#how to pass a job interview when speaking to people makes you stupid tired and you have social anxiety through the roof

[djtommotomlinson]

if i cant find a job here in the next couple of weeks and get the visa process going and an apartment sorted i am so screwed. i need to go home this summer its been nearly five years since ive been able to and i miss my mum and my dad and my brother but i cant book tickets until i know for sure i can come back for my dogs. this is all getting so hard and all i wanna do is drink and sleep and pretend its okay but i cant do thaaat

[knifefather]

Looking Up at Us [Submission]

'Looking Up at Us

|*| DISCLAIMERS:  Hello! It me! This is my first fic ever. Uhhh, Giorno’s a giant dick and Narancia’s an angel (literally and figuratively :] ) So yandere-ish themes, manipulation, and other mean things. This is a three-year span after the events of VA. |*|'

I APPLAUD YOU ON YOUR FIRST FIC ANON!!! This one really hit me right in the feels :'') Honestly you wrote Giorno so well because I literally wanted to strangle him!! He reminds me so much of Dio here and I fucking love it. I can't believe he stole their song ;a; OP outlined the yandere and manipulation content warnings, but there is also some major character death! Please be warned!

  “Hey, when we get married let’s use that Aerosmith song.”

Narancia laughed as the smaller of the two let out an embarrassed squeal and tried burying her head deeper into his neck. They laid together on his bed in his rather untidy room talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds. But he was always so brash, and making her red was a favorite pastime of his. “Duuude, don’t even joke about that!’” she giggled, “We’re, still, ya know teens,” she emphasized that by flicking her hand around. He continued laughing, tightened his grip on her, and kissed the top of her head. Even if he was teasing the poor girl, he always meant what he said.

“You’d look really pretty in this dress I saw the other day. It wasn’t long as shit like those rich people…” Narancia slowly trailed off realizing she wasn’t responding. When he looked down at her, he saw she wasn’t smiling anymore and looked lost in her own thoughts. He wiggled away from her a little to look at her properly and softly called her name. “Hey, you good?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she looked at him earnestly and caught the poor boy off guard. What was going through that busy head of hers? He was speechless and for a moment he gawked at her. The frenzied teen then added with intensity, “You better stay with me forever and ever and and- I don’t- just… please..” And it finally clicked what she meant, and he gave her his biggest smile.

            “Don’t worry, miele! You’re gonna have to deal with me for a while,” he chimed as he pulled her closer and gave her another peck to her forehead. She looked up at him with watery eyes and smile, “I’d love nothing more. Just promise me, please?

            He leaned lower to kiss her softly on the lips. They both knew that was an impossible promise but still, “I’ll try my best.” He snuggled back up to her and they both slowly sunk back into the previous loving tranquility. They’ll both try, but mafia life was so unpredictable, but it’ll be worth the try if they could stay together.

“So, what are we gonna name our first kid?”

“Narancia Ghirga!!”

“Yeah, Mrs. Ghirga?” Narancia couldn’t stop laughing even as he was shoved off the bed.

              Three months. It’s been three months, but his voice still rings in her head. His goofy smile, bubbly laughter, his smothering hugs were all nothing but distant memories that no longer warmed her, but instead chilled her core. Their places where they caused mischief and held impromptu dates only held ghosts of what was and what could have been. These thoughts haunted her every waking moment. Even when she slept, they caused nothing but sweet dreams that left her bitter and empty in the morning. But Narancia wasn’t the only one she missed dearly. Finding Abbacchio in the state he was and running back full of hope to the colosseum only to find out Bruno was the final victim. But thanks to him, they find out he was actually the first. Giorno had admitted after their discovery that they had been travelling with a reanimated corpse. At the time her, Mista, Trish, were too busy crying to even care.

            For the new Don’s first year, she was present. When Fugo returned, she welcomed him with open arms. She stayed for as long as could but looking at Giorno mad her sick. Violence and anger grew inside by just being around him and his voice made her gag. Staying there brought her closer to the edge as she struggled between collapsing into tears or killing her Don in a fiery fit. That’s when she distanced herself from everyone. Of course, it worried Fugo and Mista to death when the last surviving member of their gang suddenly went off the radar. Even if it was for the wellbeing of everyone there, it didn’t sit right with anyone. Especially Giorno Giovanna.

             The two-year absence was hell, for her anyways. At first jobs would take her resumes and interviews, but soon they would turn her away at sight of her face or sound of her voice. Her temporary apartment kicked her out and hotels refused service to the point she was forced to either stay in motels or rent somewhere for a while until they too kicked her out. When people started to whisper and gossip as she passed by, that was the final straw. It was lonely. It was frustrating! Was it because of the mafia association? No, that should guarantee a decent job and place to stay. And then it clicked. The root of her problems lies at the head of Passione.

              So, here the young woman stood in front of him, arms wrapped securely around herself, as Mista stood watching them at the closed entrance. Giorno’s grown, nearly six feet and obviously physically stronger than before. She squeezed tighter hoping to mimic Narancia’s hugs as she tried to gather her courage and find the words. For a while it was suffocating silence as no one dared to speak first. They were both strategizing, planning how to attack and counter the other’s words. But finally, the devil’s replacement spoke, “Hello, tersoro. I’m glad to see you’re-“

“Cut the crap. I know what’re you doing. Stop it.” And with that she turned to leave. Mista stepped out the way to let her go until a soft laugh stopped her, “Are you still torn up about them? Really?” She stopped and slowly turned to face him. She finally snapped.

            “Are you serious?” She spat at him. “Why wouldn’t I be upset that you killed my friends? My family?!”

            “The love of your life?” She glared at the blonde as he had the audacity the smile at the thought of their deaths. In that moment, she wanted to kill him. Her stand was at the ready. Mista didn’t even attempt to reach for his gun as he knew she wouldn’t do something stupid like that, but he, too, thought of shooting Giorno as well. Giorno tsked and slowly walked around his desk to lean against the front of it, showing just how little her threat meant to him. “My dear, you don’t understand. They were steppingstones to help change Passione for the greater good.”

“Steppingstones?! Don’t act like their bodies were your path to “greatness”! What exactly have you fixed, huh? There are SEVEN more assassin squads. You haven’t stopped drugs like you promised Bruno. Instead, you’ve barely stopped selling it kids ten and under! Don’t act like they were your sacrifices!”  The rage burned inside her, and she could no longer control her words. “Why did they have to go to heaven, huh?! They deserve to be here, not you! Bruno should be where you are! Leone should’ve left you die! Narancia should be back in school! It’s all your FAULT!” They both lunged at Giorno only for GER to grab the opposing stand and for Giorno to effortlessly grabbed her fist. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist and the other then swooped in and tilted her head up to kiss her ever so softly.

            “My, my such a temper,” he murmured, “I’ve always loved that about you.” In that moment all the fire that was built up for years turned ice cold, as fear gripped her insides. She wasn’t expecting this strength. Wide eyes stared up into the unnatural turquoise of his. He slowly turned her head from side to side, as if examining her. “You poor thing. You look so tired and overworked,” and she was. “I bet those horrible businesses could see it on you. Turned you away like street trash. Poor, poor thing.” The young woman’s voice had left her as she tried to process everything. Just what was he planning?

            “D-Don’t act like you didn’t do all that crap to me” She hated the sudden stutter in her voice but was thankful words even came out. The young woman started fighting in his grip which caused him to tighten. “Let me go! What was that kiss?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” But she was only met with a chuckle. As he spun her around and pressed her back against his chest. “My dear, I was only trying to bring back what was mine. Tesoro, mia. So independent. We’ll have to break that.” She fought harder and let out a cry of pain as Giorno dug his fingernails in the meat of her cheeks, getting annoyed at her fighting spirit.

            “Now, I want you to listen to listen to me. I really don’t want to repeat myself,” he nipped her neck, “nor do I want to hurt more than I should.” Giorno leaned closer and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ve loved you for too long to let you get away and whore around like you did with him.”  He shoved her to the ground and held her there with his foot, pressing harder with every squirm. “Go against me, and your little angelo will be dug up, burned, and flushed down a portable. Or maybe I’ll finish off the rest of your gang.” She struggled to look up at him as he glared down at her. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he spoke again, “Whose to say mafioso even go to heaven, hm? My sweet, delusional darling.” Giorno dropped to the floor and scooped her up in his arms again hugging her tightly. She was too scared to fight back. Not knowing what would set him off. He quietly laughs at how broken the poor woman was. So easy to break in already.

            “Let me take care you. Love you. Cherish you like you deserve. You’ll learn to love me.” He gripped her arms in a bruising grasp and whispered dangerously smooth, “Or you’ll die trying.”

___________________________________________

Her wedding gown shimmered and swayed gently as she and her new husband made their way to the center of the dance floor. Each step weighted heavy on her heart as the gravity of it all grew. Their movements were calculated and coordinated, just like everything else because it was all artificial for her. There was no true love, no true feelings in this forced arrangement. No more fight in her dull eyes that refused to make eye contact with anyone because then they would see just how much he’s broken her in just a year. One wrong move will surely be the one she’ll ever make.

No one in the ballroom could see the despair ripping away whatever dignity was left as she wrapped her arms around his neck or the bile she choked back as he greedily slipped his arms around her waist. If only she could keep tightening her arms like a noose until he was no more but a horrid memory. The room was filled with ‘awws’ and loving gazes as the couple settled gracefully into the position they had practiced many a times before. She finally turned her emotionless gaze to him. Giorno Giovanna chuckled at her. His new wife was so dramatic.

“And now the newly weds will share their first dance together!” someone, who she didn’t care enough to learn their name, announced as if he was getting paid on his excitement and not on the fact if he squealed, he gets killed. She closed her eyes as the crowd cheered, swallowed her sickness, and sighed. She made it this long without throwing up or crying, she can get through this dance.

 “The groom has picked this song out specifically for his new, beautiful wife. Isn’t that romantic?” The crowd cheered and clapped in blissful ignorance at the display of affection. The bride’s eyes snapped open at this new revelation and stared in shock at Giorno who only smiled. But when the music began, her heart finally burst. Tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks as that Aerosmith song, their song, played and she was forced to move to its now bittersweet beat. Giorno’s wife shakily looked up at him and chocked on her tears.  Once again, chuckled and lean in to whisper with honeyed venom his final victory,

“Oh miele, I bet he’s looking up at us right now, amore mio.”

(OK Tumblr formatting is weird but I wanna add: Yes it Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that Narancia and darling picked as their first dance which Girono stole. And Narancia was the only one allowed to call darling Miele as an inside joke for “Honey! I’m Home”. Also WHY WAS THIS 2K+???)

[t-lostinworlds]

I’ve Got You, Always (Tom Holland)

A/N: This has been sitting in my draft for a lil bit and I just got around to finish it. Also, this may seem rushed, which it is, kind of, but I hope you guys still like it <3

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Summary: An interviewer asked you a topic that was off limits which prompted a panic attack and Tom decides to step in.

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of past trauma, panic attack, and angry tom but with fluff in the end.

Word Count: 2.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

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You were sat inside a room across an empty chair with the microphone all hooked up. A movie poster showing only your face — looking all horrified and troubled — was right behind you as the official one stood on the opposite side, right beside where the interviewer would be seated.

Two cameras stood on its rightful places for two continuous shots, accompanied by big blaring lights that illuminated the whole room. There were a maximum of six people occupying the space to make sure everything was working just fine and that the interviews go as smoothly as they could.

It's the last press for the day and you were more than relieved.

Not necessarily dreadful — you love your job — but it is draining doing junket, especially when you've been doing it for hours on end. Redundant questions are inescapable and they usually turn boring after countless times of repeating, but you answer them as thoughtful as you can anyway, being that you're the most proud of this movie.

You're always thankful for the interviewers who spice things up a little, make it more interesting than the whole simple question, simple answer routine. Even more so if they get to ask a genuinely good question that would pick your brain to tell more about the movie.

However, you didn't expect the last interview to be quite different from the others, but not in a way that you'd like it to be.

"Hi I'm Jim, nice to meet you." A guy, looking like he's on his late-20s, offered you a hand, which you shook politely with a smile. "Y/N, nice to meet you too."

And just as Jim prepped himself for the interview the door opens, your head turning instinctively to see Tom making his way inside with Harry right on his tail.

Catching your eyes, Tom flashed you a slightly tired yet relieved smile; relieved to finally get to see your beautiful face after such a long day. You were just the same as you felt yourself relax with a sigh, your heart melting as Tom gave you a cute wave, blowing you a sweet kiss before he found a place to sit just beside your agent.

Comic-con was just across the hotel that you're doing junket at, Tom spending all day there to promote his own movie as well. You were lucky enough that your schedule and location managed to tie in together, hence why he's here at the moment. Maybe his day ended earlier than expected and you were glad, excited to spend time with him after you're finished.

"Right, we ready?" The voice made you tear your eyes away from your boyfriend and back to the person in front of you, just in time to see him putting the familiar piece of paper down, one that's been passed on from interviewer to interviewer.

"Ready." You answered with a nod, throwing an upturned thumb for good measure.

"Recording."

"I'm Jim for HBC and today we are joined by the star of the upcoming movie The Cry, Y/N L/N, how are you?" Jim started before turning to face you with a smile. You nodded with a grin in return. "I'm good thank you."

"Now, the last few films you've done were romantic comedies or light-hearted films in general, how did it feel to do a complete 180 and star in a much different film this time around?" Jim asked.

You crossed your legs with a hum. "It felt interesting and quite challenging for sure but I'm glad to have taken up this opportunity because now I get to push myself to see how far I can go, and how much I can do be able to broaden my range as an actor."

"What's the difficult part about filming the movie?"

"I think for me, filming wasn't as difficult as the after? I was never good with horror movies when I was a child, I get so scared so easily so coming home after shooting was tough. During filming was fine because there are a lot of people and distractions and you know it's not real but after filming, when you get home and then you start thinking about what the whole scene actually was? It gets scary. I keep looking behind my back all the time and I definitely slept with the lights on." You giggled with a shake of your head, keeping the tone of the interview as casual and calm, that, until Jim got to his next question.

He sat straighter, eyes narrowing slightly as he turned the piece of paper in his hand. "Speaking of childhood, with what I've researched, I've noticed how you don't speak much about your family, why is that?"

You blinked in shock, totally caught off guard as you tried to wrap your head around his question. "I'm sorry?"

He did read the paper that was given to him right?

"Your family, how do they feel seeing you in this massive but jarring movie? What do they think of it? Or do they not know that you've got a movie coming out?" Jim was trying to act nonchalant about it, but it was clear as day what he was trying to do, trying to pry out what would make people talk and click on his interview: some drama.

"I—uhm, I'm not comfortable with that topic. I can't answer it, I'm sorry." You tried to laugh it off, but the sound only came out forced, fingers picking at the material of your jeans as the atmosphere in the room was quick switch, turning unpleasant, awkward.

Jim didn't seem to notice this though, or he did and he just simply didn't care as he kept at it with the topic. "Why not? This movie, after all, is a family movie."

It wasn't.

It's a horror movie. There's a family in it sure, but his question still doesn't correlate with the plot of the movie at all.

You cleared your throat as you shifted in your seat, eyes darting around, glancing at Tom for only a split second, the lad just noticing your agitated state being that he was slightly distracted, talking with Harry about something.

"Can we move on, please?" Your voice was soft, controlled even, but your palms were turning clammy by the second, counting inside your head as you tried your best to keep your breathing even.

Jim only hummed at that, head tilted to the side as he asked, without precaution whatsoever. "Why? Did something traumatic happen?"

That's when you felt your throat tightly close up, darkness slowly creeping in your mind, heart hammering, hard against your chest at the memory, tears prickling in your eyes as you gasp for air.

"I—I'm s-sorry, I can't—" You looked around the room for help and your gaze immediately landed on Tom who was already sitting on the edge of his seat. His eyes were coated with utter worry when it locked with yours, and he didn't waste any time as he made his way towards you hurriedly once he took in the look of pure dread and panic on your face.

"Take the mic off her." Tom spoke through gritted teeth as he helped you stand up, voice deep in anger, the sound man quickly fumbling with the wires to help get the mic off of you.

Tom held your face with both hands, your trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist for support once he did so. He felt his heart break when he saw your eyes shut tight, tears already streaming down your cheeks as your tried to catch your breath. And to see you in utter distraught because of some douche who wants a clickable headline? It made his blood fucking boil.

"Harry—" Tom didn't need to finish his sentence as his brother got the drift real quick, Harry throwing a protective arm over your shaking form as he guided you out of the room.

"No. You, sit back down. I'd like to have a word with you." Tom growled, glare dead set on Jim once he saw him slowly get out of his seat.

Tom's jaw was clenched as he took your place and sat on the chair right across Jim, arms crossed over his chest with a look of pure disdain on his features. "Right, I believe you were given a piece of paper."

"I—uh, this one?" Jim fumbled, handing Tom a piece of paper to which the lad snatched, gave it a quick read before handing it back to him.

"Yes, that's the one. Now tell me, what does it say? Can you read that out for me?" Tom said coolly, but his eyes were shooting daggers at the man in front of him, leg bouncing to try and rid just a little bit of anger off his body.

Jim cleared his throat and did as told. "It says uh, 'Kindly refrain from asking questions about her family. Thank you.'"

Tom nodded with a scoff. "Glad to know you can read mate."

With a deep, sharp intake of breath, Tom leaned forward, jaw tight as he pressed his palms together. "You think it's okay to press that question on her when she clearly was uncomfortable? Do you think she has that piece of paper handed over to each interviewer just for fucking fun Jim?"

If looks could kill, Jim would've been on the floor seconds ago, and clearly he felt that as he started to cower under Tom's gaze. "I'm sorry, I just asked questions."

"Well clearly you asked the wrong ones. She kindly requested you to move on, she told you she wasn't comfortable with the topic and what exactly did you do? You asked her about it some more! She's here to talk about the movie and promote the movie, not her life." Tom seethed, face red from rage with his nostrils flaring to match. He wanted to be civil about it, to be calm and collected but it just angered him so much knowing the pain that you were reminded of because of how stupid and disrespectful a person can be.

