko raised a eyebrow. “Are you sure you can take that?” She questioned.

“Mhm. I have a pretty strong tolerance.” You spoke as you made yourself smile and continued to watch the bartender make your drink.

“The drink I was referring too before was water but okay.” She shrugged and chuckled as she ordered a drink of her own. “Just…be careful m’kay?”

“Of course! I can handle my alcohol.” You rolled your eyes with a teasing smile and the bartender eventually handed you your drink, you took the glass within your hand and took a sip, closing one of your eyes and biting your lip from the bitter taste. If only you could take back what you said.

After a few drinks you were already getting tipsy and drowsy. And shoko watched you slowly start to drift off into another world and giggle at every thing she said. She couldn’t help but sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose as she watched you become a drunkie. But soon her phone started to ring as she could feel it vibrate in her pocket, she told you she has to exit the club for a few minutes to take a call, leaving you all alone at a bar with only you and the bartender, plus some other people on the opposite side of the bar. “Maannn this sucks.” You spoke with a pout.

“What sucks?” You quickly turn your head to look behind you as you noticed a familiar white haired individual, and that same shit faced grin he has plastered on his handsome, gorgeous lookin face. The one and only Satoru Gojo.

“Oh. It’s you. Nothing really…just bored…” you turned back around and sighed. Gliding your finger against the rim of the cocktail glass, making your finger spin in circles as you hiccup. Leaning your cheek against the fist of your other hand.

Satoru chuckled as he sat down beside you, taking Shokos seat and noticing her unfinished glass. “You…bored…? What could be so boring? We are at a club after all.” He scoffed teasingly and looked back at you. “Isn’t shoko supposed to be with you? Where is she?”

You sigh once more and gazed back at him, noticing his gorgeous sharp jawline and how his eyes sparked underneath the colorful flashing lights, but you couldn’t help but look away and back at your glass again. “She’s out taking a call…” hiccup “I think..” You rubbed your eyes and smiled drunkingly. “What about you…shouldn’t you be with those….nice…lookin’ girlzzz..” You asked him while slurring your words, Satoru couldn’t help but laugh at your drunken state.

“Well, you don’t mind me staying here until she comes back, do you? Someone has to entertain you after all..since your soooooo bored.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes teasingly again and you just giggled at his antics, something you wouldn’t do normally. “But nah, they were fun and all, but you do get tired after a while…I left Suguru to take care of ‘em.” You turn your head back and notice Surguru getting trampled on by a bunch of women as you just turn back to Satoru in concern.

“Are you sure he’s going to be…okay…? He looks…troubled…” You asked Satoru in concern, as he just shrugged carelessly.

“Nah, he’ll be fine. You look more troubled then him.” He said as he quickly leaned into your face, you both just inches away from each other as you couldn’t help but flush up from how close he is, before quickly leaning back and away from him to make space in between you two. “Just kidding!” He giggled and leaned back himself, observing your flushed state as a bigger smirk grew on his face. “Don’t take it personally sweetheart.” He took shoko’s cup and chugged it, cringing from the bitter taste. “Yeesh…who drinks this stuff..” You giggle from his reaction to the bitter drink and he just looks over to you again, his eyes dazzling on how cute you look when you giggle before quickly turning his head to look back down at shokos cocktail glass, trying to comprehend what he just felt in his throbbing heart.

“Hehe…your funny…but shoko…is gonna be sooo mad..” You snort a bit as you ordered another drink, barely handing your past 3. Satoru looked back at you in a chuckle and ordered his own.

“Are you sure you can take another drink, I don’t want you to pass out on me….but on the other hand…I could always take you home~” he winked as you playfully hit him, giving him a little angry pout. Which he honestly found adorable.

“I’m…im not drunk…just..a little bit woozy…” You said while leaning your head onto his shoulder and hiccuping once more, a giddy and flashy smile appeared on your face as you turn your head up to look at him as he just stared back down on you dazed and flabbergasted. Before you knew it he quickly turned his head away and brought his fist to his face and giving it a little cough, if you didn’t know better you’d think he was just didn’t want to cough in on you, but you could notice the faint color of pink on his cheeks which just made you giggle even more.

You couldn’t help but tease him a little, this is a rare sight of him being flustered after all. You nod and rub your head against his arm, before taking it and wrapping it around your waist as he just looked back at you in even more shock and even more blush. Perfect. “What? Is something wrong…” You said pouting your lips a bit, your best act at trying to look all sweet and innocent but to you demise it seemed like it was working.

Quickly he snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat. “Ahem-hah-what? I mean…If you wanted to be held you could’ve just said that..” He spoke in a awkward tone which only made you giggle even more. “But-no..nothings wrong.”

“Well…then you don’t mind this do you…?” Oh lord, you don’t know when you ever found this confidence but the alcohol was definitely doing something to you. Satoru shook his head as his usual smirk came back from the shadows, but the blush he had on his cheeks was still tinted.

“Well..I don’t mind at all.” He chuckled as gripped you waist harder and pulling you in closer, making you gasp in surprise but neither did you mind. “I’d actually prefer this.” He did he now? Well two can play this game. You gently brought up your hands from your thighs and placed them on his clothed chest, looking up at him with your most dazzling eyes and pouted pink glossed lips.

“W-well…I don’t mind too..” Something has really come over you to do something vial like this. Especially with a friend that has most of the school crushing on him. He stared back into your beautiful glittery eyes and smiled, inching closer to your face with that same bashful smile that always made your stomach flutter, which you obviously tried to ignore. You could smell his cologne and feel the way his hand wraps around you waist like it was made for it. ‘Gosh why were you thinking this way y/n?!’

But before you knew it you felt his lips on yours, your eyes widen from the sudden feeling, they were soft and smooth just like you expected. It was a gentle kiss though, you could feel him slowly turn his head to deepen the kiss as you close your eyes accepting him coming closer towards you. This was honestly the last thing you thought would happen to you tonight yet here you are. But after a few more seconds you both pull away, the faint tint of red on both of y’all’s cheeks as you stare into each others eyes and unable to pull away. You were going through a trance state, still trying to process all that happened to you tonight.

Suddenly he kissed you again, grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in as you can feel the breath from his nose blow onto your cupids bow. He tasted like alcohol but so did you, but somehow there was also a minty fresh feeling to his kiss which only made it better. You leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck, gliding your hand up and down as the kiss quickly became more passionate. Your head was spinning, quickly waiting to wake up from this dream state that you were having.

You felt his tongue slip and glide over you bottom lip as you let him enter your mouth, you started to moan into the kiss as he just pulled you closer onto his lap. You lost every care in the world as he held you in his arms, feeling safe and comforted as you just continued to lean into the kiss. Slowly, you felt his lips drag down onto your jaw and lower onto your neck, making your back arch as you felt him kiss your neck so gently but at the same time with so much passion.

“Is this what you wanted..?” He spoke gently as you felt his hot breath glide against your neck. You quickly nod your head as he continued kissing and sucking your neck, slowly leaving red marks across your neck. His hand slowly started to move again, putting his hand under your thighs so you could straddle him.

“Could we…,take this somewhere private..?” You hiccup and place your hand on his shoulders as he looked up at you again, pecking your neck on more time before getting up and putting you on your feet, placing a $100 dollar bill on the counter, grabbing your hand and dragging you off towards the exit.

“I’ll text Shoko that your with me later.” He dragged you towards his car and sat you in on the passenger seat and got in the drivers seat beside you, immediately pressing the gas as he drived you both off to his dorm. Fortunately the university was only about 20 minutes away as you both quickly got there and he unlocked his dorm while dragging you in and immediately pinning you to his kitchen counter. Starting to bite and kiss your neck like it was nothing.

You gasp a bit and close your eyes, feeling like your heart was going to bump out of your chest, you slowly wrap your arms around his back and pull him in closer, moving your head to the side so he has more room to kiss you. The more time passed the more hotter it became, your breaths were rigid as he started unzipping the back of your red dress and slipping off your sleeves. “Did you purposely wear this dress to catch my attention or what?” He smirked and and took off the top of your dress as it hanged on your waist, leaving you in your matching red bra. “Oh fuck.”

He immediately dived in and started sucking and kissing on your cleavage making you throw your head back in a moan, slipping your bra sleeves off your arms and unclipping the back of your bra to finally take it off and free your breasts, he paused and looked down for a second, a grin appearing on his face as he cupped one of your breasts and continued sucking and kissing your cleavage, slowly trailing down to your breasts, which only made you gasp for air.

He quickly took off his shirt and suit while throwing it on the floor, you’ve seen him bare before but for some reason this just felt so much more attractive. He quickly picked you up and you quickly wrapped your thighs around his waist. He brought you to his bed, and you landed on your back as he got on top of you. You both huffing and puffing from how hot the air is between you two. “don’t even know…how long I waited for his day.” He whispered under his breath while taking a strand of your hair in his palm and kissing it, you look up at him in surprise as he just stared back at you with those same crystal blue eyes as before, the same ones who makes your heart and stomach flutter.

“Me too…I’ve been waiting as well..” You gently place your hand on his cheek as he nuzzled into it, this felt heart warming. Like it’s something you’ve been missing your entire life and now it’s in the palm of your hands, but before you could get used to the feeling you felt hands creep up to the waistline of your dress that was hanging on your hips get pulled down, taking your underwear with it which left you completely bare and perfect from him to see.

His kisses started to go further down as he rested his hands against your waist, making you squirm the farther down he went but it honestly just riled him up even more. Once he was close enough to your pussy he took his finger and glided it up and down your slit making you release a tiny moan which he seemed to enjoy. “Look at you, already so wet for me?” He chuckled some more and continued to rub his finger up and down your slit, enjoying your reactions to the pleasure he was producing for you.

He spread your legs as you gasped. “I-I..” You place the back of your wrist onto your lips and close your eyes, your head was spinning, it was all too real but you were quickly brought back to life as you felt a finger enter you, which made you immediately flutter your eyes open and arch your back in another moan. He started pumping his finger in and out of you, watching as you squirm under his touch.

“Your so beautiful.” He smirked and placed his thumb over your clit and rubbing it in circles as he placed his elbow on the bed and leaned his head onto his fist. Like he was watching his very own movie live. It was making you bashful as you tried to suppress your moans in embarrassment but he quickly took off your wrist and held it in his free hand. “Oh nononono…I wanna hear you sweetheart.” You squirmed another moan and he just chuckled at your reaction, adding another finger to your hole which only made your mouth agape and toes curl.

“I’m just getting you ready for the real fun sweetheart.” He looked back down on your pussy, watching you spasm and clench around his fingers. Thrusting his fingers in and out of you which almost made you cum right then and there and he could tell. “Are you about to cum..?” He asked seductivly in which you violently shake your head and let out a little ‘yes’. He suddenly takes out his fingers, Leaving you with a empty feeling inside. “Don’t.” You look down in confusion and notice him starting to unbuckle his pants, taking them off leaving him in his boxers where a large budge could be seen. “Like what you see princess?”

You gulp and lay your head back, preparing yourself mentally for what your about to go thorough, it’s too late to back out now but it’s not like you would. You could hear him chuckle under his breath as he finally took off his boxers and lined his tip to your pussy, rubbing it in between your folds making your clench around nothing and letting out a little whine of your own. On the other hand he was letting your juices rub around his dick as he pumped it a few times, using it as lube. He groaned and let out a little ‘fuck’, making your heart flutter even more. He finally lined up his tip towards your hole and sighed, you gripped the sheets as you felt him started to enter you, the sheer size of him was breathtaking but it felt so good.

You let out a few more moans the farther he pushed inside you, he was stretching you out and splitting you open. You could feel tears starting to form at the edge of your eyes as he finally bottomed out, making your back arch a bit in the way you can feel his tip hit your cervix. He bit his bottom lip and let out a lengthily gasp, putting his hands on either side of your head as he just stared at your face once again. “Shit-augh fuck..your so tight.” You close your eyes and squirm once more, clenching around him so tightly as he can barely move.

“Shit you want me that badly?” He looked down and started to move again, making you let out a desperate whine which only encouraged him further. He continued his slow pace as he slowly moved his hands under your thighs, creeping them up under your knees so he can put you in a missionary position. His pace started to quicken and your moans just started to grow louder, the sounds of slaps and moans filled the air as the bed started to rock from the sheer pace of you both.