"Y/N is such a sweetheart, such a kind soul and I'm not going to sit here and let you take advantage of that for fucking views or clicks or whatever the fuck you were trying to gain from this. Even the fact that you're trying to gain something from someone's trauma, you should be ashamed of yourself."

Tom was aware that maybe the camera was still rolling, and that this could go out to the internet and make him look like an asshole but he could careless, he wasn't in the wrong. He was so fed up with these so called journalists who only care about clickbaity headlines and drama filled stories for good profit more than delivering the actual truth of the story. If they cross a line, then they need to be put back in place, especially when it's affecting someone who he cares so much about.

Before Tom could add another word Harry butted in. "Tom—"

"I'm not yet done here Harry." The older brother grumbled, eyes still glued on Jim who was looking everywhere but at him.

"She needs you."

That was all it took for Tom to calm back down, shooting Harry a nod and standing up from his place. But before leaving, he gave Jim one last pointed look.

"We do these interviews to talk about our craft, not our personal life. People's private lives are none of your business. It's not yours to meddle with, not yours to gain profit from. If you can't seem to understand that simple logic then you're just a dumb dickhead."

With that, Tom followed Harry outside the room, his heart shattering once he saw you sat on a chair, head hanging low as your body still raked with sobs, slight guilt consuming him for not being with you sooner.

Tom rushed in front of you, crouching down as he tried to search for your eyes.

"Darling, hey, it's me, look at me." He coed, hands gently cupping your face to make you look up, his worry ever growing to see your eyes still screwed shut, tears endlessly flowing down your cheeks, chest heaving fast as you try to take a hold of your breath.

"Open those beautiful eyes for me baby, look at me." Slowly, you willed yourself to open your eyes, meeting brown orbs filled with nothing but concern, though the familiar gaze made you felt calmer, safer.

Gently, Tom took both your hands and pressed it, palms flat on his chest, a reassuring smile on his lips as he whispered. "Breathe with me angel. In and out, breathe in through the nose, and out of the mouth. That's it darling." He repeated over and over, his tone kind, patient.

You followed Tom's soft voice, never breaking his gaze that was grounding you back to earth, the feeling of the steady beat of his heart against your palm, slowing down the fast pace of your own heart.

Once you felt calmer, a little more collected, You leaned forward as you wrapped your arms around him, face buried on the crook of his neck with small sobs.

"I'm right here. You're safe." Tom muttered against your hair, hand rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, his embrace warm and secure, his arms your safe place, he was your safe place.

"Thank you." You whispered against his skin with a sniffle, Tom giving you a gentle squeeze in response.

"I've got you, always."

Hearing those words filled you up with warmth, filling you up with reassurance knowing that you could always count on him, that you'll always have him, no matter what, and you'll forever be grateful for that.

Pulling away slightly, Tom flashed you a sweet, reassuring smile, placing a soft peck on your lips before speaking. "Let's go back to our room yeah? I'll run you a warm bath, we'll watch any movie you want, then pizza and ice cream for dinner. Sounds good?"

You nodded with a small smile of your own, Tom standing up fully and offering you both his hands to hold, which you took gladly as he helped you back up your feet, keeping you close by his side as you walked back to your room.

With his arm over your shoulder you leaned your weight on him. Not afraid to lean all your trust on him, all your love because you know, with every fibre of your being, in the deepest depths of your heart and soul:

He's got you, always.

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Like, Reblog & Leave a Comment if you enjoyed! Tell me your thoughts! <3

Tom H. Taglist: @spacebitch2​ @hollanddolanfangirl @keepingupwiththehollands @hollandstea

[mashup-writing]

If only you were here; Hwang Yeji (ITZY)

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Summary: Yeji was the leader, she couldn't afford to be seen being anything less than perfect for the role. No crying, being sad, or feeling any kind of negativity. But she's only human, and being human means letting your emotions run through you.

Requested? ☒

"Miles away from seeing you."

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She was exhausted. Today's schedule was nothing but hectic, from interviews to filming for music videos. All Yeji had wanted to do was be with her girlfriend, to have her take away the stress, to run her fingers through her hair, to hold her like doing so was the only thing keeping her together. But with Y/N visiting her hometown? The best she could do was a facetime.

She loved her job, her members, and their MIDZYs. She really does. But sometimes the high life takes more from you than it gives. Lately her girls have been facing prejudiced hate from a bunch of ruthless people online. Lia was being branded as "Lazy" and it made the leader's blood boil, among all five of them Lia was the one who spends the most time in the practice room, especially when she has trouble with some of the choreography. She remembers a memory of theirs that included Lia almost passing out of exhaustion in the practice room, Yeji herself wasn't enough to pull the pale and sluggish girl out of there. If Yuna's maturity and hidden stern-ness hadn't reared their heads then she has no doubt that Lia would've ended up in a hospital bed.

Chaeryeong is under fire for "Being Ugly" and all Yeji could do was scoff at the stupidity of the false accusation. Despite Yeji being Y/N's girlfriend, Chaeryeong was the latter's bias. This information had her shocked, Chaeryeong smug, and worst of all: It gave Ryujin a field day. Which resulted in getting the other three members in on teasing her. "Anyone who catches Y/N's eye is fucking beautiful" she mutters to herself. Not to toot her own horn but Y/N has an eye not only for gorgeous looking people, most times those she ends up liking are great people with great personalities. Your ex, Ahn Hyejin of Mamamoo is a damn great example of that.

Another one of her members under fire is Yuna, the baby of their new little family. Knets had a field day when it was found out that the Maknae wasn't originally planned to become a part of ITZY. Jumping on the chance to poke at the youngest's insecurity, thry took to saying that she wasn't good enough to be with them, much less have debuted at all. That's bullshit, and she won't leave room for argument. Yuna is the glue that holds them together, the friend that they can't imagine not having even when they've been a group for less than a year. She stands up to Yeji without being disrespectful when the leader is being too strict or controlling. She pulls Lia out of her workaholic state whenever it starts to become detrimental instead of beneficial. She is the one carrying Ryujin's ass whenever the latter thinks her dad jokes are funny. She's the one to calm Chaeryeong down backstage whenever the latter is feeling nervous, anxious or on the verge of a breakdown.

Ryujin's a reliable friend through and through, but if the fate of the world was decided by the rapper's ability to tell a funny joke? Yeji bets that they all would've died ages ago, she's better at joking around with actions than she is with words. Which leads to some people labeling some of Ryujin's actions as "Bullying". Yeji admits to herself that, yes. To the untrained eye it does seem as if Ryujin's the type, she has the face of a villain when she wants to look intimidating after all. But the rapper is also the softest person she has ever known in her life, testified by the one time they had a pillow fight in the dorm. In the heat of the moment, Ryujin's slipper got thrown and it knocked a Lizard dead off their wall. The pillow fight abruptly ended with four members trying to make her feel less guilty over the critter's untimely death.

Lia interjected that had the moment been captured on camera, some MIDZYs would be making a meme of how they'd like to be that "Lucky" lizard. Ryujin cried harder, because the lizard was not at all "Lucky" in her opinion.

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Yeji was so lost in her own thoughts and so fatigued that she didn't even realize that she had finished changing from her performance outfit to the clothes she wore before clocking in for work. It was only when she had closed the door to her dorm room did she realize how tired she actually was. She was thankful she had been given her own room instead of bunking with someone else again, she's not too sure she could make it up in a bunk bed if she was still roommates with someone.

She crashes onto the bed and pulls out her phone. Most days she would get some shut eye and just facetime her girlfriend in the morning, but at the moment she thinks she'll end up in a mental ward if she goes another second without hearing her Y/N speak. So despite the fact that she can't feel her legs anymore and that her eyelids are growing heavier by the second, she calls.

Ring

Ring

Ring

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Ring

Ring

Ring

You're pulled from the coziest and most comfortable sleep you've fallen into for the night by a constant ringing. You rub your eyes and turn towards your nightstand where your phone is located. "Who in their right fucking mind would be calling at this hour?" You grab your phone and the caller photo snaps you out of your mood before you even see the caller's name.

You hurriedly turn on your lamp on the nightstand and then proceeded to hit answer. "YEJ- whoa, not that I'm unhappy to see you but you look like you should be asleep instead. You look tired as hell Yej. Did you eat yet? How about water? Please stay away from dehydration and be sure to drink regularly." Yeji smiles at you, with her eyes drooping every now and then. "Yeah, I should be asleep but I just missed you so much I couldn't sleep without seeing you first."

You sit up and lean against the head board instead of laying down, your worry increasing tenfold. "What's wrong?" Yeji knows how to prioritize her health first and she never calls you half asleep because she had always claimed that you deserved nothing less than her full attention. She never calls you half asleep unless she's alarmingly close to losing her composure. Her eyes widen as soon as the question leaves your mouth, and a sniffle makes its way through the line. She burried her face in her arm and struggles with wanting to tell you and wanting to fake being strong with you.

You sense the dilemma within your girl and you refuse to let her carry this alone. "Hey, I'd never force you to spill. But I am always gonna be here to listen to your troubles. I already know how strong you are, you've got nothing more to prove. Let it out and I'll be here to support you." Yeji's resolve crumbles and she cries as she tells you everything that's been weighing her down today. She cries because of the unfairness of it all, she cries about how she can't protect her girls, she cries about how she wants nothing more than to wrap them up in a hug and not let go until they're all better but the girls just like their leader want to seem strong and untouchable for each other.

Yeji cries about how she wishes she was with you instead of working, she cries about how guilty she feels for sometimes wishing that they never had to go through the unfairness that the idol life had to offer, she cries about how she feels like she's disappointing the MIDZYs for feeling as she feels. She cries because it's just the start of their journey and she's already so tired. She cries because it's the only way she knows how to get rid of the stress, even if it's just a temporary solution.

What hurts you the most is that she doesn't look at you as she says this. You're a MIDZY after being Yeji's girlfriend and it you don't miss the way she chokes up even more when she said she feels like she's disappointing the fandom. You let your girlfriend let it all out before taking a moment to pull yourself together, and then you speak.

"I can't and I won't tell you that I understand how you feel as an Idol because I'm not one. But as a MIDZY, I can and I will tell you that you were born to be the leader of ITZY, no one else could step up to that role as well as you do even if they tried. Tell the girls I told you to let the haters run their mouths, because we MIDZYs know that each and every one of you brings something special to the table. ITZY isn't ITZY if it doesn't have Hwang Yeji, Choi Jisu, Shin Ryujin, Lee Chaeryeong and Shin Yuna as the members. You girls are a fucking unit and you are all strong enough to knock those bitches speechless."

You stare at Yeji the whole time and notice that although her body has stopped shaking, her tears are still making their way down her cheeks. You take in every detail of her face and wish with everything within you that you were there with her to wipe her tears and hold her close. In your opinion, words aren't enough but you suppose due to the distance between you two that you've gotta work with what you have at the moment. Right now all you have are feelings and words.

"Now as your girlfriend." Yeji's head adjusts enough that you could see half of her face, but the other half still remains buried in her arm. "I'm telling you that you can never disappoint me." She chuckles in humor before turning her gaze away from her phone. "You don't know that, I'm not perfect-"

"I never said you were."

Silence sits between the two of you. Not once in your whole relationship had you intentionally interrupted Yeji when she was speaking, you strongly believed that everyone deserved a chance to speak their piece. But that had exceptions. Such as now. "I never said you were perfect, because you're not. You're human and you have your flaws but believe me when I say that you could never disappoint me, despite the fact that humans weren't designed to be perfect you still work on yourself everyday trying to polish all the rough edges, trying to better yourself not for anyone or anything but yourself because you really want to be better than you were in the past. How could I be disappointed in someone as noble as that?"

You notice that she's now actively fighting to keep her eyes open and you smile. "You okay for now?" She nods and you continue. "Then go to sleep, God knows you both need and deserve a good night's rest. I'll call you back tomorrow when you wake up, so you can tell me about everything else your sleep addled brain forgot to tell me tonight."

Yeji uncovers the other half of her face and eyes stare at her screen that shows your face, now more than ever she wishes she was there with you, to thank you and hold you for everything you've said and for the way you've calmed her down. She promises herself that once you meet back up in person, she'll make it up to you. But for now words will have to do.

"Thank you Y/N. I love you."

Your smile grows wider and Yeji swears she's ready to make a fool out of herself just to ensure that that smile never fades away from your face. You take your a moment to memorize the candid details of Yeji's face before replying. "I love you too Yeji. Good night." Both of you wave goodbye and as heavy of an action it was, you take the initiative to end the call because you know that if you left it up to your girlfriend she would never hit that End Call button.

--------------------------------------------------

Yeji places her phone on the nightstand by her bed.

Y/N lies back down properly on the bed.

The two stare straight ahead of them, eyes unfocused.

They take a deep breath before closing their eyes, ignoring the need that courses through their hearts.

"I'll be with her soon enough."

--------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶--------------------

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've written on this app? Why the hell is there too little ITZY content on this app? it feels like drought istg 😭😭

[your-eternal-muse]

She’s Got You Mesmerized

Heather Series Part Four

Part One Part Two Part Three

Summery: Reader is getting sick and tired of keeping everything inside. So, she lets him know exactly how she feels. Well, not exactly.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader

Warnings: Beginning of Nicotine addiction (please don’t smoke), swearing, mention of manipulation, Heather being a straight BITCH

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Not much to say here except that I’m the one writing Heather, and I hate her guts. I need a bitchy last name to give her. Any ideas? 

~~~~

I’ve never been one to smoke.

I did it when I was in high school to appear “cool”, but I dropped the habit after graduation.

I never really liked the taste, and no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up smelling like it just a little bit.

But I understand why people smoke.

Rebel against their parents.

Need something to do to catch a break at work.

Relieve stress.

I fall into the last category, the nicotine in my veins like a blanket of calm over me, as I dial the same number for the 8th time in the past hour.

As it rings in my ear, I bring the cigarette resting between my fingers up to my mouth, taking a long drag in.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

BEEP.

“Spencer, the jet was supposed to leave 40 minutes ago. Hotch is pissed, and quite frankly, so am I. I get you’re getting married in three months, but if you could maybe take your dick out of her for a second, and remember you have a job to do, that’d be great.”

Click.

One last drag before putting it out underneath my heel and climbing aboard the jet.

“Anything?” Hotch asks, looking up from the file in his hand.

I shake my head, sitting down next to JJ, and dialing his number one more time.

“If he’s not on this plane within the next five minutes, we're leaving without him.”

BEEP.

I hold it up directly to my mouth. 

“Pick up your fucking phone and get your ass here!”

Click.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the effects of the cigarette already leaving me.

JJ pats my leg, looking over the file again.

I couldn’t help my sour mood today, or the past month for that matter.

Every attempt I made to just resume being his friend, and get over myself, he’s ducked out at the last second.

“Heather wants me to go cake tasting with her.”

“I’m sorry, I agreed to stay in with Heather.”

“Heather isn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d stay home and take care of her.”

Sometimes he doesn’t even give one.

Sometimes he doesn’t even show.

Finally, right before the stairs are about to lift, Spencer appears, out of breath and disheveled.

“I’m so sorry. My phone died.”

Bullshit. It rang. You declined it.

“The hickey on your neck says otherwise.” Derek says from his seat, looking over the edge of the file up at him.

Spencer’s face turns red, knowing he got caught, his hand coming to rest over the fresh bruise.

I smirk a little.

“Spencer, I know you’re getting married, but you’re still a part of this team. Please try and remember that.” Hotch is stern, clearly agitated that we’re so behind schedule.

Spencer sets his bag down, and begins to read through the material.

It’s a relatively simple case, two bodies, same M.O., and Garcia already found a connection between the two victims.

We’ll be home within a few days.

And then Spencer can go back to avoiding me for whatever reason he’s not telling me.

When we land two hours later, Hotch splits the team up, having me and Spencer go back to the station and start on the geographical profile.

He won’t meet my eyes since listening to my voicemails.

He’s a smart boy. He knows I’m right.

When we get there, a detective leads us to a small conference room, and I thank him before setting down my stuff. 

A couple of cardboard evidence boxes are sitting on the table, and I start to remove the contents, placing them in piles on the table.

I don’t look at him.

I don’t speak to him.

Because I’m not entirely sure I won’t break down crying when I do.

I wasn’t as angry as I was upset.

I promised myself that the one thing that wouldn’t change, was our friendship. I’d still be his best friend, and he’d still be mine.

But even that seems to be changing and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I start taping up pictures of the victims and their wounds to the clear board, while he starts pinning up a map on the bulletin board beside mine.

The air is tense.

“You’re angry.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“How could you tell Spencer? Was it my cold shoulder or how I won’t meet your eye?” I begin writing down the notes we made while on the jet underneath the photos.

“Look, I know I was late. Unbelievably late. I should have told her no.”

“But you didn’t.” I slap the marker down on the table, turning to look at him head on, crossing my arms.

“No. I didn’t. I didn’t because-”

“Because you didn’t want to. You’re a guy, Spencer. When a pretty girl tells you she wants to fuck you, you can’t resist.”

I’m trying not to think about it.

About him fucking her.

How badly I wish it were me.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“But I’m not angry about that Spencer. You want to fuck your fiance, fine, there are less normal things to do,” I take a step forward. “No, I’m angry because every time I call you, you decline it, when you used to pick up before it even began ringing.”

Tears prick my eyes.

You stupid bitch, I told you not to cry!

“I’m angry because I haven’t had lunch with you for the past month and a half. I’m angry that you don’t even bother calling to tell me you won’t be able to make it, you just don’t show up!”

His eyes are sad, and I know that this isn’t helping anything.

I know that I should say ‘forget it’ and turn back to the case, but I can’t.

“I miss you, Spencer. I miss you and I don’t know what I’ve done to make you avoid me.”

“You did-”

His phone starts to ring.

I’m going to throw that thing across the fucking room.

He takes it out of his pocket, and I briefly see her picture before he slides his thumb over decline.

“She does realize you’re still an agent of the BAU, right? And isn’t she a teacher? Shouldn’t she be in school right now?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, I promise. It’s just-”

His phone rings again.

Fuck this.

“I’m going out for a smoke. Talk to her. She’s obviously not going to stop until you do.”

I grab my bag off the table and walk out into the main space, finding my way out of the building and into the street.

I find a bench not too far away and sit down, digging through my bag and producing my pack of cigarettes and my lighter, placing one between my lips and lighting up.

You’re losing him. He doesn’t even want you as a friend anymore. You’re worthless. Worthless. WORTHLESS.

If I could punch the voice in my head, I would.

It’s kinda ironic, though. 

It sounds like Heather.

I take a deep drag and inhale, keeping the smoke in my lungs for a moment before exhaling.

My mind starts to go fuzzy and before I know it, it’s done.

I don’t have time for another one, so I sigh, getting up and throwing the bud into a nearby trash can.

I walk back through the building and up to the conference room, preparing myself for the next couple of hours, but I hear voices, and I pause.

I peek around the corner of the door frame, and into the room.

Spencer has his back to me, his phone in one hand, marker in the other.

“-best friend, Heather. She’s been my best friend for the past 8 years. Not seeing her is affecting our relationship. Don’t you trust me?”

I hear a sigh come from the phone. He has it on speaker.

“I trust you, okay? It’s her I don’t trust. Look, I like her. I think she’s sweet, but I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

“You still won’t tell me how she supposedly looks at me.” He’s annoyed, his fist wrapping around the marker.

Trouble in paradise?

“She looks at you like she’s in love with you. And I don’t like it. That’s why I don’t want you seeing her anymore. I’m afraid that she’s gonna do something and ruin everything.”

That. Bitch.

“She’s not going to do anything. Don’t you think if she had feelings for me, she would have done something by now? Baby, you have nothing to worry about. She’s my family, like how you’re my family.”

He pauses.

“I love her.”

“But not like you love me right?”

I’m about to beat this gas lighting bitch into the next century.

“Different kind of love.” His voice is quiet, and he’s looking down at the floor, and I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break anymore than it already has. But I can feel the already broken pieces shatter.

He doesn’t love you like he loves her. He just said so. You’re nothing compared to her.

“Just making sure. We’ll talk more later. The lunch period is almost over. Love you!”

“I love you, too.”

He hangs up the phone, and shoves it back into his pocket, still not aware of my presence as I move to stand fully in the doorway.

“So that’s why you’re avoiding me? Because Heather told you too!?”

The tears pricking my eyes are hot, and rage builds in my stomach.

He turns, surprise slapped across his face.

“Y/N-”

“If Hotch asks you, you’re going to tell him that you didn’t need my help, that you told me I could go help JJ. Clear?”

His mouth opens and closes, and his shoulders slouch, as he nods his head, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Good. Oh, and Spencer?” 

He looks up at me.

“Don’t forget that you had a life before her, and that just because she’s a part of it now, doesn’t mean she’s the only part.”

With that I turn, walking back out into their bullpen, spotting JJ sitting on a desk, talking to someone on the phone.

The call finishes as I walk up to her.

“He-, what’s wrong? You’re crying.” She stands, placing a hand on my arm. 

“I’ll tell you tonight at the hotel. But Spencer doesn’t need my help, so I thought I could come help you interview the families.”

Please help me.

She nods, understanding. “The family of the first victim is already here. Let’s go.”

We pass by the conference room where Spencer resides, and the door is closed.

We walk by, and the blinds are open, revealing him arguing into his phone.

They’re arguing over you. You destroy things everywhere you go.

I keep walking.