“Yes! Yes! Right there!” You moaned some more as his tip continued to runt against that certain G-spot that made you roll your eyes back and see stars. He grunted out a few curses and threw his head back, greatly smiling as he got carried away from the pleasure. The way you tightly clenched around him and the way he rutted against you, literally splitting you in half got you both moaning and whining. And even after a few minutes he can feel his climax start to come, but you were not far behind him. “‘M…’m close…” you said gripping his hair and he just continued his fast working pace.

“Yeah? Fuck, me too.” He tossed your legs over his shoulders and grabbed your waist, starting to quicken his pace as he was starting to chase his own orgasm. You both were so close and so sensitive which only made you scream louder. “Just like that…” The fact that the neighbors could hear or not didn’t matter anymore, or at least to you as you finally cummed all over his dick and pelvis, as he was not far behind, immediately pulling out and cumming on your stomach as you were both left there panting. He laid next to you and immediately hugged you into a cuddle which you didn’t mind reciprocating.

You felt his arms wrap around your shoulders as he pushed you into his chest for a hug, you hum in enjoyment while he just chuckled and rubbed your back, getting a little too close to your ass. “That was….that was…”

“That was amazing.” You look up at him in surprise as he finished your sentence. “Y/n, I’ve been thinking about you for fucking months. You’ve been stuck on my brain and anything I do always ends up with me thinking about you.” Your eyes just widen the more he confesses to you, how could you be so oblivious? All the times he was flirting with you was real? He planted his palm on your cheek and kissed your lips in which you kissed him back and just gave him a gentle smile.

“Satoru…I’ve been….thinking about you too…so god damn much.” He smiled and brushed some hair out of your face, giving your cheek a peck as he quickly started pecking the rest of your face, getting a laugh out of you as you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him lightly kiss all around. But suddenly you felt his hand start to grope your ass, and him leaning into your ear.

“What? You didn’t think it was over did you?” Your eyes widen when you looked back at him with his iconic smirk plastered on his face. You hitched your breath, that night was going to be a long one as he quickly got on top of you again and got into position.

——————————————————————————

Before you knew it, it was already the next morning. You hissed at the feeling as you felt light shining into your closed lidded eyes, but you couldn’t help but flutter them open and rub them after your awakening, you yawn and stretch as you observe your surroundings, a desk, a chair, a bed, a window, Satoru. “SATORU?!” You yell out as you sat up in surprise, cupping your forehead as you felt a massive hangover hit you like a ton of bricks. he groans and opens his eyes, looking up at you lazily while yawning himself.

“Whaaaat…?” You look at him in disbelief and you rub your aching forehead.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?!” You said looking around again in a panicked state, as he just chuckled from your reaction.

“You mean my bed? You don’t remember anything from last night do you?” He moves to his side to watch you, leaning his head onto his palm with that same exact smirk. You notice his gaze as you look down to your bare chest, letting out a squeal as you quickly took the covers and covered yourself.

“NO?! I’m not even going to ask what happened last night…” you said in absolute shock, rubbing your forehead as you tried to process what is going on.

“Well…it was hot to say the least-“ you quickly cup his mouth with your hand as he was about to explain the night you both had, basically cutting him off.

“Not another word.” He desperately nods as you quickly hear a notification sound from both your phones, you steal the blanket you both were sharing to cover your naked body and looked over the bed to see your phone laying on the floor with the pile of clothes, you pick it up and see one message from the group chat. You open it up and read the message with disbelief.

Suguru: So? How did the night go? 😏

Well shit.

Reblogs and notes are DEEPLY appreciated!

(All credits to the original artist!)

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

a glittering house of cards [ch 3/3]

A retrospective on everyone's favorite Fortune Arcana (and only 15 years too late!!) [PERSONA 3 SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE GAME]

It’s nice to think that some things are universal. Meeting estranged family is always a little awkward, even when your mom is the moon. At the shuddering heights of Tartarus, Thanatos gives Nyx a wan smile. “Hello, mother,” he says dutifully. “You look well.” The moon glares down at him, one enormous pea-green eye. Even without what might be called a face, Nyx still manages to convey a faint air of surprise. It figures. Kids never turn out how you expect. “It's the scarf, isn’t it,” he says, looking down at it. “You think it makes me look frivolous.”

I suspect that this goes without saying, but just to be safe: spoiler warning for the end of Persona 3 Portable and, by extension, ancillary spoilers for P3/P3R/etc. You can start from part one here.

It’s nice to think that some things are universal. Meeting estranged family is always a little awkward, even when your mom is the moon.

At the shuddering heights of Tartarus, Thanatos gives Nyx a wan smile.

“Hello, mother,” he says dutifully. “You look well.”

The moon glares down at him, one enormous pea-green eye. Even without what might be called a face, Nyx still manages to convey a faint air of surprise. It figures. Kids never turn out how you expect.

“It's the scarf, isn’t it,” he says, looking down at it. “You think it makes me look frivolous.”

Nyx gives up on understanding. She does not know the steps to this dance. Sorry I’m late, traffic was hell. You wouldn’t believe the congestion in the mesosphere. You look wonderful, you’ve grown so much, but you’re too skinny! A growing boy needs to eat! Words that mean nothing and words that mean everything. Muscle memories and rituals and expectations to subvert. Chaos into order, dust into meat. Comedy. Drama. Heartache and heartbreak and limited-time-only seasonal crepes. The whole bloody theater of life. It isn’t for her.

(It wasn’t supposed to be for Thanatos, either. It’s just that he got to borrow a little, for a while.)

Thanatos watches himself disappear.

It doesn’t hurt. Dying never does. People just get the wrong idea because they’ve got so used to living, which hurts immensely.

The last indignity is this: no matter how much you didn't want to, if you live long enough, eventually, you will have to see yourself become your mother.

###

Ryoji dreams.

Which is weird because, as a rule, the dead generally don’t. Death isn’t a long sleep. It’s just what happens when everything else stops. No more sleep. No more dreams. No more anything, ever. Pretty much by definition. But that doesn’t read as well on the bereavement card.

Nevertheless, Ryoji dreams. Maybe it’s another of his little perks. More special treatment to reward him for being a monster who shattered into twelve nightmares and a leech.

(It couldn’t be mercy. Nyx doesn’t know the meaning of the word.)

Ryoji dreams of a sky stained red and a sea painted black. Asphalt studded with steel coffins, hiding meat that’s only just begun to bloat. Ribbons of yellow and green pulse from the moon. Putrescent, like a wound.

One car remains on the crumbling bridge, crunched and upended but intact. Something inside it calls to him.

Death draws near.

There are four bodies in the car. Three of them are empty, but there is light still stirring in the fourth. She wriggles against the belt that binds her to her seat, one tiny hand clutching at the hand of something dead. Its hand looks just like hers. A perfect mirror.

Thanatos cannot understand. What is it that makes life so alluring? Why do the living cling so hard to something they were never going to keep?

It matters little. The girl is an opportunity. A shelter from which to gather strength. Hiding inside her will be easy. Death dwells in everything that breathes.

The girl hardens as she ages, like a scab. Scar tissue seals over her wounds. Slowly she learns how to pretend. How to hold out her hands and put on a smile.

She chases sensation. Blood on her knuckles, ash in her mouth. The sting of the safety pin through the lobe of her ear, her yelp muffled by fabric clenched between her teeth. Grit and gravel ground into her knees. Warm palms clenched tight against hers. She feels something, for a moment, and then nothing. None of it is anything. No feeling ever lasts.

She goes to sleep in the dark, alone.

But she isn’t alone.

(She’s never alone.)

The girl transfers schools, again. She’s made too many enemies, and still more false friends. She has donned a thousand masks. She knows, now, how to pretend.

Soon it will be over. The watcher takes comfort in that. Perhaps the girl would, too, if only he could tell her.

All at once, he finds that he can. Not only can—he must. There’s a contract that she must sign. An agreement that every living thing has already made; that they’ll make again and again and again. Someday, the pain will end. Memento Mori: Remember That You Will Die.

And when she opens the dormitory door, for the first time, she can see him.

The camera tilts. The witnessed, bearing witness. The watcher, suddenly seen.

“Hello,” Pharos tells her, and smiles. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The End

It's the end of the world.

Trees shudder and creak. Leaves pucker and drop. Steam curls off the surface of a sea already beginning to boil. And at the top of a very tall tower, nine specks of dust prepare for their final fight.

(There will be no more fighting, after this. There will be no ‘after.’ Only peace.)

Nyx will not mourn this world. Death is not the cost of life—it is its maker. Not an end, but an absence. What is light without shadow? What is shadow without something to cast it?

Death bounds life and life breeds death. Death defines life defines death, defines life, and around and around they go. Ring around the ro~sie, a pocket full of po~sies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Such a merry game! Such a merry chase! And then we all fall down.

There is no absolute truth, except for this: all living things are born to die. It is the ouroboros of existence. A snake can only swallow its own tail for so long before it runs out of tail.

You can finish part three here. Or start from the beginning here.

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs The Good Place S3

Michael personally intervening on behalf of all of his friends is SO SWEET. I love him

Honestly I am eating up Tahani’s fake Vogue interview, I love one (1) out-of-touch celebrity

“K, will you make me the happiest man in the world and agree to be my wife?” Jason proposing to every person he meets is also endearing in its own way. He’s so sincere about it LMAO

Patiently awaiting when he proposes to Chidi and Eleanor. Even Pillboi was not immune 

Honestly sneaking around and altering the mechanics of the universe that more powerful immortal beings are overseeing has worked in Michael’s favour so far, so why stop now?

Silly of them not to caption it, but pretty certain Chidi’s French dialogue exchange was, “T’es prêt, Chidi?” “Allez-y sans moi, je suis là.” “D’accord. À tout à l'heure.” (”Ready Chidi?” “Go on without me, I’m [almost] there.” “Alright. See you later.”)

Eleanor getting immediately defensive about being present for Chidi as if they have not been drawn together in like 800 separate universes:

“Chidi, your brain is broken, you need to fix your brain.” Uzo said: Good friends tell you when you need therapy

“You just march into my office unannounced, tell me your brain is broken, and demand I drop everything and just put you in the university’s 3 million dollar MRI machine?” This is why Chidi and Eleanor are soulmates LMAO. Very goal-oriented 

“You’re so weird. Let’s go!” I like Simone even though I’m certain she’s not Australian

Hahahahahah Eleanor imagining everyone in every story as sexy explains a lot about how she operates. That and she has hot friends

“We torture like 30 billion humans. Why do you care so much about these four?” Glenn asks a very reasonable question

Hahahaha I wonder how they decide what things to describe as objectively terrible in this show. Is it one writer or is it by committee

“Goodness isn’t something that a person inherently has. It’s something that she achieves through her actions.” I love how in every abstract example they use ‘she’ instead of ‘he.’ Both because Eleanor is the main character and because it’s refreshing

“I can’t just do things like that.” Chidi confirming he has never made a move on anyone and has only been subject to his girlfriend’s moves

“I’ve been running simulations on what their kids would be like. One of them is hot enough to be on The Bachelor, and smart enough to never go on The Bachelor.” LMAO JANET 

Also Michael said: Team Cheleanor 4 eternity (me too)

Also also also: Janet finally embracing Michael as her dad for one (1) minute hahaha

Michael’s love and want to help his friends also being their downfall 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭:

“I was never really that into her, no offense.” Eleanor immediately charming Tahani by not caring about her sister hahah

Tahani said: Uno reverse, I’m the Buddhist monk now, Jason

Tahani turning her near death experience and subsequent moral crisis into a self-help book that makes her more rich and well-known than before. Honestly good for her, get ur money girl

“I want you thinking about dance 24/7. That means every day you think 20 thoughts about dance for seven minutes.” Jason’s dialogue continues to be as iconic on Earth as it was in the afterlife 

I love that we’re finally meeting Donkey Doug of the Sixty-Person-Dance-Crew-Boogie-Board-Moral-Relativism story:

Fhfhkfhfkjhfkjfh all the people who walked out because they weren’t allowed to crime LOL

“When I’m with you, I feel like the sky’s the limit.” Pillboi is also a good friend, if not a good person kghjkghgj

“But I met new friends who helped me become a better... person.” I love Michael and Jason’s existential heart-to-hearts. I think he resonates with Eleanor and Jason most for obvious reasons

Also the hesitation for Michael to describe himself as a person HA

I also love the Side Arc of Michael making friends with Burt Hummel, the Doorman to Earth Who Loves Frogs:

“We did it, Janet. We got away with it,” said Michael, in what I’m sure isn’t foreshadowing of this immediately biting them in the ass

OMG NOT THE RETURN OF ADAM SCOTT AS TREVOR THE ME TOO DEMON LMAO

I won’t lie to you, it wasn’t until the whip-it cannisters that I understood that a whip-it is a physical object and not an action, and apparently a more sophisticated equivalent of huffing glue. Who knew? Not me!