~~~~

Three days later, we’re heading home.

It’s late, and my team is asleep around me, even if it is only for a few hours.

I can’t seem to find sleep so easily.

Instead, I settle for reading the same page of my book, over and over again.

You know. For fun.

However, I am not the only one awake.

Spencer stands and quickly makes his way towards my end of the jet.

He sits next to me, his own book in hand.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just sitting and staring at me.

“Whatcha reading?”

I close the book over my finger, keeping my spot while showing him the cover so that he can read the title.

Warm Bodies, By Isaac Marion.

My favorite.

“I should have known. It’s your comfort book. You read it when you need a break.”

I flip it back open and continue scanning the page.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

I huff, placing my bookmark in the crook of the spine, and closing it louder than I probably should have.

I look at him, and I almost apologize for my behavior.

He looks like a kicked puppy.

No. He hurt you. He needs to apologize for that.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize what she was doing until it was too late. Please believe me when I say I would never intentionally hurt you.”

It hurts more when you don’t realize it though.

“I told her that she needs to know that you’re my family. And that you’re not going anywhere.”

I can’t help but let my face soften, even though I wish it didn’t. As much as I wish I could stay mad at him, I can’t. Not when the look on his face is so genuine.

“I’m sorry for not calling, for not picking up, for the no-shows. I was a dick to you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

He makes it so hard to hate him.

“She’s actually really upset that she hurt you. She never meant to.”

For some reason, I don’t believe her, but go off, I guess.

He sees the hesitance on my face, so he smiles, and leans his head against my shoulder.

“Let me make it up to you. Lunch, at that Italian place you like? My treat.”

“Are you allowed to do that? Teacher said no.”

I run my fingers over the outline of the cover of my book, outlining the words.

He rolls his eyes. “Ha ha ha. You’re so funny.”

A small smile spreads across my face, as I reopen my book, settling down into my seat.

“I’m getting desert, by the way. Even if I don’t finish my pasta.”

He laughs to himself, leaning back into his seat and opening his own book.

“Anything for you, Y/N. Anything for you.”

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[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

ii. Fun Facts About The Cast | Actor Au | Obey Me

Request: Its not, I love this AU tho

Word Count: 2303 words

Page Count: 6.5 pages

A.N. Hope you guys all like this! Fun facts about the cast lmao

[ Actor AU Masterlist ]

Fun Facts

Benjamin ( Lucifer )

- Is the dad of the cast.

- In any scenes with Dmitri ( Luke ), he makes sure to know if he is alright, and often will stop scenes to ask.

- He also is an overall joker, so he has trouble filming most of his scenes, will often start laughing in the middle of filming and can break character the easiest.

- Best with kids overall, probably due to having his own, keeps their lives private tho.

- His hair was white for a past show, but the directors liked the look, so that's why he has white tips.

- One of the few male characters who cannot do those diets to accentuate his abs- so that's why his character is always covered up.

- He's in shape! But, he likes the fat that protects his muscle, he says he needs to stay soft to hug his kids.

- Known diabetic, so there's a table full of foods so his sugars are stable, the cast has glucagon shots all over the sets to be safe.

- Is in his early thirties, but people say he can pull off early twenties- he just snorts at this.

Avery ( Mammon ) 

- Takes the job seriously, and his scenes are easiest to film.

- Dark humor and often is the "Lucifer" of the cast.

- Seeing him switch from Avery to Mammon leaves the rest of the cast and crew fucking s h o o k.

- Will always be seen looking his finest.

- No, no one has seen him in public in sweatpants or anything like that. His image is very serious.

- Is a sweetheart when with the rest of the cast tho.

- His eyes are actually that blue.

- No one is sure if his hair is actually white or not, the way he speaks about it is vague, and fans are always theorizing.

- Watching over Benji ( Lucifer ), and is usually the one to tell him to check his sugars, since the other is quite forgetful.

- Is an immigrant from Turkey, so he has an accent, makes people thirst for him more.

- Helps aspiring actors and directors get into the field, and goes on hard work and talent, not who tries to pay him off.

Jackson ( Leviathan )

- Is the resident fuckboi.

- Always with males and females hanging off him, at this point the pop gave up, no- they aren't his partner.

- Flexes a shit ton.

- Wearing chains, a Rolex, and anything designer.

- Donates half of his salary to ocean reserves and protection funds, he has the money for it, and the show pays him well.

- Always at the beach, or near lake houses and shit, the one ( 1 ) thing he likes about his character.

- Hates the fringe he wears with a passion.

- His hair is actually a light shade of brown, his eyes are a darker shade, but still pretty light.

- First generation, his parents are Korean, so you can pick up hints of their accent in his speech patterns. Gets heavy when he's sleepy. 

Ross ( Satan )

- Is a stoner.

- Goes on Instagram lives with either MC and gets high, talking about the dumbest shit or he's alone in his room and his cats join in.

- "So, if you think about- oH MY GOD PRINCESS. YES, COME TO DADDY."

- Has a kitten curled up on him, purrs loud as hell because mf is so warm, and the lives turn into purring ASMR sessions.

- Into self care, has a line of vitamins, face masks, and everything you can think of.

- Calls his fans his SaStans.

- Dmitri ( Luke ) is his younger brother.

- Will never let him out of his sight, and they love to be as mean as they can to each other, they love each other but love to bully one another.

- Is from the Bronx, so his accent is what Avery ( Mammon ) mimics for his character, often just records Avery's lines and sends them to him so he can practice.

- Owns an animal shelter he funds.

- "Carol Baskin? Who's that?"

- The REAL tiger king.

- Gets all his cats dyed to look like tigers.

Micheal ( Asmodeus )

- Chill as fuck.

- Has like 5+ kids, so the role fits him perfectly, and now it's an on running joke among fans that they are all his illegitimate children.

- You know why Asmodeus on the show wears so much makeup? 

- His eldest daughter is one of the makeup artists, and she loves to try new looks on him, and the producers think it would fit the character well.

- People speculate his age, looks young but is in his late 30's.

- His first child was born when he was 16, so he likes to support safe heavens and things like that for struggling youths- from being kicked out to needing assistance with mental health.

- Tired af.

- Always in sweatpants, him and Ross ( Satan ) are the trademark bums of the cast.

- Thinks it would be hilarious that when Micheal is revealed, in the show, that he plays the character.

- Is a writer as well, TSL is a real series and he writes it, so they let him use it in the show.

- Vlogs in his car, in a Wendy's parking lot, eating a shit ton of food and talking about the most random shit.

- Half asleep in all interviews, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, it's gotten to the point where everyone memes it too.

James ( Beelzebub )

- Himbo.

- One of the few cast members closest to their character.

- Absolute sweetheart.

- He's 20 years old.

- But how is he so fucking big???

- Comes from a big ass family, the middle child, he's baby 4 out of 9.

- All his siblings are redheads too.

- Very playful tho, with the cast always going along with his antics, making for the best bloopers.

- The contacts he wears make him blind af, which doesn't help since he's so tall, and will bump his head on the doorways and such.

- Can speak Scottish-Gaelic, and even has an accent to top it off.

- He is an absolute unit, and one of the characters who does the stupid diet to show off his form.

- Literally on the verge of passing out sometimes, so he needs to rest with Benjamin ( Lucifer ).

- All pictures, shirtless scenes, and such are filmed first so he can rest after and go back to a normal diet.

- Quiet guy, but loves talking about sports and his siblings tho.

- Is always carrying MC and Dmitri ( Luke ) around, now there are many off-guard photos posted to the casts shared twitter+instagram accounts

- Still pretty new to acting, but is amazing at emotional scenes, to the point fans actually think he's having a breakdown.

- Nah, he's just thinking about being alone, without his family- and it gets him bawling for said scenes.

Conner ( Belphegor )

- Crackhead 

- Will not stay still, either for filming or just when everyone is chilling.

- Scenes where he's asleep? He's usually turned away from the camera, cause the idiot is smiling and giggling.

- Has tripped over his tail multiple times.

- Comes from a farm-life, literal cowboy, his southern accent just hits hard.

- He hides it very well, but it comes out at times or with certain words.

- Sees Benjamin ( Lucifer ) as a mentor, he's in his early twenties and new to the scene, but they are best friends.

- Benjamin ( Lucifer ) has now acquired a new child.

- A living meme.

- You know how Tom Holland can't keep a secret?

- Yeah, he's worse.

- Rest of the cast have all had to physically stop him from talking at one point.

- The cow pillow? It's actually his, when he got the role his father has sewn it himself, so he will bring it with him.

- It's basically free promo for the show and comforts him in the city space.

- Gets overwhelmed in large crowds, so he usually makes sure to have another cast member close by, or he will literally leave to a less crowded place to take a breath.

- Apologized to MC after the scene in which he kills them.

- His mama raised him right, so he takes MC to his house for a movie, in which they cuddle and relax for the night.

- Felt really bad for like... a whole week.

- "Country boy I love you~"

Thomas ( Barbatos )

- Brat.

- This is one cocky man, he's smooth as hell, and one whisper can make you weak in the knees.

- Grew out the one side of his hair, but he slicks his hair back or will pin it back, dyes it himself when it's time to film.

- Loves to piss Alex ( Simeon ) off.

- Has a true crime podcast with Roman ( Diavolo ), Alex ( Simeon ), and Benjamin ( Lucifer ), because they're all old friends.

- Donates to the cold case foundation because he knows what it's like to lose someone and not know what happened to them.

- He has a twin who is his stunt double, they love to fuck with the rest of the cast, both of them are little shits.

- Is the motherfucker who makes a channel and reads the crackhead fanfics

- Loves every word of it tho.

- Responds to every fans dms. Every. One. As a whole account for this shit.

- Walks with a bit of a limp, so he wears a brace to help even himself, but during wide-shot scenes you can catch it sometimes.

- Took actual classes to be a butler for the role.

Roman ( Diavolo )

- Himbo 2.0

- Catch this man tweeting what he's trying to search up at 2 in the morning.

- Leaves them because it's hilarious, makes videos where he reads them out sometimes, it's all in good fun.

- He has a set of triplets at home, so that dad energy radiates into the show too.

- You know how Diavolo seems sus at points of the game? Yeah, he's still like that IRL.

- The rest of the cast was put off at first, but that's how he is, and everyone eased up pretty quickly.

- Makes jokes that he has family in the Italian mob, but needed to stop once his father called him, saying that there were too many eyes on the family now.

- Man was s h o o k.

- Has sensitive skin, so all his makeup and body paints need to be specially made, made with all natural products.

- The bags under his eyes are baby bags.

- Will bring his kids on set, to which everyone will gush over, and watch them when they aren't filming.

- Very private with his kids ( to the public ), doesn't post about them much, and only the cast really sees them.

- Wine dad.

- Catch him bringing the whole cast out for "family trips"

- People nicknamed him Caesar

- So many JoJo references now

- "SHHHHIIIIIZZZAAAAAAAA"

- "Please, no."

Dmitri ( Luke )

- Is actually 12.

- Quotes vines, tiktoks, and other memes.

- Is one of the few people that Alex ( Simeon ) is openly nice too.

- Also has an accent, but since he's young and is learning, can now mimic every other cast member's accent.

- Wear earplugs for certain scenes, because of how raunchy and dark the scenes can get, so Simeon and Barbatos are always conveniently in the way, hiding the plugs.

- Is Ross' ( Satan ) younger brother, and if he isn't hanging off of him he's with James ( Beelzebub ), Benjamin ( Lucifer ), or MC.

- They know there are some sick fucks in Hollywood so he has an adult with him at all times.

- Posts pictures of him cuddling up to his brother and the kittens, new foods he is trying, and some pictures with family.

- He often is considered the new Gordon Ramsay.

- Had a collaboration with him.

- It was amazing.

- Best boy, catch him taking a nap in his ( and Ross' ) trailer, surrounded by tiger kittens.

- The TIGER PRINCE.

Alex ( Simeon )

- Avatar of wrath who?

- The embodiment of "No talk me, I angy"

- Jkjk, though he does have a temper, he only loses it with Benjamin ( Lucifer ), Roman ( Diavolo ), and Thomas ( Barbatos ).

- A sweetheart with all children though, like you know Simeon on the show? 

- Yeah, he's only like that with kids.

- And respectable adults.

- Mama raised him well 2.0

- Grew up in NY

- Born in Gucci and Balenciaga.

- Was a child model and slowly expanded to acting.

- Dark humor galore.

- If Simeon met Alex, he'd probably have a stroke, cause THOSE WORDS are coming out of HIS mouth.

- Says the weirdest shit too.

- "Put your hand on my ass and call me a virgin."

- Bro are you okay???

- He is fluent in five languages and has a high IQ.

- Speaks: English, French, Italian, Arabic, and Mandarin

- Has a support system for children who struggle to learn conventionally, with trained tutors who are affordable, he knows what it's like to need certain needs met to learn, and he wants every kid to get that chance.

- Rough around the edges but has a heart of gold.

Derek ( Solomon )

- Loves to smoke with Ross ( Satan )

- He is more aloof than chill.

- One of the more awkward members, doesn't know how to socialize well, and is very shy.

- Watch out for Dmitri ( Luke ) on the down low.

- Didn't have the best life growing up, so he is a lot more street smart than book smart.

- Doesn't have a big social media influence.

- Very nice to fans, gives full hugs to them, and everyone feels so appreciated.

- Has a husky named Blue.

- Also has an owl, who he took in when he found it on his porch with a broken wing, and nursed it to health.

- He set it free, but she comes back often, and has a nest in the tree closest to his house.

- Named her Lovely.

- Animal person, so he helps Ross out with his animal shelters.

- Uses Blue as a living pillow, and only sleeps in his boxers when Blue is on his bed, because goddamn does that dog radiate heat.

- Him and MC live together, having grown up together, and made their livings together. 

[neonponders]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight 

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He’d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

[cherrycocaineee]

4. Park Jimin - Cafe Date

    Sandalwood and bonfire candles burned throughout the house drifted through the open door blanketing my nose while I was hanging up some fake spider webs. Marshall was carrying the bundle of webs in his arms while I weaved them in the corners. Mom came out with a tray with two glasses filled with eggnog; a large smile appeared on her face when she saw how much we’ve done in a short period of time.

  “This is beautiful. You kids did such a great job!” She praised.

 “Mom,” Marshall said, “we aren’t kids. I’m literally twenty-two, and Brielle is nineteen.”

  “You’ll always be kids to me.”

Marshall and I put the decorations down to enjoy the nice, sweet, holiday drink that our mom had brought out to us. While I took small sips, Marshall gulped it down in a single swift motion.

  A black Porsche pulled into our driveway, coming to a complete stop inches from our garage door. The windows were tinted, so none of us could see whoever was inside the vehicle, until the door opened and climbed out of they’re seat.

Jimin’s blonde hair and black roots appeared as he lifted himself out of his car, a happy smile on his handsome face.

  “안녕 자기!” (Hi, sweetheart!)

 Excitement ran through my body as I saw and heard my boyfriend, and nearly lunged myself off the porch while running into his open arms. Jimin and I began dating when I was eighteen years old, and it was great but difficult since he was constantly touring and because he lived in South Korea.

  The two of us hugged each other tightly.

 “지민, 한 달 더 있을 줄 몰랐어.” (Jimin, I wasn’t expecting you for a month.)

Neither one of us was great at speaking the opposite language that the other spoke but we still tried. If that didn’t show we loved each other, then I didn’t know what did.

  We pulled away from each other and he pressed a gentle kiss against my temple. Marshall and my mom came off the porch and greeted Jimin. My family enjoyed having my boyfriend around and they treated him like family because of that. From where we stood, I could still smell the candles burning in the house, surprisingly.

  “Jimin, would you like to come in for some eggnog?” Mom asked, her voice sweet and angelic.

 A look of confusion swept against his face before he understood completely what my mom was asking him.

  “Ah ~ no, thank you. I wanted to take Brie out for some, uh,” he made a drinking motion with his hand, “some coffee.”

Of course I was going, but I had to finish putting up the Halloween decorations for my mom. Jimin even offered to help. So for the next forty-five minutes, Jimin and I put the rest of the cobwebs up and even added some yard decorations including skeletons, tombstones, a scary pumpkin, and more webs in the trees along with fake, realistic bats and spiders.

   Taking a step back to view our work, Jimin and I smiled in accomplishment. He turned to me and grabbed my small hand. I tightened my grip. After mom admired our work, Jimin led me to his car, opened the passenger's side, and held my hand as I stepped inside the vehicle. Once he was in the car, he started the ignition, and pulled out of the driveway heading towards a coffee shop a block from my mom’s home.

As Jimin was driving, I looked out the window watching the shopkeepers putting up their simple decorations like jelly stickers and hanging ghosts. Jimin parked the car next to the coffee shop and we scooted out. On the two large windows, there were assortments of those jelly stickers that everyone else had in town. Some were pumpkins, ghosts, bats, black cats, spiders, and more spooky, Halloween characters. Jimin opened the door, the small ring of the bell echoing off the shop’s walls, and gestured me inside.

   Pumpkin spice and freshly grounded coffee pierced our noses as we entered and I inhaled deeply. I loved coffee, I loved the smell of coffee, and I especially loved the aroma during the fall. During this cool season, the smell was more intense and the warmth of it was like a blanket for my nose only. The taste was just as euphoric.

Both of us walked up to the counter, listening to the sound of talkative customers sitting at tables, and looked at the menu. I didn’t really need to look, I always got the same thing every time I came here but Jimin did. I helped him with some of the words he didn’t understand and in the end, we ordered. Jimin got an iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel syrup, and I got a pumpkin spice latte. After the barista handed our drinks, we swiped a booth near the window so there was a nice view of the multicolored leaves falling to the concrete as the wind shook them off their branches.

   I sat across from Jimin, against the window. Jimin smiled at me.

  “How have you been?” He asked, his English better than when we first met, he’d definitely been practicing.

  “I’ve been good,” I said, taking a small sip of my pumpkin coffee, “really good actually. How have you been?”

  “Really tired, but good. I have been practicing my English more since we have been coming to America more often.”

  “I can tell, you’re getting much better.”

Jimin and I took a drink of our beverages before resuming conversation.

  “How are you doing with learning Korean?” He questioned, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the cool liquid.

I frowned and sighed, “it’s much harder than it looks, if I’m being honest.”

   I reached into my bag, which I had grabbed as we were leaving my mom’s, and pulled out a notebook that I took everywhere with me. Inside the Five Star spiral notebook were all of my Korean lessons. I opened the notebook and laid it out in front of us. Jimin leaned forward.

  “I get really confused on how to pronounce each character,” I muttered.

  “It is okay,” Jimin chirped, “I will help you since I am here.”

We spent some time on the lesson and Jimin taught me how to pronounce a lot in a twenty-five minute time span, but now the two of us were distracted by laughing at stupid things because I had mispronounced one of the characters.

    My laughter died down as my phone buzzed. Jimin leaned back and rested his arm over the back of the seat while sipping on his coffee. I picked my phone up and glanced at it. The name of my group chat popped up on the front screen and I saw that one of my friends was asking about the assignment due for Mr. Michael’s class. I chose not to answer it right now.

  “Important?” Jimin questioned.

 “Just a group chat for school,” I informed, “jealous?”

 He laughed out and it was the most captivating noise I’ve ever heard. Jimin shook his head.

  “Absolutely not,” he giggled some more, “I love and trust you.”

I covered my mouth as a small laugh escaped my own mouth.

   “How is school?” He asked.

  “It’s going great,” I said, “straight A’s. How’s touring?”

   “Oh it is amazing. I love being able to meet Army and be on several talk shows with funny people.”

  I smiled wide, “who’s your favorite talk show host?”

  “Jimmy Fallon and James Cordon. They are my favorite.”

I loved watching the interviews with Jimin and his group members, they always seemed to have so much fun with it. The idea of him traveling all through America and other countries meeting new people and performing new songs for their fans. I loved traveling, so I hoped some day that I would get to travel too, either with Jimin or alone.

   Jimin leaned forward again.

 “I was thinking maybe you can come visit South Korea on your vacation,” he said, “I will pay for the ticket.”

  My brown orbs widened at his words. I was shocked by his invitation because I never thought he would ask me to come visit him in Korea. But what shocked me the most was what he said next.

  “I want you to meet my mom and dad. I already told them about you, they are wanting to meet you too.”

  “Oh Jimin,” I whispered, a few tears escaping my eyes and sliding down my cheek, thanking myself for not wearing any makeup today.

  He grabbed my hand, “사랑해, 브리.” (I love you, Brie.)

  “사랑해요, 지민.” (I love you, Jimin.)

After we finished drinking our coffee, I ordered another to go and we left. Jimin didn’t have to worry about fans seeing him here because the town was so small, so Jimin wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked to the car. It was a subtle romantic gesture, and I loved it.

   Jimin, once again, opened the passenger’s side and helped me in. I thanked him and he leaned down, kissing me on the forehead. On the drive home, Jimin rested his hand on my thigh and we jammed out to crappy music playing on the radio at that time.

Marshall was sitting outside with his friend, Jackson, when Jimin pulled into the driveway. I looked over at Jimin.

  “Do you have somewhere to be, or do you want to come in and watch a movie?”

He took a quick glance at his phone before answering, “I have time. Come on, we can watch a romantic movie.”

  Jimin was always a big flirt, even when I first met him. It was one of the qualities that I loved the most about him. The two of us kissed. His hand touched the side face with his large hand, deepening the kiss and making my heart flutter. When he pulled away, I bit my bottom lip.

  “Come on,” he said, his voice was husky from the kiss, “let’s go inside.”

Nodding, I followed my boyfriend inside the house. My brother and his friend waved at us as we passed. However, we didn’t stop for long to chat, I knew Jimin would be leaving soon and I knew I would be able to see him for months, so I wanted to spend as much time with him alone.

   We decided on an action movie, and cuddled into my bed, entangled into each other’s arms. I looked up at Jimin and felt love and admiration for this man. He was honestly the most amazing man I ever knew. He looked down at me, pressed a single peck on my forehead, and nuzzled closer to me. The sound of his heartbeat thumping against his chest mixed with the sound of the movie playing. I felt at ease and relaxed against him. Everything was perfect.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Boss

Prompt.. Lexa and Clarke sleep together one night, the next morning Clarke comes in to start her new job and turns out Lexa will be her boss (basically how Meredith and Derek first meet in grey's anatomy) yeah cool...love your writing

The tiny townhouse on the corner of Grant and Lincoln was nearly unpacked, but still occupied the unfinished zone of moving in. The furniture was there, with boxes opened and in various states of emptied. Sheets were tossed on the bed, but it wasn’t made. Clothes were rooted through and half hung in the closet at the top of the stairs. The only things in the fridge were little Chinese take out boxes and a handful of sauce packets. 

But that didn’t mean a thing to the bodies on the couch. 

Well tired and sated, the two tangled torsos and limbs hung and clung to each other on the small area, not having much to discuss the night before, but rather making the other body too tired to hear and speak and think, and thus fell asleep in a knot. It wasn’t many hours of sleep between the bar and the sex and the moment one of the bodies shifted and the otehr fell to the floor with a thud. 

“Ow.” 

“What was--”

“Just my back. And hip. And… head,” the body on the floor wheezed slightly, wincing against the pain. 

“Oh shit, it’s daylight,” Clarke squinted toward the windows witn no curtains or blinds and realized how late it was. “Oh fuck!”

“Seems to be.” 

The body on the couch sat up and hopped over the back before snatching the blanket and carefully wrapping it around her naked body. 

“I have to go. I have work...um…”

“Lexa,” she sat up from the floor, propping herself up on her elbows and looking up over the cushions. 

Completely naked, the girl on the floor smiled and pushed away a mess of hair while Clarke looked at her and blushed and tried not to look, desperately. She wanted to look, but that would distract her from the process of getting ready, and Clarke had to get to work. It was her first day, after all, beautiful naked sex god be damned. 

“Right. Lexa. Nice to meet you, but I have to--”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded, tugging a pillow in front of herself to shield as much nakedness as possible. “Do you live here?” 

“Just moved.” 

“Cool. From where.” 

“I really have to-- It was fun and all--”

A pair of blank panties were held up from the floor by hands attached to a mischievous hand oddly victorious grin. Clarke remembered the same smile somewhere between the whiskey and tequila, the smile nd the eyes and the intent way the stranger in the bar listened to her words. More importantly, she remembered the fragments of the sex and the things that mouth could do and that was the reason for the victory, and it was deserved. 

“But you have to go to work,” Lexa repeated. 

With a graceless motion, Clarke reached over the couch and snatched the offending lingerie before agreeing full-heartedly. 

“It was nice to meet you, Lexa,” Clarke promised. “But when I come back downstairs, you’ll be gone, and I’ll be on my way to work.” 

“Right. Work. I should, too. It was nice, to uh, do this. Maybe we can again--”

The offer was barely acknowledged as Clarke hopped up the stairs and toward the shower, leaving Lexa smiling somewhat, amused at the display before she looked down at herself and chuckled at what the past five minutes of her life looked like. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was incredibly stupid. It was monumentally stupid. It was the dumbest thing she’d ever done, or at least very close to the top of the long list. But after three weeks of refusing to unpack the house and dealing with the question of employment, Clarke couldn’t handle it any longer, and joined the land of the living again. Perhaps a bit too hard, which was, above all else, stupid. Incredibly stupid. 

Clarke didn’t have too much time to think about anything else as she sprinted into the tall building that had its own distinct imprint on the city. Hair a mess and shirt sloppily in the process of being tucked in, she flashed her badge and rushed toward the elevators as she repeated how stupid it’d been to get absolutely drunk and hook up with a stranger on the couch, and then not setting an alarm, for her first day of her dream job. 

Again and with emphasis, Clarke was an incredibly stupid and gay individual. 

“Ms. Griffin,” the receptionist greeted her with a smile. “I’ve been instructed to ask that you wait right here until Ms. Moore is finished with her phonecall.” 

“Right, of course,” Clarke nodded as she attempted to underplay how extravagantly winded she was. 

Grateful for the moment to process, Clarke took a seat in the reception and processed what the past hour of her life looked like. She somehow woke up and kicked out a very naked woman from her house, that she could almost remember the name of somewhat. And she’d run across town and made it to work. On time, or at least on time enough for her boss. 

Only when she’d caught her breath did Clarke realize that she never got Le-- La-- Lara? Lena? Larry? Fuck. She never got the stranger’s number. 

“Hey, Clarke, thanks for your patience.” 

The woman who interviewed her twice finally walked out from behind the hallowed doors of Woods Publishing, and Clarke gave up trying to remember and prayed she did not smell like as much tequila as she’d inhaled the night before. 

“I’m so happy to be here, Ms. Moore,” she grinned and shook the outstretched hand. 

“Luna is fine. We’re the creatives,” she winked and led Clarke toward the door. “We get a little more freedom than the stuffed shirts in editing and sales.” 

As they moved down the hall, there was a minute smell of weed, and Clarke realized that this job was going to be better than she’d ever imagined. 

“I thought for your first day, I’d kind of get you set up, take you to our morning huddle and pitch meetings, and then after lunch make you meet everyone in a super awkward and invasive department bash.” 

“Bash?” 

“Yeah, well, people stop coming when I call them meetings and ice-breakers. I’ve decided to rename things different, more fun words to trick them into the same meetings.” 

“How’s it going so far?” 

“Amazingly well. Just wait until you see the turn out for your meet-and-greet… I mean bash.” 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Her boss was calm and cool, funny and approachable, and most importantly, she was clearly very into her job, which was a godsend. Hiring was often abou personality and camaraderie, as in how well a new personality would fit into a team, and Clarke already felt at home. 

The day went by easily enough, as all first days are known to do. She met her team and got her desk, got to feel out a little of how the day flowed with the promise of her assignments arrival soon enough. Luna passed her off around lunch to one of the teammates, and Clarke fell into enjoying her new coworkers with very light company gossip over not terrible sandwiches in the cafeteria. She learned all about the office romances and the merger, the new corporate structure and how great it was compared to other companies. She learned about the owner’s daughter who started a few months ago and was actually nice to work for, and more importantly, Clarke learned that there was a very lax policy when it came to punctuality. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

By the end of the day, Clarke felt like she would like it there, and was eager to help and work on drawing some of the projects. She was ready to work with the team and she was ready to finally be creative and produce something. 

“Thank you all again, for welcoming Clarke to our team,” Luna grinned and held up her glass as the rest of the team did the same. 

She was right, of course, that calling it a bash did something to make them all want to stay a few minutes later and mingle. 

“Enjoy the gift baskets sent from the studio for our last project, but within reason. And we’ll jump right in tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Clarke smiled and accepted a drink. 

“I’ll see you bright and early. We’ll get you started on part of our new programming and onto the new project.” 

“I can’t wait.”

Clarke found herself pulled into a conversation over artwork for the storyboard on the wall in the main rom, and even though it was technically about work, the other artists were more than eager to talk about their plans, even over drinks. 

And then she looked up and nearly spit out her drink before turning around very quickly so that her back was to the familiar green eyes and the person she’d kicked onto the floor that very morning. 

“Looks like the boss decided to make a stop. I’m going to finally ask her out,” one of the guys decided as he stood a little straighter and awkwardly fixed his hair. 

“There’s no way Lexa Woods gives you the time of day,” Raven scoffed, sipping her drink and sneaking a look at the grinning CEO. “I bet you twenty bucks she doesn’t even speak to you.” 

“She’s really nice.” 

“Oh, I know. But I bet she won’t even notice you.” 

Clarke felt the blood leave her face as she hurried to sneak another look to confirm that it was, in fact, hell freezing over. And sure enough, for some stranger reason, in a city of hundreds of thousands of people, she was in the same room as the stranger she drunkenly hooked up with sixteen hours beforehand. 

And that stranger was her boss’ boss’ boss’ boss. That stranger was Lexa Woods, CFO of Woods Publishing, daughter of the owner, inheritor to the castle. 

“What do you think, Clarke?” Raven turned toward her. Just five minutes ago, Clarke liked Raven, but now, she wanted to disappear and Raven was blocking the exit. “Think Dan here has a chance?” 

“I don’t really know anything about her,” Clarke shrugged and downed the rest of her drink, careful to stay turned around. 

She didn’t know anything about Lexa Woods, except how she tasted and the noises she made and this thing she did with her fingers that--

“She hasn’t been here long, but she’s actually not the worst, as far as suits go. She likes the creative floors. Her dad’s given her a few projects I’ve been on and I think we work pretty well together,” she explained, offering Clarke a refill. 

“Cool, cool, nice.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or you’re a very bad drinker.” 

“I, uh, had a few too many last night.” 

“Hair of the dog then,” Raven grinned and clinked their glasses. “I think I’m going to like having you around, Griffin. At least until you start asking for advanced tech and drive me crazy with your doodles. Oh shit, there he goes.” 

Despite herself, Clarke turned around and watched the illustrator move through the crowd. She looked immediately at Lexa and actually caught her eye. She held the look and she watched Lexa smile at her, though she couldn’t move to return it. Mortification was at the forefront of her brain. That and oddly proud of herself for pulling someone like Lexa Woods, even when she wasn’t on her A game. 

Only when Clarke saw Dan get close, did she look away and break the stupor she found herself stuck in. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t figured out that she’s gay.” 

“What?”

“Dan has the worst gay-dar of all time,” Raven chuckled. “I almost feel bad taking his money. Almost.” 

Sure enough, as he walked up toward his boss’ boss’ boss, full of confidence and vim, Lexa didn’t even notice him, her eyes firmly locked on Clarke’s as she moved through the crowd, finally deciding to approach. It took a few steps before Clarke realized what was happening, and only then did she feel the two and a half drinks she’d had. 

She really didn’t like Raven. 

“I knew it.” 

Clarke didn’t say a word, but rather looked for a quick escape, though none existed and she already knew that. 

“Hey, I thought I’d come welcome you to the team personally. I’m Lexa Woods.” 

With a smile and her hand outstretched, the CEO stood there, as if she hadn’t gone down on her new employee on her couch. 

“Lexa Woods, as in…” 

“Yeah, that’s my name outside, but don’t hold it against me,” she grinned, holding the handshake a little bit longer. “It was Callie, right?” 

“Clarke.” 

“I’m sorry. Clarke.” 

“I didn’t expect to see you on my first day.” 

“Yeah,” Lexa chuckled. “I can imagine. I like hanging out down here more than upstairs. How are you, Ms. Reyes?” 

“Doing alright,” Raven nodded, appraising the scene before her. “Taking Clarke under my wing, as it were.” 