“Darling do you remember all the rules about what can and cannot be worn in an MRI?” Tahani calling Eleanor darling <3 Also take off the metal girl 

JANET’S ON EARTH AND READY TO FIGHT FOR HER HOMIES:

(Drive-by commentary that Janet is hot—the uniform suits her!)

Janet and Michael are really struggling to deal with their mortal coil(s)

Firm believer that consensual sex between informed adults is morally neutral, but Tahani and Jason flirting does feel like infidelity lol (poor Janet)

“I’m sorry, but [not being friends] is just how it has to be.” IS THAT TRUE, CHIDI

Demon-All-Knowing-Personal-Assistant-Nicer-Demon standoff in the bathroom

“I got a solid eight minutes, not consecutively, but that’s fine. You’re barely even blurry.” I know it’s probably not in my best interests to strongly identify with Chidi but I strongly identify with Chidi

I’m very glad that Jason and Tahani didn’t drunkenly hook up but I do still view any of their flirting as an affront to Jason’s wife Janet LOL

“I’m asking you as a friend,” said Chidi, while simultaneously also not letting go of the belief that it’s unethical for them to be friends

“These four humans are all I care about in the universe.” MICHAEL ❤️

NOT THE JUDGE BLAMING MICHAEL AND JANET FOR BREXIT AND THE GREATEST SHOWMAN LMAO

I was certain Simone wasn’t Australian but it turns out that she’s British which kind of tracks accent-wise

“Good luck, Frog Man. I’m pulling for you.” HAHAHAHAHA Jeff (Burt Hummel) is a perfect addition to Michael’s incredible group of friends

They also all have in common a disregard for authority

NOT JANET AND MICHAEL STALKING THEIR FRIENDS LMAO

“I’m sad to inform you I’m too stupid and ugly to be in the study and I’m going home to my mommy.” Michael’s schoolyard insults are something else

I do think Eleanor having to work an in-between job would help provide a sense of normal moral conditions for her. Morality does not exist in a vacuum of your closest homies, even if Janet and Michael want it to be so 

“If I’m going to the mall anyway, I might as well pick Jason up some jean shorts. The kind with the frayed edges, where you can see the pockets coming out of the bottom. So that he can study better.” Janet wanting to get her secret husband a Christmas present

Tahani hooking up with Larry Hemsworth who also has self-worth issues in relation to his more famous siblings hahahahha

“You and Jason, imagine that. Actually, I have.” Eleanor is truly attracted to ALL of her friends

“I gotta go barf one last time, and then I’ll be ready to study philosophy.” That sums up my university experience

I know it’s just one little split-screen but Eleanor singing happy birthday (which she said she hated doing for coworkers) while Jason reads a philosophy book on his own time...... I love them

“I can’t wait til we move far away from the likes of you, and I can finally take her last name.” I’m kind of rooting for Larry Al-Jamil

“Feeling like your little team is the last thing standing between you and oblivion, and that at any moment, the universe could fold up around you and squeeze the last breath from your dying lungs.” Michael’s pep talks have gotten a lot more morose since the Sports Bar

“Let’s all stay here, and keep it going,” said Eleanor, in a moment of emotional vulnerability that she is definitely going to regret immediately

Eleanor smashing a cake out of caring about other people too much vs. her first smashing a cake out of caring about her self-preservation too much is really a full circle moment:

“As humans evolved, the first big problem we had to overcome was ‘me vs. us.’ Learning to sacrifice a little individual freedom for the benefit of the group. You know, sharing food and resources so we don’t starve or get eaten by tigers, things like that. The next problem to overcome is ‘us vs. them.’ Trying to see other groups, different from ours, as our equals.” Ohhhhhh we’ve hit upon the moral underpinning of the season. Hello, our new Kierkegarde

“This is all we have, Janet. We have Chidi, and Eleanor, and Tahani and Jason and that is it.” Michael I think it’s time for you to make some new friends 

“Serious question? Should we kill them?” HAHAHAH MICHAEL. He said improvise adapt overcome baybeee

Once again the rules of the afterlife seem so unfair because they learned about it by accident and they’re just people who really love their friends

I love how absurd this show is. I 100% accept that time in the afterlife moves in a Jeremy Bearimy and that nothing never happens on Tuesdays and July

“Now that I know how it all ends, I just want to be virtuous for virtue’s sake.” Tahani takes down the concept of moral desserts in one single sentence:

Also her skin is literally sparkling, everyone in this show is SO pretty

Honestly shocked it’s taken this long for Chidi to quote Nietzsche 

Chidi said: I heard you were calling everyone hot, I would like to submit my name for consideration:

Also Chidi finally fulfilling the ‘surprisingly ripped’ prophecy with a full-length shot of himself shirtless LOL

“And then, a recommendation of how we feel the afterlife could be improved. And we turn ourselves in, we’ll give it to the judge. Hopefully she’ll read it. We failed, Janet. But maybe one day, someone else will succeed.” Michael having goals of improving the afterlife beyond his immediate circle of friends 😭💘😭💘😭💘😭💘 I LOVE ONE (1) DEMON

 The little nod to the young-person-older-person tech divide with Michael

“In America, everyone does what they want. Society did break down. It’s terrible, and it’s great!” HAHAHAHAH I know someone enjoyed writing that