“I’d be careful,” the boss warned. “It was nice to meet you again, Clarke. I’ll see you guys later. I have a meeting I should try to get to ontime. Punctuality is key.”

Clarke burned red and nodded. 

“Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Woods.” 

“Lexa’s fine.”

“Yeah you are.” 

Lexa just smiled and waved again before disappearing. Dan joined the group a second later and passed a twenty to his friend. The boss left the room a moment later without a look back, and Clarke finally breathed. 

“So,” Raven furrowed. “When did you fuck our boss?” 

XXXXXXXXXX

For three weeks, Clarke managed to avoid all thoughts and ideas of Lexa Woods, CEO and absolute beauty. She didn’t avoid her social media, nor did she avoid much of the idle gossip about her at work, but for the most part, Clarke refused to think about her as much as possible, which amounted to about never. 

Sometimes at work, she was able to go for hours, focusing on her projects. Sometimes, Clarke found herself avoiding areas she suspected she might show up, and for three glorious weeks, she was fairly successful. 

Bent over her drawing board, Clarke found herself in a period of Lexa-less thoughts, happy to escape her life and all else, and instead find some sort of outlet for everything she’d been feeling over the past year. 

“These are very good.” 

“Fuck, you scared me,” Clarke breathed, turning around quickly. “I mean. Not fuck.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t followed up,” Lexa smiled softly, hands tied behind her back as she perused Clarke’s wall of sketches for the short they were doing. “I was out of town on business. How is your first month going, Ms. Griffin?” 

“Do you take such an interest in all of your employees, or just the ones you seduce?” 

“I believe you were the one seducing. I was drunk and adorable and you took advantage of me in my drunk and adorable state.” 

Clarke balked and grit her teeth before seeing that Lexa was making fun of her, which did nothing to calm her. 

“Someone who pins the other to their front door, is not being taken advantage of.” 

She smiled again and Clarke found it infuriating. And hot. But also infuriating a little more. 

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Lexa nodded. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to address that… trist.” 

“It was a fluke, and I think we should stay professional. Like we have.”

“I thought I was keeping it fairly professional.” 

“I just mean, you can’t-- we don’t have to talk about that… trist.” 

“Or we could?” she waited to gauge Clarke’s reaction. “Or not. Definitely not. Very professional. Just pretend it never happened.” 

“Exactly. Thank you for stopping by, Ms. Woods.” 

“Lexa is still fine. We’re going to be working together a bit. Everyone calls me Lexa.” 

“Professional,” Clarke repeated. 

“Casual, even. Professionally casual.” 

“Exactly.” 

XXXXXXXXX

“Professional,” Lexa nodded to herself and tried to catch her breath. The naked body beside her repeated the same thing with a sigh. 

“But we can’t do that again. We were just scratching an itch,” Clarke reasoned as Lexa agreed, humming along with the familiar song. 

If any of that were true, she wouldn’t have been naked in Clarke’s half-made bed, next to a full-naked girl. If she had anything to say about it, they’d be doing it much more and often and professionally. But she was the boss, and she wasn’t allowed to make that call. Clarke had to make it. And Lexa was very grateful that Clarke made it. 

It wasn’t Lexa’s fault that they enjoyed the same bar, or that they happened to notice each other, and it wasn’t her fault that she liked kissing Clarke. 

“I quite like scratching that itch with you.” 

Lexa turned her head and watched Clarke smile before regaining her composure. 

“Don’t sweet talk me, Woods. I’m your employee.” 

“Yeah, but like, only kind of.” 

Clarke turned and gave her a look before Lexa chuckled and rolled toward her, pressing her luck as she pressed against Clarke, kissing her shoulder and her neck. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Clarke turned over as well. “Go into HR and tell them we’re sleeping together?” 

“I could fire you?” 

“Lexa.”

“I could quit?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Or you could agree to go on an actual date with me, and promise not to take your clothes off.” 

“You’re the one that takes them off of me!” 

Despite her wiggling, Clarke let Lexa pull her closer. She ran her fingertips along Lexa’s cheek, squishing her cheeks together so she was making fish lips and smiled at the display, amused at herself and how Lexa let her do that. 

“I zwant tovee hrofeshinal widzth you. Vutd I sink I alike you.” 

“You sound ridiculous.” 

Lexa sighed until Clarke let go of her cheeks, unable to keep the smile there. Instead she held her chin now, between her forefinger and thumb, keeping her steady and there. Fingertips moved up and down her back. 

“I think we can do this without messing up work.” 

“How?” 

“We just don’t work together. I’ll stay off of your projects. Luna has complete control over personnel and who is on what.” 

“If it goes bad?” 

“Then I’ll definitely quit. Sell the company probably. Move to Zurich,” she decided. 

“That plan developed quickly.” 

“It’s always in my back pocket in case a beautiful girl who works for me creates a problem. I will not be caught unprepared again.” 

“Again?” 

“It’s an expression.” 

“Mmm,” Clarke smiled and nodded. 

She didn’t waste a moment. She leaned forward and kissed Lexa because she had to be certain, and she had to find some kind of bravery. She should think about it more, and she should have made a pros and cons list, but something about this moment, this person, Clarke just felt alive, and she’d been chasing it for so long. 

“Did I get the job?”

“You got a date. One date.” 

“I can work with that.”

[krreader]

EXO reacting to you, a foreign idol, receiving hate after your relationship went public.

pairing: exo x foreign idol!reader fandom: exo warnings: language ; racism genre: angst ; fluff word count: 1.5k+

a/n: I wish the reality were a lot different, but with jongdae having received so much backlash.. god I just hope people will leave them all alone and let them love in peace.

kim minseok

Concerts were supposed to be a fun time for both idols, as well as fans.

But seeing stuff like this always made Minseok regret his career choices.

All he could do was stare at the racist sign that a fan was holding up in disbelief, maybe even a little bit of sadness and disappointment that one of his fans was behaving like so.

His band members must have seen his reaction, Junmyeon, as the leader instantly nodding towards the fan and a manager handled the rest from there.

She was gone, but what she had written on that sign was branded in his memory.

“You okay?” you asked later that night when you joined him in bed.

Minseok opened his mouth and looked at you, but then he closed it again and smiled, shaking his head a little, “Just tired.”

This wasn't something that you needed to know. He wanted to protect you from that world of hate as much as possible.

kim junmyeon

Junmyeon was so busy bowing to the artists that passed him that he didn't even notice your band being among them at first.

But the moment his eyes landed on you, his smile instantly widened.

PDA wasn't exactly something you could do here and you both knew it, neither of you was this stupid.

But the smile that Junmyeon had only reserved for you seemed to be enough to start a shit-storm online.

“Why is he only smiling at her like that? It's disgusting.”

“Does she think she's special or something? Somebody remind her that she's not.”

“Can she just go back to where she came from? It’s annoying me.”

Were just examples of hatefulness spread in online forums and the likes. But Junmyeon made sure that you wouldn't read them.

Right after the award show, he and you decided to – instead of going to the after-party – go straight home and just enjoy some alone time together.. without your phones.

You knew he was looking out for you when every time you wanted to check your messages, he pulled you closer and kissed you instead and every time you’d ask why, he’d just laugh and tell you that he couldn’t get enough of you.

And well.. his strategy worked.

zhang yixing

Yixing must have thought that with him barely being a part of EXO's promotions anymore, that fans would lay off of him and you.

Maybe give him a pass and let him live and love in peace.

That's why he brought you to the film premiere as his date, because he truly thought it would be fine.

But damn, fans were viscous. 

The moment he and you stepped out of the car, they were screaming at you to get back to where you came from and it was.. a mess, to say the least.

Nevertheless, Yixing was proud to have you by his side and every chance he got for an interview, he mentioned it, wanting to show these “fans” that their racism wouldn't change his opinion on you in the slightest and that it was absolutely not appropriate here or anywhere else.

But he knew that this night wasn't easy for you, even if you smiled throughout the entire time and he was glad when it was finally over again and you were back home in the safety of your own four walls. There, he could at last wrap his arms around you and hold you close as you were finally allowed to shed a few tears.

“I'm so sorry,” he kept whispering into your hair, “I love you so much, never forget it.”

byun baekhyun

“Are you even able to communicate?” one of the interviewers asked Baekhyun after the topic of you and him having started dating came up.

And the question caught him off guard because, “You've.. talked with her.. lots of times before? And she spoke.. perfect Korean?”

“Well, yeah, but it's just.. she's not Korean.”

It was so stupid and everyone in the room knew it. Some of his band members snorted, others even started laughing, while Baekhyun just really didn't know what else to say to this.

“I think you handled it well,” you said later that night when you sat down next to him on the couch, “They just want gossip and they'll do anything to get it.”

“I just wish they'd stop disregarding you so much just because you’re not Korean.”

“My confidence is a lot bigger than they think,” you smiled and kissed his forehead, “I'll be fine, babe. You don’t have to worry about me,”

He pulled you into his arms with a sigh and held you there until the world felt like a better place again.

kim jongdae

Jongdae put down his phone with a heavy sigh after having read yet another headline that was so similar to all the ones before.

“South Korean idol Kim Jongdae dating foreign idol (Y/N) and fans aren't happy about it.”

It was a Korean article and people knew, even by his name alone, that Jongdae was Korean, but they still had to emphasize it.. because you weren't. And that was apparently an issue.

“How are you?” he texted you later.

“I'm okay, don't worry about me,” you replied only a few minutes later.

“But I am worrying. Don't read the articles, okay?”

“I'm fine, Jongdae, really. Media can suck my non-existing dick.”

After reading that line, Jongdae immediately started to smile and nod to himself.

You were right.

The media could sick his dick too.

park chanyeol

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol leaned down to press a kiss against the back of your head, his eyebrows furrowing when you were watching one of his music videos.

“Nothing..”

But from the way your voice sounded and the fact that your shoulders were slumped when you walked into the kitchen, it really didn't look like nothing.

So he followed you and pestered you for as long as it took for you to finally tell him what was bothering you.

“People keep comparing us to you guys. Saying that we have fewer views and that we're less popular and that it's all my fault.”

“(Y/N), they're just jealous.”

“I know.. but our relationship.. it's ruining my group's image, Chanyeol. These girls have worked so hard and it's..-” you let out a heavy sigh and shook your head.

“Hey,” he took a step closer and grabbed your chin to make you look at him, “Nobody is ruining anything, especially not you. You are an essential part of your group and without you, they'd lose an important puzzle piece.”

He must have known that you were hinting at leaving the group, but that wasn't something that Chanyeol would stand by and just watch. You had worked hard too.. and he wouldn't let you stop now just because some jealous idiots thought they had the power to destroy your life.

do kyungsoo

“I'm sure the situation isn't easy for you,” his new make-up artist said as she was doing the finishing touches on his face, “In regards to (Y/N), I mean.”

He didn't want to talk about it, but he appreciated her concern, so he said: “Thank you.”

“It's not easy when someone clings to you so hard that you can't get rid of them. I've been there.. but you'll escape the relationship eventually.”

That had him stare at her with confusion, “Wait... what?”

“I heard foreigners are extremely clingy... that's probably why.”

Needless to say, she had her job for exactly one day.

Kyungsoo wouldn't work with a racist, especially not one that disrespected his girlfriend like that.

kim jongin

They were doing a fan sign right now, the first one after Jongin's and your relationship got exposed.

He had been incredibly nervous beforehand, but so far, everyone was nothing but kind to him. Nobody had even mentioned you.

Until one fan came up.

“Don't you think you should find someone like yourself?”

Jongin stopped writing on her album momentarily, his eyes still on his writing, but then he continued with his signature with a smile, “She is like myself. An idol. An artist.”

“But she's a foreigner. She's not really like us.”

Jongin clenched his jaw, then looked up with a sweet, but very fake smile, “She's a human being. A very kind one. I hope that can be respected.”

The girl would have liked nothing more than to argue with him about this, but the manager ushered her to keep going and Jongin was with the next fan that was a lot nicer than the one before.

He was just glad that you hadn't been here to listen to what she had said.

oh sehun

“Hey, I just wanted to call you,” Sehun smiled as he accepted your call, but when he could hear you cry, he instantly froze, “What happened?”

“Are you sure this is good, Sehun? I don't think anyone approves.”

“What do you mean?” he furrowed his eyebrows and quickly hurried into an empty corridor where he could speak to you in peace.

“The fans.. your fans, they all.. hate me.”

Sehun let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes for a moment.

So you had read all the nasty comments.

“(Y/N), don't read them. The people that write these things are not in their right state of mind. These people don't matter.”

Of course, it was easier for Sehun to just say these things as he was not the victim in this situation, at least not directly. But he still felt for you, of course he did, he loved you. All he could do was be there for you and continuously tell you and show you just how much you meant to him.

Your nationality didn't change that, despite what other people seemed to think

[tangledinmdzs]

sing your heart away, junior quartet hcs

i’ve been having a really fun time daydreaming about various modern aus with the juniors so here’s a fun one

a musician au and who the juniors would be to you in the music industry (minor inspiration from the K-Music Scene)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Lan Sizhui

your producer

you sigh, a bit loudly to yourself, fixing the bulky headphones on your head

“be careful not to breath too hard onto the mics please, y/n-ah” a voice reminds you from outside the booth

“yes yes, sorry,” you apologize quickly, taking an anxious step back and giving some space between you and the equipment

there’s an awkward pause before the small click of the talking icon outside the booth lights up and the head producer speaks again

“don’t stand too far now, we won’t be able to hear you” the same gentle, but snobbish voice reminds 

you hold back your second sigh in the last 10 minutes and take a tentative step closer to the mic, once again fixing your headphones

“i’m sorry, i’m just... a little nervous” 

you’re a lot more honest than you should be, especially with how everyone is in the industry

you don’t understand why you’ve got the jitters so bad

you’ve sang in front of way more than three people before

but today you were really, actually, recording your voice for the first time and you’re feeling a little more than scared-

“there’s nothing to be nervous about, you are a good singer” 

you perk up at the different voice over the booth intercom, looking out of the screen to meet eyes with your newest acquaintance  

Lan Sizhui was the famed youngest producer of the industry, having made a name for himself even though he’s barely a few years older than you

he’s already being known as someone who is dedicated and tedious in his craft and mixing music

it had been a great opportunity to be able to snag some studio time with him

you guess you’re feeling the heat, since he’s here in person to judge your singing

“please, whenever you’re ready. i’ll be behind the levels so just sing and leave the rest to me,” Sizhui’s reassuring voice rings in the booth you’re in

you look over at him, sparing a small smile before taking his reassurance to heart

seeing that you’ve grounded yourself, Sizhui plays the track behind you and the rest of the studio quiets as you begin to sing

Sizhui’s hands don’t even come near the levels

you sing so well

and really it’s no surprise

that’s why he wanted to work with you after all 

well one of the reasons, (^ω~)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Lan Jingyi

your group choreographer

you’re sweating bullets

today is D-7, a week before you big group performance and three days before your dress rehearsal

everyone wanted everything to be ready to the tee

“good job everyone, let’s call it a day for now,” Jingyi calls out to the rest of your group

you let out a long breath, dropping to the floor and grabbing your water bottle by the mirrors

you really needed the break and just the time to go over your moves again

soon you’re hitching on your backpack to follow the rest of your group member’s out 

as you’re leaving you hear your name called somewhere between all the noise

when you turn around, you’re surprised to see Jingyi looking at you

when he catch your eye he smiles a small smile,

“go back to the dorms first, i’ll catch up” you tell one of your group members before turning back to meet Jingyi, who’s walking up to you

“hey, y/n, i wanted to talk to you a bit, about one part of the dance” Jingyi starts, pleasantries skipped 

you hum at him, a bit surprised that he’s holding you back. 

usually you were one of the first to catch his choreography and he rarely had any problems with you

Jingyi catches your worried eyes and immediately elaborates,

“not that there’s anything jarringly wrong, you’ve made immense improvements since before. this is just me, nitpicking the details to make it perfect” Jingyi then ends his statement with a funny gesture and you feel a bit of the heaviness in your chest lift

“alright then, i’ll take your advice dance mentor” you answer back and take a deep breath as you take off your backpack

“i know you’re a bit tired from today’s practice, but i want you to look your best” Jingyi encourages as you take your place next to him

you stare at him in the mirror, smiling despite the heavy sweat on your brow

“i know and i appreciate it,” you reply honestly which causes him to smile

“let’s do this”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Jin Ling

your manager

“so you’ve got a photoshoot in about 3 hours after this interview. we might have to leave early because of traffic; did you bring your stuff yet?” Jin Ling nags at you and you groan

“yes mom,” you grumble, fixing your bag and avoiding the look that Jin Ling levels at you

“look, i’m telling you the schedule so that you don’t act all confused and shellshocked once we get to the site and you go ‘oh, what to do, what do i do? i don’t know how to take care of my own schedule’” Jin Ling mocks your voice and you huff out a disbelieving laugh at his antics

“i heard you the first time A-Ling, you don’t need to repeat my entire week schedule on the entire car ride” you tell him, turning away from the window to level an eyebrow at him

Jin Ling’s scowl wasn’t second to anyone, but he deflates once he stares at you for too long

“i just remind you because you have-”

“the tendency to forget, i know that. and i know that you probably know me better than myself” you reiterate from all the times that he has told you

you send him a half smile even after you mock him a bit, because you do appreciate all the work he does to plan and schedule all of your events for you

“i know,” you say and hopes he understands

Jin Ling holds your stare a bit longer before looking away with a huff

but you’re not too worried, when you see him hide a small half smile of his own as he clicks his pen on his clipboard

“driver, would you mind stepping a bit on the gas, i want to give y/n some extra time before the next schedule,”

“no problem”

you smile to yourself as you stare out of the passing scenery

leave it to Jin Ling to handle everything 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Ouyang Zizhen

your group member

you look up from where you’re lounging on the couch, hearing the dorm room door click open

you perk your ears, tuning in on the sluggish way that the person just entering is kicking off their shoes

a dull thud of a bag being dropped in the doorway is the biggest giveaway that this is not your other girl group member

so when tall person in a grey hoodie and a black face mask walks in, you can tell from a mile away who it is

“don’t you know we have a show recording tomorrow, why are you getting home so late?” you shout to Zizhen who literally walks pass your small living room to the kitchen

he always ignores you, he’s so annoying

you really think that he might have just not heard you but he returns to stand at the threshold of the kitchen doorway, a cold sandwich in his mouth

“had a variety show shoot, they kept me late” he responds after basically inhaling the sandwich 

even after dorming with him for the last 2 years, you still have yet to understand how he doesn’t need to chew his food to ingest it

“is that gonna be enough?” you ask him, when you see him pick at the small sauce stuck to the plastic wrap of the sandwich

at your question he looks up at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes

you already know what he’s going to ask so you beat him to the punchline

“make your own ramen” you tell him, curling back onto the sofa as he whines at the doorway

how this dude is 4 years older than you, you will never know

“i’m so tired, y/n-ah! spare some good will and help a bro out!” he whines and runs to kneel by where you’re lying on the couch

he even goes through the extent of shaking all the feeling out of your arm

and really, you don’t want to

but you make his stupid ramen anyway

[wherevermyway]

bittersweet lullabies // binchan // oneshot // 16+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin rating: mature! 16+ warnings/tags: angst, friends-to-enemies, enemies-to-lovers, symphony AU, implied sexual content (seriously, it’s barely even there and probably very easily missable), alcohol, referenced underage drinking, past seo changbin x jung wooyoung (ateez). word count: 15,000 also on AO3

originally posted: 07 february 2021

Several years ago, Bang Chan and Seo Changbin were best friends in middle school. They quickly became rivals in high school, starting not long after Changbin got the lead first chair for the viola section, something Chan had also been vying for. When Changbin became valedictorian, they got into a heated argument and Changbin swore he would never talk to Chan again.