Eleanor going on a whole adventure for this man’s wallet ❤️ That’s my girl

HAHAHHAA is the concept of getting into heaven the only thing between Chidi and knocking around mountains of junk food shirtless at a grocery store:

Chidi’s boisterous “Hello!” after the morose groceries got me 

The cut between Chidi giving up his car and not really seeing anymore purpose to anything he does in life and Tahani and Jason joyfully chucking money to people is this meme:

Also Jason offering money to the baby is PERFECT, I LOVE HIM

“I could’ve gone to a real doctor, instead of pretending I was a big dog, so I could go to the vet.” Will someone save the United States of America

If Canada ever privatizes healthcare, I will have to move or die

It’s actually the mark of a good bank that they won’t just let Tahani impulsively transfer all her money, prevents financial abuse

“You’re a good person, Eleanor. I really hope my daughter turns out like you when she grows up.” ELEANOR 😭😭😭😭😭😭

HAHAHAHHAAH CHIDI’S STUDENTS WATCHING HIM MAKE M&M-PEEPS-CHILLI

“The actual ethical system that you should all follow is nihilism.” The meme was foreshadowing. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it become explicit, he is a moral philosophy professor

CHIDI TRYING TO TAKE THE CHILLI WITH HIM LMAO:

NOT JASON AND TAHANI GETTING MARRIED. WHERE DOES BIGAMY FALL ON THE POINTS SCALE LMAO

Appreciate the immediate clarification it was platonic tho

I don’t blame Tahani for forgetting Larry Hemsworth because I also forgot Larry Hemsworth until he reappeared even though it was literally one episode ago they established their engagement kghkjghg 

All of them deciding to be better people for other people’s sake, including Janet and Michael, who are not people 💗 [CHIDI VOICE] SIMPLY PUT, WE ARE NOT IN THIS ALONE 

“Nathan Burlingame.” “Didn’t like you.” “Kylie Mansnard?” “Thought you were cool but intimidating.” “No way! I thought she was intimidating. That’s why I shoved her into that creek.” I love that we’re acknowledging Eleanor’s bisexuality outside of her friend group

Happy Pride Month to Eleanor, whose methods of showing affection are consistent

“I’ve done that to dozens of people, and all of them got over it.” “Actually, none of your exes have ever got over you.” “You’re damn right they didn’t.” Hee hee hee Eleanor 

“I’ve heard you mention your friend Pillboi many times, but I’ve not heard you mention your father once.” “What do you mean? I talk about Donkey Doug all the time.” WHAT!!!!!!!!!!! HONESTLY THIS HAS SHOCKED ME MOST IN THE SHOW SINCE THE REVEAL OF THE BAD PLACE

Jason’s Dad Donkey Doug 🤝 Eleanor’s Mum

Immediately hitting on their child’s partner when they meet

“That’s the first time that line has ever failed.” Jason touching his heart like he’s proud of her for not having sex with his dad LMAO:

“Do you spray it on yourself, or do you drink it?” “You both it.” Someone give Pillboi an MBA

“More guys should be bi. It’s 2018. It’s like, get over yourselves.” HAHAHAH Eleanor, defeating internalized biphobia, one guy at a time

Michael 🤝 Chidi

Fixing all of their problems with reset buttons

Unequivocally, someone dumping me while giving me a puppy would be the best way to break up and I would forgive them immediately. Chidi has cracked the code:

HAHAHAHAH ELEANOR USING HER TIME IN THE SIMULATION TO VIRTUALLY MAKE OUT WITH SIMONE 

“You hooked us up with [redacted] channels every year since the third grade.” MAYBE DONKEY DOUG SHOULD BE IN JAIL

“What a weird creep. Why was I friends with him?” HAHAHA Tahani finally name drops someone who she dislikes and it’s Elon Musk, perfect

[Talk-To-The-Hand Gesture] “Ya dumped.” KHGHGKHGKJ this is what happens when you spend so much time with Eleanor. Also how did we get from puppies to this

“Hey, call me Donkey Dad.” Awwww. I don’t think prison would make Donkey Doug better but he definitely made the right call in taking the blame for the factory robbery

“My feelings have changed. I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t.” This is both honest and also alludes to the fact that Chidi can and will have feelings for Eleanor

Michael’s little [“you okay”] smile to Janet when Jason calls Tahani his wife ☹️☹️☹️☹️

Tahani’s immediately hostile expression on learning that one of Eleanor’s parents is alive and made Eleanor mourn them or no reason:

Love this episode of Tahani and Eleanor confronting their family trauma head on

“Can we do this for all the paintings?” JANET-JASON BONDING TIME ❤️❤️❤️ THEY ARE THE SLOW-BURN ROMANCE AT THE HEART OF THIS SHOW

“Young lady, you will stop this nonsense, go to the PTA meeting and support your mother, I won’t hear another word about it.” AWWW MICHAEL TRYING OUT THE DAD VIBES

“All of your fears are mine now.” Lmao @ Kamilah sussing out the one thing that could disrupt Chidi’s pursuit of helping his friend

Michael The Eleanor’s Dad Friend and Torture Architect and Dave The Eleanor’s Stepdad and Regular Architect is sooooo cute. I love when Michael makes new friends

“Why can’t you accept that she might be living a good, honest life? That she’s an attentive partner and a good mom?” “Because I wanted that mom!” Wow this really is the sibling trauma ep 

 Michael referring to himself as Eleanor’s self-appointed father figure 😭❤️

 “They were wankers, weren’t they?” THIS IS SIBLING CULTURE!!!!