After university, they both received offers to work in the same symphonic orchestra. When they run into each other for the first time in four years, conflicting emotions bloom, tensions arise, and it all comes to an apex when Changbin storms off into the Seattle rain, and Chan can’t let him go, not after the guilt he had after all of these years.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

“I earned this, Chan!” A voice shouted in a cold, empty hallway. “Do you understand how many sleepless nights I pulled to get here? The sacrifices I’ve made?” There was a loud clattering against metal lockers that echoed against the linoleum flooring and the bland drywall. Papers fell, scattering about the floor as the overhead lighting flickered, illuminating two young men dangerously close to one another.

A scoff came from the slightly taller, blonde man. “Do you think I didn’t work hard?” He slapped his hand against the metal locker behind the brunette man leaning up against them. “I tried so hard, had the same grades as you, the same SAT score, and yet you somehow got valedictorian? What’s your secret, Changbin?”

“Can you leave me alone, dude?” The smaller man gave the blonde a shove, and attempted to storm away, before he was tugged back by the wrist. “Come on, man, they could only pick one person for valedictorian. You still get a speech, now let me leave. I’ve got stuff to take care of.”

Chan, the blonde, shook his head, looking down to the floor. “You really think I only want a stupid fucking speech? I didn’t want to be salutatorian; I don’t want to play second fiddle to you for one more goddamned thing.” He looked back up to the brunette, Changbin, and his eyes were glistening and tinted red. “I just wanted this one thing, to be better than you at something for once. You got lead first chair for orchestra. You got lead tenor for All-State. You’ve always been better than me, and this just proves it and it hurts.”

The two of them exchanged a painful glance, but said nothing. Changbin tugged his arm away, glaring at the other man, pity hidden behind his stare. If this were some sort of coming-of-age, poorly-written Hollywood dramedy, this would be the part where they would make out against the lockers. He would ruffle his hands through Chan’s hair, tell him some cheesy line, like “fuck what everyone else thinks, I may be valedictorian, but you’re the top of the class in my heart”.

However, this was real life. Nothing worked like the movies.

“What’s done is done, Chan,” the brunette sighed, rubbing his wrist. “Grow up and get over it. I’m tired of doing this shit with you every time I earn something and you throw a fucking fit and get jealous.” Changbin turned away, stepping on some of the discarded papers as he quickly walked away, down the corridor. “Don’t ever talk to me again,” he shouted, his voice firm and bouncing against the hard surfaces, echoing loudly in the emptiness.

Chan shook his head and let a tear slide down his face. “I miss the old us.” He remorsefully whispered to himself, dropping to his knees and collecting up the papers he dropped when he shoved the younger man into the lockers. He missed his former best friend, lamenting over how much he let his competitive nature ruin their friendship, the only friendship that really mattered to him.

Four years after Chan and Changbin graduated high school, they still found themselves thinking about each other as they graduated from university. Changbin had somehow completed a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in four years during his time at Yale, and Chan finally got his coveted valedictorian title at Dartmouth. They may have hated each other, not speaking at all in four years, but they were polite enough to give each other half-hearted congratulatory messages on social media for university graduation.

Everyone did it, right? It was the thing to do for birthdays and graduations, like some unspoken rule. Perhaps it would bring them closer, start the path of building up the bridge back to friendship that they had burned years ago. It was unlikely, but he’d never know if he never tried.

Chan wondered how much Changbin had changed in the previous four years. He had typed up an apology that spanned several pages of text, had it saved in his message drafts for weeks, but never built up the courage to send it. The overwhelming guilt and shame for treating his former best friend so poorly would never allow him to send that message.

Changbin appeared to be happy for once, losing himself in his studies and performances, happy and in love with his fiancé Jung Wooyoung, a classmate of theirs that also ended up at Yale. Everything seemed to be going well for him; Changbin had just accepted a job with some renowned symphonic orchestra that he was moving cross-country for.

Perhaps they would never mend, and this was fate telling Chan to move on.

Changbin saw Chan’s polite “congrats, man” timeline post, and couldn’t help but scoff at how insincere it came off to him. He had stalked Chan’s profile for the entire four years they didn’t speak to each other, seeing some bad drunken frat party photos, reading interesting concepts he proposed about the transformational theories in music, and watched a couple of short-lived relationships bloom and subsequently fizzle out within only a couple of months. Chan was always chaotic, and Changbin kind of missed that unpredictable nature about him. Someday he’d reach out, he figured, but that day wasn’t today.

It had been a couple of months since graduation. Changbin had a stressful time planning a move cross-country that his now former fiancé didn’t support. Fuck it, he figured, a career with the symphonic orchestra in Seattle was worth it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, something that was incredibly selective, that he was invited to be a part of, and he deserved it. Wooyoung was halfway out of the door, anyway. They were always picture-perfect online, but Wooyoung stopped putting in any effort into the relationship well over a year ago, something about “focusing” on some technical project that he’d likely never complete.

Wooyoung never completed anything, and when Changbin broke off their engagement, the younger man simply shrugged it off.

It didn’t matter. Out with the old, in with the new. Whatever it took to convince Changbin to stay sane, to feel like he hadn’t wasted three years on someone not worth his time. He didn’t resent Wooyoung, but their relationship felt like it was lacking from beginning to end. Maybe he would find someone that would light a spark within him on the other side of the continent.

From the week he spent in Seattle during his interview and audition, Changbin deemed that Seattle was far superior to Connecticut, anyways: something about its dreamy, rainy, “chronically sipping lukewarm earl grey tea while listening to chill synthwave” vibe excited him. It was something completely different than what he was used to, and it was going to be drastically different than the uptight nature that the east coast gave off.

Connecticut was vivacissimo. Seattle was andante . It was time for something calming and slow paced for once in his life.

It only took Changbin an hour to bring in everything from his car and settle into his new apartment. The human resources team was kind enough to help him find a cozy, furnished apartment that was a short walk away from work. It was nestled in the bustling Capitol Hill neighbourhood, and he knew he was going to love sitting inside and watching people scurry about from his third-floor balcony. He had a few days to settle in before he would show up for orientation, and he couldn’t wait to explore the area.

For now, though, he would unpack a bit, then sleep. A week and a half of driving cross-country, while beautiful, was exhausting. Three thousand miles. Constant playlist shuffling. Talk radio while driving through Illinois and Wisconsin to hear asinine political commentary. Getting carsick and vomiting where I-90 met I-35 in Minnesota. Nearly breaking down close to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. Almost hitting a coyote in Montana. Seeing the sunrise as he drove over a mountain pass as he approached the Idaho state border. The thrill of finally approaching Seattle and getting lost as he made a wrong turn, somehow ending up in Tacoma. It was an adventurous trip, but it sapped the life from him.

There was one thing, however, he could rely upon to restore his drained energy: his viola.

He took his prized, cherished viola out of its well-maintained case, running his thumb over the chip under his chin rest, and Changbin felt like he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. This viola got him through so many hard times in life, keeping him grounded and sane regardless of how hectic his schedule was from the last half of high school and all throughout university. If he was stressed, he would simply take the viola out of its case and let something flow from him.

As he brought the viola up to his chin, strategically placing his fingers at the end of his bow, he looked out the window taking in the view of the sunset, and aimlessly started playing something. It somehow slowly blended into his part from Lament, which was a duet that he and Chan had performed their junior year of high school.

Perhaps it was because Chan had been invading his thoughts lately, but his improvised practices always turned into Lament . It was a beautiful duet; they had won first place at the state competition for it, earning a perfect score, which was something that was incredibly rare; it helped them pad their resumes to get into Ivy League universities. They practiced for months, starting the summer before their junior year, because they wanted to actually take home an award for it. “We’ll show them,” Chan arrogantly smirked as he puffed out his chest. “We’re better than just some deeper violins stuck in the middle of the orchestra. That’ll teach them all for making fun of us.”

Changbin remembered being nervous about it. The sweat beading on his palms as they waited in the wings of the stage prior to their performance, the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, the sound of the blood rushing between his ears. He was so nervous that he would trip, or he would drop his viola, maybe that everything would go impossibly wrong. However, the minute he and Chan looked at each other as they prepared to start their duet, a sense of calm overtook him, and he lost himself within the music.

Somehow, they managed to make it through the entire performance without faltering. As soon as they were hidden behind the black curtains of the stage, Chan gave Changbin the closest, warmest hug he had ever received in his life.

“I told you we’d do it, man!” Chan excitedly whispered into Changbin’s ear. “You fucking killed it!”

“You did really well, too,” Changbin had shyly whispered back, offering a couple of nervous pats in between Chan’s shoulder blades. He remembered feeling lucky that the backstage area was so dark, because it was very obviously apparent that he was blushing.

He pulled himself from the memory, unable to finish playing his part from the duet, the notes sounding correct, yet feeling dissonant in his heart as he played. His shoulders drooped as he stared off into the skyscrapers far off in the distance. Sure, the relationship he had with Wooyoung was tumultuous, but Changbin wasn’t entirely innocent, either, often daydreaming about Chan during the most inopportune times.

When Wooyoung would dance his fingers against Changbin’s bare flesh in the darkness of their room, he was guilty of letting his mind wander to the what-ifs: what if Chan were there? Would Chan nip at Changbin’s neck with the same passion? How warm would Chan’s breath feel against his earlobe as his teeth dug into the tender flesh? Would he take Changbin in his arms and pepper his skin with soft kisses and haphazard ‘I love you’s as they tangled themselves up in each other?

It was insufferably suffocating, being weighed down by the ghosts of his past as he tried to move forward with his life.

For a long time, Changbin was infatuated with Chan. Starting in seventh grade, he wanted to spend time with only Chan; they would spend their weekends and summer vacations together, text each other until they fell asleep, and they were a part of all of the same extracurricular activities. To most people, all the way up until their junior year, they were essentially brothers that weren’t related by blood.

Nobody could have been closer than them.

One night, not long after they received the results that they had gotten a perfect score on their duet, Chan invited Changbin to a party at their friend’s house. Changbin, being the shy introvert that he was, would have said no otherwise, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Chan. There was nothing special or memorable about the house party itself, not until they both drunkenly stumbled into an empty bed together.

They had slept next to each other several times, but this was different. Changbin wrapped his arm around Chan’s chest, tucking his head underneath the elder’s chin, letting himself get lost in the warmth of their embrace. The alcohol convinced him it was a great time to be honest — perhaps a bit too honest.

“Chan,” Changbin had slurred out in a near-whisper. “Can I, uh, tell you something?”

“What’s up, dude?” Chan responded, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Changbin took in a deep breath, and sat up, staring down at Chan in the dark. “I think…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed audibly, “I think I kinda like you?”

Chan just laughed, patting Changbin’s thigh. “I like you too, dude. It’s why we’re friends.”

“Nah,” the brunette huffed, smelling the stale, cheap beer on his breath and shuddering as he shook his head. “Not like that.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“Like,” a moment passed and Changbin recoiled into himself. “I like you, dude. I wanna take this to the next level. I dunno, man, this shit’s awkward and hard to admit.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Chan sat up and leaned in close to Changbin. “Bin,” he sighed, firmly gripping his junior’s thigh, “I like you, too, but I don’t know. We could, like, seriously fuck up our friendship. I mean, you saw what Seonghwa did to Hongjoong when they went from friends to boyfriends.” He hiccupped and awkwardly chuckled to ease the tension blooming between them. “I don’t wanna ruin what we’ve got, since we’re basically brothers and shit.”

Changbin shook his head. It really was stupid, after all. The alcohol, however, gave him confidence that he didn’t ask for and didn’t need right now. He batted his eyelashes and brought his face in, up close to Chan. “Can I at least kiss you to see how it feels?”

Chan giggled, likely out of nervousness and drunkenness. “I mean, I don’t see why not. But neither you nor I have kissed anyone, ’s probably gonna be weird.”

“I don’t care.” The words left Changbin’s lips as he boldly reached up to Chan’s neck, pulling them closer to each other. It was awkward, painfully obvious that they really didn’t know what they were doing. Their lips were a little too dry for it to feel as magical as Changbin expected. Still, they continued; a tiny spark igniting between the two of them. It may have been awkward, but it didn’t feel wrong.

Chan brought his hand up to Changbin’s soft, brown hair, letting his fingers grip the strands gently. He brought his other hand up to the small of the brunette’s back, pulling him in. They couldn’t quite figure out which side their noses should be on, and when they opened their mouths to let their tongues adventure around, they clashed their teeth together one too many times, causing pain to echo throughout their heads.

Regardless of the awkward nature of their kiss, it was perfect for them. It felt like they kissed each other for hours, eventually rolling around the sheets, fingers skirting around on warm, flushed skin. Changbin didn’t even remember falling asleep, just the comfort of losing himself in Chan’s touch.

The next morning, however, was far from perfect. They were both grossly hungover, and Chan was oddly distant. “I dunno, dude,” he had sleepily grumbled, avoiding looking at Changbin at all, “I still don’t know if this is right.”

Chan was going to say more, but Changbin waved him off in a panic with feigned confidence. “Nah, dude, it was just us being drunk.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry for being weird, I guess I was just a little too curious to have a kiss. Shame our first kisses were while we were drunk, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chan awkwardly smiled, “little weird, but whatever.”

Unsurprisingly, they started having problems not long after that. Chan had started getting irritated with Changbin putting more and more focus into his studies, starting to surpass him academically. Then, Changbin got first chair for the violas in orchestra. He beat out two seniors, and Chan was right behind him. Chan was always right behind him in everything. They were so close, they were like minor seconds in a chord: just two notes right next to each other that sounded uncomfortably dissonant when played together.

When Changbin got stressed, he focused. Conversely, when Chan stressed, he brooded.

“Come on, man,” Chan had whined right after practice one day, “you and I both got that perfect score on our duet. How’d you get lead first chair over me?”

The annoyance of Chan’s constant negative behaviour was draining on Changbin, causing the younger man to grow more and more irritated by the second. “I don’t fucking know, okay?” He snapped while opening his viola’s case. “Someone had to get it, and it was me. Stop taking out your shit on me, man, it’s exhausting.”

Chan frowned in response. “I’m not taking it out on you,” he huffed, “you’re just getting a lot of good shit lately, and it’s not fair.”

“You should have fucking tried harder, then!” Changbin shouted, taking a step towards Chan, clutching the neck of his viola tightly. “You know what’s not fair? What’s not fair is the fact that you’re being a broody sack of shit at me because you’re just not practicing as hard or studying as hard and that’s not my goddamned fault! You need to grow the fuck up, dude.”

Chan scowled and shoved Changbin back in anger, harder than he anticipated. He didn’t expect it to be such a rough shove, but Changbin didn’t always have a good sense of balance. The younger man tumbled backwards, and his viola hit the ground with a thud, a discordant twang coming from the delicate instrument and echoing throughout the room.

The silence that followed the scuffle was deafening. Chan tried to apologize, knowing just how important Changbin’s viola was to him, but he just incoherently sputtered and panicked. Changbin stared up at Chan in horror, blinking away tears that were budding up in his eyelids.

“How could you?”

It was the last thing that Changbin said to Chan for months.

The memories flooding up in Changbin’s head caused a gnawing pain to bloom within his stomach as he stared out the window, the sky now a deep shade of indigo. He sighed, then put his viola back into its case. He thought playing it would make him happy, more comfortable in his new apartment in a new town, but it just made him feel cold and alone. It felt like there was nothing but dissonant chords reverberating inside of him.

Changbin stared down at his viola, hesitating to close the case. The chip from the day it collided against the ground was still there, glaringly obvious as the memory burned itself into his head. He recalled that the musician that repaired his viola offered to fix it up, even though it was just a surface blemish and wouldn’t cause any musical problems. “No,” Changbin had told the man, “it’s right under the chin rest, so I’ll see it every time I go to play it. It’ll remind me to be more cautious.”

Cautious of his instrument, that’s probably what it sounded like to the musician. What Changbin really meant, however, was how he’d be cautious of letting anyone close to him in the future, no matter who it was.

Uncertainty rushed over him, but Changbin was certain of one thing: he needed to get Chan out of his head. Sooner, rather than later. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when he started with the symphony.

Maybe he’d be alone forever.

Monday came quickly, and Changbin was running early. He had left far too early, showing up nearly an hour before he needed to be at the practice hall. He shrugged the nervousness from his shoulders as he made his way to a nearby cafe to grab something caffeinated to help perk him up. Seven in the morning was far too early for his schedule after all of this time off from university.