Hahahaha Michael’s little suspicious side comments about human things like going to the bathroom kill me 

Also the fact that they have human bodies on Earth but no digestion LMAO

“I’m glad my mom has changed, but that doesn’t fix all the damage that she did to me.” A healthy and honest way to look at it ❤️

“I have no real ability to gauge physical attractiveness in humans.” Michael said: Don’t ever ask me if you looked hot again, Eleanor, it’s icky and I hated that

I love the Mirror Centaur, it’s both a good bit of self-reflection for Tahani and an expansion of the lore

Eleanor and Chidi’s love story is cute but I am threatened by title of the ep (The Worst Possible Use of Free Will)

“There’s no such thing as soulmates, you dingus.” OMG MICHAEL

“It’s a basic reality show playbook. Put a bunch of attractive young people in stressful situations, so they act like idiots and have sex with each other.” ELEANOR EXPLAINING HER FEELINGS AWAY WITH DETERMINISM AND REALITY TV

However, she makes some pretty good points lmao 

I love seeing what they write on these Split-Second Prop Boards LOL:

“What if all YOUR choices are predetermined?” Eleanor said I see your 15-million-point-torture-plan, Michael and raise you one (1) frustrating woman who has studied a lot of philosophy and hates admitting to affection 

“Because if everything is determined and we have no free will, then all this stuff we’re doing to put more good into the world is pointless. And I want to believe that it matters.” MICHAEL ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ WE LOVE ONE (1) DEMON WHO LITERALLY UNDERSTANDS THE MECHANICS OF THE UNIVERSE AND STILL CHOOSES TO HAVE HIS OWN BELIEFS

Omg hey Vicky aka Real Eleanor, long time no see

I have no idea who they’ve cast as the model of Humanity’s Potential for the Good Place in Rural Canada but I am hoping and placing my bet that it’s William Daniels (Mr. Feeny of Boy Meets World)

Update from 10 seconds later: IT’S NOT, IT’S DOUG FORCETT, THE GUY WHO GUESSED MOST OF THE AFTERLIFE

Ggkhgjhgkjh all these reflections on how people help each other to become better, and Janet and Michael choose Doug Pisswater, Friend to Snails, as their new Jesus

I love when Jason and Chidi hang out. It teaches Chidi to chill out!! The lessons go both ways

“When is the right time to tell someone you were passionate lovers in an alternate timeline in the afterlife, but he doesn’t remember because technically none of that happened in this strand of the multiverse?” I feel like this is a better question for Eleanor to ask Janet than Tahani

Hee hee hee, Jason and Chidi bonding is soooo cute:

OMG THIS HAS ESCALATED SO FAST, THE BAR OF DEMONS HAS ARRIVED

Still kills me that Bambadjan is playing Bambadjan

Also, HOW DOES DOUSING A MOLOTOV COCKTAIL IN ALCOHOL NOT ACT AS AN ACCELERANT 

“Screw this. Let’s fight.” YEAHHHHHHHH JANET, GET ‘EM

Honestly, for a show about morality, it has been surprisingly void of fight scenes until now

“Is it just me, or is Janet a straight-up hottie right now?” I gotta applaud Eleanor for her consistency

“I don’t want just any wasp nostrils, I want these wasp nostrils.” I guess Janet and Michael have inadvertently made their friends the most desirable people for the Bad Place because it’s been so hard to keep them in hell LOL

[Kicks Shawn through a portal] “I mean, why let the guy keep saying mean stuff?” Michael and Janet are an unbeatable duo

I love that they’re starting to actually interrogate the system itself:

Season 1: Something is wrong in the Good Place - we will learn about ethics to earn our place here

Season 2: We need to escape the Bad Place - we have learned enough to justify not being punished for moral failures we have made progress on

Season 3: We have escaped death, but now we need to decide what goodness in people actually means, and why we are even subscribing to this model to begin with

Incredibly impressed by D’Arcy Carden’s ability to embody each of the other four main characters. I wonder if they did this shot for shot with the other actors!!!

“So, literally the entire universe is against you.” Poor four humans, caught in the middle of an interdimensional ethical struggle

“If I’m right, we will find proof that the Bad Place is tampering with the points system.” Call me crazy, but I think the underlying issue is the existence of a point system, and I hope there’s something beyond that scope that explains why the afterlife is so fucked up

“We’re in a void, in the body of a white lady--” “Not a lady.” I also love this consistency and Janet’s she-her-and-Not-a-Lady energy

“Let’s all say white people things. ‘Billy Joel.’ ‘I found it on Etsy.’ ‘There was nowhere to park.’ ‘Did you refill the Brita?’” HAHAHAHHAHAHA I also love that 3/4 of the people Janet is embodying are not white. I can’t imagine what I’d do if I died and woke up white. I don’t think I’d do well as a white person

ELEANOR USING THE VOID TO SUMMON A PUPPY FOR CHIDI. I LOVE HOW MANY DOGS CHIDI GETS TO PLAY WITH THIS SEASON, IT’S SO MANY MORE DOGS THAN ANY PREVIOUS SEASON

“Richard Moore of Sugar Land, Texas, hollowed out an eggplant and filled it with hot sauce and nickels.” I don’t know why this is so funny, but it is

Eleanor 🤝 Chidi 

Using philosophy lessons to explain away your feelings

“Just because you don’t remember doing something, doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. I have no idea how it happened, but there is definitely a tattoo on my butt that says, ‘Jasom.’” Jason’s philosophical commentary is both practical and true 

Michael is so mad for humanity not being allowed into the Good Place ❤️‍🩹

I’m now leaning towards the idea that there ISN’T a Good Place. Why haven’t we met anyone from there, expect that one person in that Mindy St. Clair video LOL

“I was just chillin’ being nothing, and then all of a sudden, I was.” Hahahah, Void Pillboi thinks, therefore he is 

“When was the last time someone got into the Good Place?” “The last time someone got into the Good Place was... 521 years ago.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The real question is how Jason-Janet and Eleanor-Janet managed to switch clothing without Chidi-Janet noticing LOL they’re all in one void

[In falsetto] “I’m Chidi, I’m Eleanor, I’m Arizona shrimp horny.” Every line on this show, but especially Jason’s, deserves an Emmy

I just looked it up and this show didn’t receive a SINGLE Emmy? Whack

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WE ARE FINALLY GETTING JASON TO KNOW THAT HE AND JANET WERE MARRIED AGAIN (this is also how I feel when I look at Jason:

“If he’s not gonna to fix this, who is?” “You, Michael.” DEMON FRIEND GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chidi monologuing everything he knows about Eleanor to save her identity because who she is matters so much to him 🥺❤️🥺❤️🥺❤️

I CANNOT BELIEVE WE GOT A SIMULTANEOUS JANET/JANET, ELEANOR/JANET, CHIDI/JANET KISS. INCREDIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOOD FOR THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I need one of you to volunteer to do something outrageously insane that will either make you cease to exist or be really fun.” JASON JASON JASON