It was a brief walk, maybe only a couple of minutes to the cafe down the street. Changbin opened the door, inanely scrolling through his emails as he walked through the front door and got in line. There was one email from the conductor, Lee Minho, sent out to everyone earlier that morning, welcoming the new members of the orchestra. Names, ages, instruments, and where they were from.

“What can I get for you?” The barista at the counter politely asked, causing Changbin to look up from his phone, his face flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered, locking his phone, sliding it into his pocket. “I’ll take a shot in the dark, medium, three shots, please.���

“Your name?”

“Changbin.” He was curious to see how terribly the barista would butcher his name as he tapped his card against the payment terminal. A minute later, he stepped off to the side, grabbing his phone to scroll through the email again. Since he was early, he might as well try and learn who was who and where they sat, what they played.

The wind and brass instruments were first. A new French horn player, a new trombonist, a new bassoonist, a new flautist. He was about to scroll through the percussion and string players when the second barista mumbled something that sounded kind of like his name. He walked up and grabbed the paper cup that was placed on the countertop, eyeing the scribble on the cup that barely resembled his name, rolling his eyes at the attempt.

Changbin took a cautious sip of the hot liquid as he made his way towards the front of the cafe, taking a seat at the window bar, placing his viola case down on the ground and his cup on the table, looking through his email. He didn’t care about the percussion section, but when he got to the strings, he perked up a bit. Two new violinists, two new violists, and a new cellist.

There was another new violist along with him, and Changbin bit his lip in excitement. He wondered who they were, where they were from. Then he saw the name, right under his. He stopped tapping his toes in excitement and his jaw dropped. If he was holding his coffee cup, he would have dropped it in shock.

Viola: Changbin S., 22, Connecticut. B.A., M.M., Music: Yale University.

Viola: Chan B., 23, New Hampshire. B.A., Music Performance: Dartmouth University.

“Holy shit,” Changbin whispered as all of the colour drained from his face. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way that Chan was actually in Seattle. There had to have been another Chan from Dartmouth that was coming all the way here, right? That it wasn't just some crazy fever dream that Changbin was having?

He sat and stared at the email on his phone until the screen automatically turned off from inactivity. If Chan was seriously going to be in the symphonic orchestra with him, right next to him, what was he going to do? The two of them hadn't said anything more than polite passing phrases over their birthdays or for their graduations over social media, for fuck's sake. What the hell was going to happen when — no, if, it had to stay as an if — the two of them met?

The soft bell of the front door opening made Changbin shake his head, crashing back to reality. He turned his phone over, putting it down on the counter so he didn't have to look at it, and brought his cup back up to his lips. The coffee in the cup was nice, a bit more mellow and mild compared to the coffee he was used to on the east coast, like this was brewed with care and love, not in a hurry for someone just trying to get their fix.

“That's the third symphony,” a quiet voice came up behind Changbin, his ears twitching a bit as he heard something related to music. Perhaps this person was another musician, part of the orchestra? Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he turned his head over his shoulder and actually dropped his cup, spilling the warm liquid all over the table and into his lap. In a rush, he grabbed his phone as he stood and let out a crisp, sharp interjection.

As the coffee cooled in his lap and the barista from earlier approached him with a towel, his brain caught up to the realization that his former best friend-turned-rival, Chan, was right behind him. Before he could fully process what that meant, Changbin found himself madly dashing back to his apartment, phone in one hand, viola case in the other. Reality hit him in the face and burned as much as his scorched legs as he collided into the door of his apartment.

This wasn't a dream.

Changbin was thankful that he was always early to things. After rushing to apply some burn cream to his legs and change into a fresh outfit, he had somehow made it back to the concert hall with fifteen minutes to spare. He gripped the handle to his viola's case tightly, palms sweating as he tried so hard not to panic. Beyond the doors of the practice hall, he knew that Chan was going to be there. Nothing he did could prepare him for that, and he knew it.

He took in a deep breath, and let off a quick exhale as he pushed the door open. The crowd of other players was massive — there had to be nearly a hundred people crowded up in small circles. The newer people were very obvious, awkwardly off to the side in their respective sections. Some people were off in random seats, tuning their instruments. Then, in the middle of the room, he saw someone seated, alone, anxiously scrolling through his phone. It was the same brassy blonde that was in the cafe.

Chan.

Almost as if the energy in the room cooled as Changbin entered, Chan shifted in his seat and aimlessly scanned the room, looking at the other members, until his eyes landed on Changbin, and his lips parted. They stared at each other, seemingly like they were frozen in space and time, that there was no one else around. A conflicting rush of warmth, excitement, and terror washed over Changbin all at once as he stared at his former best friend.

Changbin shook his head, letting his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. “This is going to be fine,” he quietly reassured himself as he walked towards the middle of the room. “You two don't have to look at each other, speak to each other, just be civil. If you're lucky, you won't even have to interact much. Hopefully.”

That was a boldfaced lie, but it helped reassure Changbin in the slightest way possible.

“Hi,” Chan awkwardly whispered as Changbin got close. “Long time, no see, huh?”

He simply couldn't resist looking up at Chan and somehow wrinkling his face up into an uncomfortable grin. “Hi, Chan.” His tone was a bit cold, but what else could he do? They left each other on horrible terms, not even speaking to each other during their high school graduation ceremony. Changbin had given his valedictorian speech, and remembered Chan walking up to the podium, giving him a pitiful expression as they crossed paths.

“Looks like your assigned seat is right next to me.” There's a tapping noise as Chan's fingernail repeatedly strikes the plastic seat next to him. A large, black binder sat atop the chair, with "Changbin S., Viola’ emblazoned on the top of it in silver, serif lettering.

Fate was a cruel bastard.

Changbin stifled a sigh under his breath, placing his viola's case underneath the chair as he grabbed the binder. He sat down in his seat, pretending to rifle through the paperwork. There was simply no way that he could focus, knowing that Chan was right next to him. It was completely awkward and uncomfortable. Changbin could practically feel the warmth of the blonde sitting next to him, even though they were about a foot away from each other.

“We're gonna pretend like all that time together never happened, huh?” Chan's voice was cold, and he tsked as he brought his phone back up to his face. “I really thought four years would've changed you, Bin.”

Changbin slammed the binder shut and leaned into Chan's face. His eyes darted around, knowing that he was getting some strange glances from people that weren't preoccupied, but it didn't matter. “You're the one that refused to grow up and handle things responsibly like an adult. I don't want to hear another fucking passive aggressive word about this from you.” His tone was hushed, but venomous and seething. “You had all this time to apologize, but you never did. I sincerely hope we don't have to interact much, because this two year contract is going to be hell on me if you're here.”

Chan scoffed. “Whatever, dude,” he shook his head and looked back to his phone. “I just wanted to try and be civil, but if you wanna play that game, then you can. Go right ahead.”

This was outrageous. Changbin opened his mouth to say something, but a man with a calm demeanour walked into the room, his presence demanding attention from everyone as they scattered to their seats.

“Good morning, everyone,” his voice boomed throughout the corridor. It was soft, inviting. “Welcome to your first day of the season. If you would kindly find your seats, we'll get started in a few moments.”

Changbin awkwardly fumbled with his binder, resting it on the music stand in front of him, then bent down to pick up his viola's case. He undid the latches, and pulled out the instrument, his eyes fixated on that damned chip under the chin rest. Naturally, after he stared at the chip for longer than necessary, he lifted his eyes up to Chan, who was rubbing his bow against the brick of resin in his hand.

Chan was always delicate with his instrument. He put in so much love when he polished his viola prior to competitions and performances, always lovingly eyed the hairs of his bow as he carefully watched the resin coat each strand. Typically, he would hum some inane melody to himself as he got lost in the process, in the care of what he did.

Today, Chan wasn't humming.

It felt like the energy around him had gone from its usual bright cheerfulness, and turned into a dark, gloomy cloud.

“Please,” the instructor spoke yet again, looking up from his stack of paperwork on the podium, “if you haven't done so, begin tuning your instruments. Hopefully they're all tuned up, but I'm sure some of you have been slacking since we last practiced together, hmm?”

Changbin didn't need to tune his viola, since he tuned it last night in anticipation, but he went along and pretended to tune it with his plastic electric tuner. The light shone green as he kept strumming against the C string. Changbin tried to stare at the light, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Chan. While he wasn't humming, the elder still put in so much tender energy while he cared for his viola.

It had been all this time, but Changbin still felt his abdomen and chest light up with fire when he saw Chan, no matter how much it hurt. It was apparent that Changbin was still so madly in love with him, even after all of these years and all of the emotional torment they had put each other through.

This man was going to be the death of him.

The beginning of the first day with the symphony wasn't eventful. There were some warm-ups and some scales practice, but that was simply to get everyone prepared for the performance season. After all of that, the conductor, Minho, went through each section and asked the new members to introduce themselves. Percussion went first, then woodwinds, brass, strings. Second-to-last was the viola group, and Chan went first.

“Chan,” he said with a smile, his dimple prominently on display, “I'm 23, originally from New York, but I've been in New Hampshire for the past four years thanks to university. I recently graduated, with honours, top of my class, from the music performance faculty at Dartmouth. I hope we all get along well and you'll treat me kindly. Let's have a great season!” He sat down, and his smile faded as Changbin rose.

“Yeah, uh, hello,” Changbin awkwardly stuttered, folding his hands together behind his back. “I'm Changbin, 22, also originally from New York, but I've been in Connecticut for the last four years where I matriculated at Yale. I have a bachelor's and master's in music, specifically: music performance for viola and piano. I've been playing the viola for most of my life, and I hope I will serve everyone well here. Uh,” he paused, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.”

There were a couple of polite chuckles as Changbin sat down. Despite having a penchant for giving well-manicured speeches, he hated giving unprepared introductions. He felt tense enough already, knowing that Chan was right next to him, making him all the more uncomfortable.

The new violinists introduced themselves, and Minho clapped once. “Excellent,” he praised. “Now that introductions are out of the way, please split off into your respective subsections until I'm able to get to each individual group and assess your skills for placements. Those of you that have finished by your lunch break are welcome to leave, unless your principal seat deems otherwise.”

A couple of musicians groaned.

“It's nearly autumn,” Minho said with a soft smile as he adjusted his necktie, “you all know that placement seats, other than principal seats, aren't guaranteed.”

Changbin nervously swallowed. He knew that placements were, yet again, going to be a source of contention for both of them. Chan was top of his class at Dartmouth; Changbin was top of his class at Yale. Both of them were going to be a force to be reckoned with, especially up against other top-class talent.

This orchestra recorded for multiple high-budget films and would perform in the pits of renowned theatrical performances. There were just over a hundred seats in the orchestra, but thousands applied for open spots after contracts ended and spots opened up. It was nerve-wracking, and Changbin wasn't confident that he, for the first time since high school, would be placed in one of the first viola chairs.

“Hey,” a voice perked up as everyone started to shift around and break off into their own groups. “I'm Seungmin,” a young man stood in front of Chan and Changbin, probably about the same age as them. “I'm the principal chair for the viola section. Changbin and Chan, right?” Both of them silently nodded once in affirmation. “Nice, Ivy Leaguers like me. Cornell, graduated last year. Anyway, don't worry too much about placements. Not much you can do until you actually have to perform, and Minho is pretty great about making you feel comfortable if you're nervous. Why not come meet everyone in the section?”

There were polite greetings and less-formal introductions shared, a couple of people made jokes to ease the tension, as to be expected. Seungmin discussed the projected schedule for the season, going over some of the pieces that they would need to practice together and individually. They went over all of the general housekeeping, discussed the placement procedures, and that they were free to go after they were done, since there was no real point in sticking around for the rest of the day.

“Alright, well,” Seungmin stood up as his alarm went off, “lunch starts now, so I'm gonna head off. See ya in an hour; just meet up here and don't be late. For strings, the violin section goes first, then us.”

Changbin looked down to the floor, an uneasy pit growing in his stomach. Part of him knew he should stay and practice, just to get his mind in the right order, but he couldn't pull himself away from the fact that Chan was still there, right next to him.

“Get up,” Chan muttered, lightly tapping Changbin's chair with his foot, startling the brunette to attention. “Look, dude,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and huffed with discontent, “I know we haven't spoken in years, but there's some things I wanna talk to you about before we go in and compete against each other for yet another stupid thing. Come grab lunch with me, alright?”

“I'm not hungry.” Changbin's eyes darted to the side, furrowing his brows in frustration. He just wanted to focus on practicing his piece for placements; there was no time to worry about eating at a time like this.

“No,” an exasperated sigh came from Chan as he folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “You're just nervous and you don't wanna talk to me. Unless you've drastically changed, you do this shit before performances, too. Just come on, it's not gonna be that bad, I promise.”

Changbin wasn't sure why he agreed to this. The two of them sat at a table in the hipster pho shop next to the cafe, awkwardly poking at their warm bowls of noodles and broth as they sat in silence for at least a good five minutes. “So,” the younger man sighed, “what did you want to talk about?”

The blonde sucked his lips in between his teeth and chewed on them for a second before he set his chopsticks down into the bowl and looked up, meeting Changbin's gaze with a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. “Changbin,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side, “all those years ago, I was horrible to you.”

“I know.” The brunette abruptly cut him off, seething through his teeth while he sat back in his chair.

“Bin,” the older man shook his head, his eyes wincing with pain, “dude, I had this big ass draft saved in my messages that I wanted to send to you after we graduated.” He brought an elbow to the table and nestled his head into his palm. “For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ever send it. I don't know why; it was probably out of embarrassment and cowardice. The way I treated you all that time, over some stupid competitive shit, I'm sorry, Changbin. Honestly, I'm so sorry.”

A tsk left Changbin's lips as he rolled his eyes away, looking at the wall to his side, just for a moment. He leaned in, pressing his arm into the table, mere inches away from Chan. “Yeah, you did a lot of shit, and yeah, I know you’re sorry or whatever. But you know what hurts me the most, Chan?”

Chan nervously swallowed and bit his lip.

“You did all of this shit to me after I kissed you. None of this started until then.” Changbin shook his head in disappointment. “I'm not upset about the way you reacted, not really, at least, but I am upset over the fact that you kissed me back so hard, like you actually wanted me as more than a friend. After all that, you started treating me so horribly, like you had to prove that you were better than me. Like our years of friendship suddenly didn’t matter anymore.”

“Changbin, I just couldn’t—” Chan started, but Changbin sat back and shook his head, speaking up and cutting off the blonde.

“You hurt me.” There were tears budding up in the brunette's eyes. “It's taken you four and a half years to apologize. Chan, I’ve waited for fucking years for this. I wish you would have sent me some bullshit, half-assed stupid text message apology that summer. It would have hurt less than this. All of this time, I thought you hated me. That my best friend wanted nothing to do with me. Nothing else hurts more than that, to have your favourite person in the entire world suddenly hate you, and it’s all because you thought he had feelings for you, too, but he just threw them back in your face and laughed at your pain.”

Changbin stood up and grabbed his phone from off of the table. “I'm not ready to forgive you, Chan. Not after all of this shit. So, please,” a couple of tears rolled down his face as he bit his bottom lip, “just respect me enough to leave me alone for a little while. I need to think about this, about us.”

He stormed off before Chan could attempt to stop him. An overwhelming fear of nervousness took over: partially due to the unsteady ground their relationship was on, and partially due to the fact that his placement exam was going to take place soon, and Changbin was nowhere near the right mental capacity for that.

“Shouldn’t have done this,” Changbin whispered to himself as he wiped the tears from his face, his footsteps hard and heavy against the concrete sidewalk. “Fuck you, Chan.”

“Capriccio,” Minho smiled, his face relaxed and expression warm. He held his clipboard in hand as Changbin eyed the sheets of music in front of him. “Composed by Vieuxtemps. I picked this as the sight reading for today’s placement exams.” The conductor was welcoming enough, but his calm demeanour didn’t ease the nervousness vibrating throughout Changbin’s body.

All those years ago, I was horrible to you. Chan’s apology still sounded so clear in his head, Changbin constantly replaying the memory unwillingly as the notes on the sheet music danced around, tangling itself up into an unintelligible mess.

“Changbin?”

I’m so sorry, Changbin. He was so angry: at Chan, at himself, at the fact that he ran away, that he couldn’t concentrate on the important task at hand in front of him.

“Hey,” Minho’s voice was layered with concern as it pulled Changbin from his thoughts. “Are you feeling alright? It’s just a standard placement exam, nothing to be too nervous over.”

Changbin stood in the empty office, viola carefully cradled in his hands as he blinked his way back into focus, the sheet music suddenly becoming clear and normal. “Sorry,” he shook his head, trying to rid Chan’s voice from the depths of his ears, “I guess I’m just nervous.” Capriccio. It was a piece Changbin had heard, but he had never played it before, as to be expected for sight reading, but the anxiousness in his stomach blossomed like a large black lily of doubt, poking its petals at his ribcage. “How long do I have to look at this?”

“I’ll give you two minutes to look over it,” Minho leaned against the back of his chair and rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Once you’re ready to start playing, I’ll take notes. We’ll do the scales exercise before that, as well as a piece of your choosing. Are you sure you’re ready, Changbin?”

“I’ll be fine,” Changbin huffed, trying to calm the nerves inside of him as he readied his viola. He had to be fine, he had to beat out Chan with this. “Let’s do the scales, then.”

Changbin kept telling himself that had to beat Chan, but he didn’t know exactly why.

“Hey, man!” Seungmin said with excitement as he patted Changbin on the back, right outside of the practice room. “How'd it go?”

Changbin groaned and rolled his eyes, gripping the neck of his viola a bit tighter. “It was alright,” he grumbled, walking to where his case laid on his chair. Chan had gone before him, and was deliberately looking away from Changbin as he approached. As soon as he started shuffling with his case, Chan got up with an exasperated sigh and walked away.

“Are you two,” Seungmin pressed, lowering his voice as he approached Changbin, “do you know each other or something? I'm getting some weird vibes from you both.”