HAHAHAHAHAH the immediate follow-up in them realizing it didn’t actually give them any information by having Jason go up the mail tube first

“Holy forking shirtballs. We’re in the Good Place.” WOO, GO TEAM COCKROACH

“What kind of a messed-up place would turn away refugees.” SO many, Jason 

HAHAHAHAH Jason adding insane and bizarre details to their lies, but to be fair in a Good-Place-Accounting-Bad-Place trichotomy I guess it is somewhat believable to be chased by a Dracula with a bazooka

Awwwww now Chidi is comforting Eleanor about her Good Place crisis! You know what that is! Growth

I love Gwendolyn the Good Place Mailwoman With No Follow-Up Questions

“I feel bad that I sort of like, read her diary, and she doesn’t know.” Jason has his own moral code and it incudes minding ya business ❤️

“Why not have our first date four Oreos away from paradise?” Chidi DOES have a romantic bone in his non-corporeal body

“Every single Bad Place employee is a disgusting monster.” Awww, poor Michael

“Are all humans as attractive as you two [Tahani and Jason]?” [Chuckles] “No.” TRUE LMAO HOTTEST FRIENDS

CHIDI DRESSING UP A SEXY MAILMAN FOR THEIR FIRST DATE. BEST BOYFRIEND

How is letting people be tortured for hundreds of years a morally neutral action? I just don’t believe that this version of the Good Place exists

TAHANI MAKING AN DEATH DID US PART CERTIFICATE SO JANET AND JASON DON’T FEEL BURDENED BY THE TAHANI-JASON MARRIAGE. I LOVE THESE FRIENDS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“’There is only one time that is important, now. It is the only time when we have any power.’“ I love Chidi’s philosophy comments that are driven out of love from the people around him. I know he’s quoting Tolstoy but still

“You gotta try.” ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ELEANOR SHELLSTROP, PHILOSOPHER

Eleanor using this as an immediate segue into sex HAHAHAHA

“There are so many unintended consequences to well-intentioned actions. Feels like a game you can’t win.” THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING

TAHANI AND JANET CRYING BECAUSE THEY LOVE THEIR FRIENDS SO MUCH AND JASON CRYING BECAUSE HE LIKES TO BE PART OF THINGS:

“Any chance I can change real quick?” “No.” TIME TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE AS A SEXY MAILMAN, CHIDI

“Do you wanna try being boyfriend-girlfriend?” “I’m not a girl. But yes, I’d very much like to go on a date with you, somewhere, sometime.” JASONJANET IS BACK BAYBEEEEEEEEE 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

“I never yelled at Big Noodle for being late again, because I knew hard it was for him to be there.” I LOVE philosophy lessons with Jason

Michael keeps saying if people don’t agree with him, they can kill him and his homies, as if he has not, at every turn, gotten his friends out of harm’s way every single time someone has wanted to get rid of them, and literally in the same episode said he would throw them into the next dimensional portal to keep trying. Michael said: My moral code is Janet’s ride-or-die protocol

“Also, I guess I’m Black, and they do not like Black ladies down there.” HOW CAN THE ALL-KNOWING JUDGE OF THE UNIVERSE NOT KNOW ABOUT RACISM AND MISOGYNOIR???

“Oh no, you are nobody’s problem, sweetheart.” Finally someone other than Eleanor appreciating Chidi for his looks hahahahah

Jason and Janet are so excellent at communicating their feelings. ALSO I LOVE JEALOUS JASON, RECIPROCITY:

It has not been lost on me this whole time that Janet and Jason, and Chidi and Eleanor, have had to fall in love at least three separate times over three separate universes over three separate seasons. I can’t wait for them to get some time to actually BE in love, together, continuously

Also I hope Tahani finds someone she loves (though gunning for it not to be a white man though LOL)

NOT ELEANOR REQUESTING TO LIVE IN THE TORTURE CLOWN HOUSE ❤️ I ALSO KINDA MISSED IT

OMG NO THAT’S SO SAD, THEY’RE GONNA MAKE THE FOUR HUMANS EXPERIENCE ACTUAL TORTURE (NOT JUST EMOTIONAL TURMOIL) FROM THEIR BEST DEMON BUDDY’S FACE

“It’s going to be so amazing watching your four BFFs look so sad and betrayed and confused, as you, their reformed demon daddy, unleash a swarm of... penis-bees.” EVEN SADDER, THEIR REFORMED DEMON DADDY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 MICHAEL!!!!!!!

Michael experiencing his first panic attack in the very first step of the experiment lmao

HAHAHAHAHAHAH Eleanor immediately jumping in as architect. There were so many better ways to handle this. Just have Janet knock him out again 

“You’re like the Blake Bortles of whatever’s going on right now.” These is a very good compliment from Jason, he holds Eleanor in high esteem

ALSO JASON BEING BACK IN HIS JIANYU OUTFITS HA

NOT JOHN BEING THE PEREZ HILTON OF THE GOOD PLACE

I like that Simone’s back, and I hope she ends up as Tahani’s lover this time around, that’d be fun and a nice way to wrap up the couples

Chidi requesting for a mind-wipe to avoid his ex so he has to fall in love with Eleanor a fourth (FOUR HUNDREDTH) TIME OH MY GOD 

“This is a classic human situation. Your friends are going through something awful, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Harsh but true

“Every time you see me get a stomach-ache, imagine I’m thinking of you.” “So, all the time.” 😭😭😭😭😭

Of this whole romantic montage of all of Eleanor and Chidi’s memories, it’s them on the boat together that got me. Eleanor being part of Chidi’s idea of a perfect day. Something something existing in each other’s comfort zone

I did not expect for anything to make me tear up but Chidi’s voice breaking as he said he was going to miss Eleanor got me

“Time means nothing. Jeremy Bearimy, baby. We’ll get through this, and then you and I will chill out in the dot in the i forever.” Chidi is SO romantic now. That’s growth!!!!!!!!!!

Eleanor and Janet have truly been on the same romantic page this whole time. They have parallel journeys of love and loss

“In the words of the man that I love: I got you dog.” JANET 😭❤️ 

I really do love this show so much