The brunette gritted his teeth as his bottom eyelid twitched. “We were classmates, yeah,” he admits, “back in high school.”

“Oh! That's exciting!”

“No,” Changbin sighed, “I wish it was more interesting than that, but we stopped talking after we both got into different universities”. It wasn't a complete lie, yet it wasn't a complete truth, either. Changbin quickly weighed the options of being honest with Seungmin about how strained their relationship was, and chose to just fake it for the greater morale of the group. They were both too new to start something so petty so early on in the season.

Seungmin grinned as Changbin turned around. “Well, hey,” he bopped his head back and forth to the side, humming a bit, “it's kinda cool when you've got people that know each other and work well together in the same group. Maybe the violas will be a bit stronger this year.”

“We'll see,” Changbin said with a fake smile. Whether he was talking about the group or about his relationship with Chan was uncertain.

It was nearly a full day until placement results were revealed. Both Changbin and Chan got first chair, but they were at the bottom of five. What stung the most, however, was that Chan had beaten Changbin, likely due to nerves.

Changbin was at the bottom of something for the first time in his life, and he didn't know how to handle the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

“Sorry,” Chan whispered as they both stared at the sheet. “At least we're both first chairs, not second, though, yeah?”

He shouldn't have been upset, because these were some of the best performers in the entire country, but Changbin was seething. Fists clenched, teeth gritting, and he was sweating with how infuriated he was at being in the bottom for the first time. Ever. Seos were never anything but first, and this was going to eat at him from the inside out for a long time, especially since he was beaten out by Chan of all people.

“Hey, guys,” Seungmin leaned up against the wall, causing them both to break their gaze at the sheet of paper for a moment. “Congratulations on getting first chairs during your first contract year. Not many people get that.”

Changbin didn't care if “many people” got first chair or not, he was still fixated on the fact that he got beaten out by Chan. He wanted the assistant principal seat, but wasn’t even remotely close to it. So, he determined he’d have to work harder, to set his eyes on the principal seat when placements opened. This step backwards could cost him that opportunity when it came up in the spring, and he hated it.

Chan elbowed Changbin in the side, causing the brunette to snap back to reality.

“What?” The younger man bit back, viscerally reacting as his eyes widened and he bared his teeth. He wanted so desperately to throw Chan up against the wall and yell at him for distracting him right before his placement exam, when he knew he should have just stayed back and practiced. Chan broke his routine and all Changbin could think about during the exam was how angry he was at his former best friend.

“Chill out,” Chan sighed, eyes widening for a brief moment in shock. “Seungmin just asked if the two of us had any plans after practice.”

Seungmin shook his head. “It's cool if you do,” he smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension blooming around them, “a bunch of us, including most of the newbies, are all going out to Vivace. It’s that little bar down the street. Could be a good chance for everyone to get to know each other a bit better. Seems like you two have a head start on that, but now it's time for us to get to know you.”

His voice was sickeningly optimistic. Changbin gritted his teeth together under pursed lips and was about to decline, until Chan spoke up for both of them. “Yeah,” he said in a fake pleasant voice, “Changbin and I are down for that.”

“Don't speak for me,” Changbin said through his teeth, but Chan turned to look at him and frowned.

“Team morale. Be a good player, dude.”

Brooding. Failure. Fucking failure.

Changbin never was one to brood, but he was never one to fail, either. Today was a day of firsts, none of them good. He frowned as he leaned over his glass of warmed cognac, staring down into it in disgust at his reflection. The entire group was bonding with each other, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, and he was being the awkward loner in the corner again, silent and reserved.

“That didn't seriously happen,” a young man with short platinum blonde hair drunkenly giggled. Felix, probably. That's the name that Changbin thought he heard him mention when they all introduced themselves. He was the new French horn player. “Hyunjin, dude, you've gotta stop it with picking up random people in clubs.”

“It's Cap Hill, baby,” the man with long, black hair half-heartedly whined, martini against his lips. Hyunjin. Second chair cellist. “Sometimes you see someone hot, and you just gotta take them home, y’know? Of course you don’t, you’re too prudish to get fucking laid.”

A laugh bubbled up from the group, but both Chan and Changbin were staying relatively quiet. “Hey,” Chan said in a low voice, leaning against the table that Changbin was resting his elbows on. “You should come participate with everyone.”

“Why?” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Nobody here really cares about each other. It's all polite bullshit anyways.”

“Seriously, would you just fucking stop with this mopey shit, dude?” Chan tried to keep his voice down, setting his pint of stout on the table. “Come on, you're not a kid anymore.”

Changbin tilted his head back and sighed. “I never lose, man,” he brought his head back upright, staring down Chan as the alcohol loosened his lips. “You know I've never come in second, much less last, for anything. Let me just be down for once.”

As Chan opened his mouth to retort, another short, young man came up to the table. Jisung, the lead second chair violinist slammed his lager on the table with a wide grin. “What’s up, newbies? We're doing shots. Team bonding, yeah?”

Changbin's lip curled up in disgust, already annoyed by how chipper the other man was. “I don't do shots,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung dismissively waved his hand in the air and scoffed. “We get it, you’re pretentious and better than us or whatever. You're doing a shot with us anyways, a'ight? If you're drinking, it ain't optional.”

Seungmin, Felix, and a quiet brunette carried a few small glasses of amber liquid, setting the tiny shot glasses down on the table. “I don't know why you recommended Fireball for this, dude,” Hyunjin grumbled as he shook his head, taking a shot glass from the table and stepping right behind Jisung.

“It's good!” The smaller black-haired man shouted with a wide smile. “I've met nobody that doesn't like this stuff.”

“I hate it,” Changbin grumbled in protest, vaguely recalling memories of getting hammered on the foul liquid during a house party his sophomore year of college. A layer of regret gripped at his ribcage, thinking of the way Wooyoung’s boozy breath lingered on his lips as they made out on the patio of some stranger’s house. The regret clawed at him while he recalled how he looked up at the stars and wished that it was Chan there instead of Wooyoung. “I hate it a lot,” he repeated, unsure if he was still talking about the liquor or if he was talking about the memory creeping into his head.

His quip earned him a finger in the face from the loud young man, pulling him from his lamenting. “Not tonight, you don't. You can hate it after our fifth shot of it. Hate it tomorrow morning. Yeah?”

Everyone grabbed a shot glass, several reaching out in reluctance, and Seungmin puffed his chest out. “Alright,” he proudly said with a triumphant grin, holding his glass in the air, “we're gonna have a great year. Newbies and violists may be outcasts, but we're all a family. Yeah?”

The group let out an affirmative, albeit jumbled, noise.

“On three,” Jisung said with a smirk, then counted to three. All of the men lifted their glasses to their lips and chugged down the cloyingly sweet and uncomfortably spicy cinnamon-flavoured liquor.

“Oh, that's horrid,” Changbin shuddered, nearly dropping the shot glass as he recoiled. Chan nodded his head as he hissed, while Seungmin and Felix scrunched their faces in discomfort.

“You're disgusting, Ji. Let's get more!” The brunette from earlier perked up, the first time Changbin caught him speaking during the gathering. “It's not a good night unless someone pukes before we leave, yeah?”

Jisung slapped his hand on the table and collected the empty glasses from everyone. “Hell yeah, Jeongin, that's my dude!”

It wasn’t until the cool, late summer breeze hit Changbin as he stumbled outside that he realized that that fifth shot of Fireball that Jisung convinced everyone to take was, in fact, not a good idea. He groaned to himself as the cool air gradually revitalized him. “That shit was horrible.”

“Yeah,” Chan's aching voice slurred up from behind him. “You gonna be good getting home, Bin?”

Changbin wouldn't have responded if he was sober. He would have, and should have, just walked away, waved Chan off with an insincerely polite farewell, but the alcohol gave him a slight boost of confidence. He shrugged and sighed. “Probably. I live just down the street, uh,” he brought one hand to his temple as he blinked, eyeing his surroundings, eventually slinging his right arm up and pointed lazily towards the right, “that way. Somewhere.”

“You've never been a good drunk, have you?” Chan sighed, walking up to Changbin and interlocking his arm with the younger man’s, gently pulling him towards the direction he pointed in.

The brunette shook his head a few times and whined. “What're you doing?”

“Making sure you get home in one piece.”

“You dunno where I live, man.”

Chan tugged Changbin’s arm a bit and sighed. “You said this way, so I'm making sure you go that way. Besides, I live over here, too. It's on the way.”

“The Bushnell Apartments.”

The blonde stopped in his tracks and stared down at his drunken compatriot in shock. “How'd you know?”

“What?” The younger man lazily lifted his head up and knitted his brows together in confusion.

“That's where I live, dude.”

“No,” Changbin scoffed, “you big dummy, that's where I live.”

“Wait a minute,” Chan chuckled inwardly, “you live in the same complex as me?”

“Sounds like it, yeah,” Changbin nodded once, bringing his free arm up to rub the back of his neck, “third floor, room 325.”

“Holy shit. I'm in 324. I wondered who was playing music a few weeks ago when I was moving my stuff in.”

Changbin laughed nervously as the realization that Chan lived so close to him, not only in the same apartment complex, but right next door to him, slapped him in the face. “Fate's a real bastard, innit?”

“What?”

As much as Changbin wanted to say something, a look of discomfort quickly washed over his face. “Oh shit,” came out instead of the quip he was planning on, and he quickly, awkwardly dashed to the curb of the sidewalk, violently emptying the contents of his stomach all over the pavement instead.

A drunken laugh came up from behind him as Chan cackled maniacally. “I knew you were a lightweight.”

The next morning, Changbin woke up and even the most ambient of sounds were painfully louder, every light was uncomfortably brighter. He let out a weak whimper, and curled into himself as the world spun around him. “Goddammit,” he grumbled. “Fuck Jisung and fuck last night. I'm never drinking again.”

As if fate was teasing him, taunting him with how unfair it truly was, there was a knock against the door, the faint rapping pulling him out of his daze. He sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back, coming to terms with the fact that he was going to have to get up in a moment. “Be there in a sec,” he attempted to shout in the most decent, cognizant way possible.

It took Changbin a few moments to reorient himself as the walls spun around him. He stumbled his way through his bedroom, out to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole. Changbin fumbled with his deadbolt for a moment, scolding himself as he realized he forgot to do the chain-link before he passed out at some point earlier that morning. He pulled the door open, instantly regretting leaving his bed as he saw the man at his door.

“Chan?” He rubbed his eyes and grumbled. “How'd you find out where I live?”

“You told me last night, dude.” The taller man offered a plastic bag around his finger, almost as if it were some sort of physical apology. “Figured you could use some of this, especially since you don't remember all of last night, do you?”

Changbin stepped back, opening his door wide. There was no way he had the energy to yell at Chan, not when the man had brought him food as a peace offering. “I'm still upset with you, you know.”

“You told me last night,” Chan shook his head, tutting in feigned irritation as he took a couple of steps into Changbin’s apartment. “Several times, actually.”

The two of them sat on the couch in awkward silence as they ate their lukewarm, greasy diner takeout. Changbin curled up into a ball, clutching his sports drink to his chest as he rolled his face into the couch cushion. “God, I feel like shit,” he whined. “How are you so okay after all of that? You ended up drinking more than me.”

Chan chuckled. “I was part of a frat, dude,” he took a sip of water from his glass, then set it back down on the table. “Beer was an acceptable substitute for water in Sig Ep. Practically its own food group. Ah,” he stuck a finger in the air and his face turned stoic, “unofficially, of course.”

In all honesty, Changbin never realized that Chan had become such a different person after he went to university. He was still caring and kind, but to picture him as a typical frat boy was jarring. “You still got honours and valedictorian after all that shit?”

“Yep,” the older man clasped his hands together, bringing them behind his head as he leaned back into the couch. “Don't know how I did it, though. Talent probably got me far enough.”

“You were always really good at playing the viola, dude.” The compliment was sincere, Changbin rolling his eyes up to catch the profile of his best friend, staring longer than he should’ve.

Chan turned slightly, sucking in some air through his teeth as he looked at Changbin. “Never as good as you.” His voice was low, like there was something hidden deep under his words.

The two of them were quiet again. Changbin couldn’t help but ruminate on Chan’s words, memories of their constant rivalries and the night of their drunken kiss violently replaying over and over in his head. Chan always wanted to beat Changbin out on one thing, and Changbin was afraid it would cause Chan to look down on him as somehow lesser than.

Oh.

A sour, queasy feeling rolled up the back of Changbin’s neck as he realized he had probably treated Chan poorly in everything they competed for when he beat him out. How could he have treated his childhood friend so terribly for something so petty and trivial? Changbin had no other friends, not since he and Wooyoung split up, and the loneliness he felt bubbled up in his chest, commingling with how horrible he felt for the way he had treated Chan after all this time.

He should have apologized, too.

“Hey, Bin,” Chan leaned further into the back of the couch, drawing his arm out against the frame and he stared down at his sickly junior. “If I had reached out to you and apologized, do you think you would’ve forgiven me? We said some horrible shit to each other and, honestly, I never thought we’d see each other again. I’m glad we got to see each other after all this time, but I can’t help but think we’d never talk to each other otherwise.”

Changbin couldn’t help but look away, staring off into the tiny chip on his wall next to his calendar. He chewed on his teeth, unable to resist thinking about all of the stupid, petulant rage he felt over their trivial fights. He brought his thumbnail to his teeth and anxiously nibbled at it, honestly unsure if he would’ve forgiven Chan if they didn’t end up in Seattle together after all this time. “I dunno,” he muttered, words coming out with a slight lisp against his nail. “I think you’re probably right. I mean, we hadn’t talked in four years, why start now? What’s the point of resurfacing old wounds just to tear into them?”

A heavy sigh came from Chan as he looked up towards the ceiling. “I guess you’re right. I figured you had everything going perfectly for you. You graduated with a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, were happily engaged, and had just accepted some prestigious job somewhere. You were succeeding and surpassing me in so many ways yet again, and I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—” Chan quickly cut himself off.

Changbin lifted one of his eyebrows at the sudden silence, turning to look at Chan in confusion. “The fact that you what?”

The blonde shook his head, quickly standing up and brushing his shirt off. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Wait,” Changbin reached out to grab Chan’s arm without thinking, loosely grasping at his thin wrist. “Chan, I know it’s been years, but you can tell me anything.”

“No,” Chan shook his head, refusing to look at Changbin. “I promise, it’s not that important right now.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin opening his mouth to protest, Chan spoke up again. “Look, eat the rest of your food and drink a lot of fluids. We can talk about this all later, I just,” Chan offered a quick smile over his shoulder before he tugged his wrist free of Changbin’s grasp and made his way towards the door, “I can’t talk about it right now. Sorry, man.”

Changbin cursed himself for drinking so much the night prior, his hangover preventing him from chasing after Chan. As much as he wanted to know what Chan was about to say, he figured he would just drop it for now, then press for more information later.

Chan’s ‘talk about all of this later’ turned into a lot longer than Changbin expected.

It should have been days, weeks at the most. However, the end of summer resigned itself to Seattle’s torrential autumn rains, the symphony’s first performance of the season came and went, they all worked through their planned Thanksgiving break to finish recording a score for a film with an unbelievably large budget. All of that came and went, and there was still no conversation broader than casual discussion between the two of them.

Every time they passed each other, Changbin’s eyes lingered on the blonde. What was Chan thinking? What was he going to say that caused the energy between them to shift so drastically?

There were polite conversations in passing between Chan and Changbin off and on. Occasionally, they would walk to the practice hall together, but it was by sheer accident, only because they had left their apartments at the same time. Every interaction between them seemed accidental, too pleasantly sterile for what had to have been harbouring beneath the surface.

Autumn bled into winter. Rain turned to sleet, which morphed into snow a few times during January and February. February blended into March. March blossomed into April. More performances, more anxiety, more productions, more nervousness, more expectations, more, more, more. More from the symphony, and less, less, less from Chan.

The sleepless nights brought on by extensive late-night practices were tolerable; tired mornings after these were easily remedied with a few cups of coffee. Conversely, the few times Changbin had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, he found himself tossing and turning, restlessly thinking about Chan, unable to sleep. His heart pounded with nervousness, Changbin swearing he could hear his heartbeat echoing against the beige drywall of his bedroom. He reached his fingertips up and brushed them against the wall behind him, where he assumed Chan was laying on the opposite side, peacefully slumbering away.

So close. So far away. Chan was always right there, but so far out of reach.

I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—

What exactly was Chan going to say on that day? Months had passed, but Changbin could still hear every syllable that came from Chan’s lips, the way that his tongue punctuated each hard consonant with a staccato against his teeth, haunting his dreams. He could picture the moment that Chan’s expression changed, shifted from ease to uncertainty, how his eyelashes twitched when his eyes went wide with fear.

Late one sleepless April night, Changbin had found himself staring upwards yet again, lost in the grooves and valleys of stucco against his ceiling. His nervousness of the upcoming principal seat exam weighed him down, forcing him to sink further and further into his mattress, heavy with doubt. Earlier that day, Chan stepped back, saying he wasn’t interested in fighting for the position, which Changbin read as neither truth nor fiction.

“I just want you to have the best chance possible,” Chan had told him with a seemingly fake smile. “You’re so incredibly talented, Bin. You’ve got the leadership skills, and I support you all the way.”

No. Something about that wasn’t right.

Changbin frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as he bit down on his lips. He tried to recall exactly what the expression was on Chan’s face while he said those words with a layer of insincerity. The insincerity was juxtaposed with honesty and pain, so many conflicting and contrasting things said without words.

Then, it hit him.

You’re so incredibly talented. It sounded so familiar, the layered pain and genuine jealousy.

Never as good as you.

It had been months since Chan told him that, when they were sitting on the couch nursing their hangovers at the beginning of the season. Months had passed, but the words were suddenly so crisp and clear, as if Changbin was right in that moment again.

It wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy.

In a near panic, Changbin reached out for his phone on his nightstand, bringing it up to his face. The bright light burned his retinas, but it didn’t matter. He started scrolling through Chan’s social media page, down countless months and years, endless photos that started with him in various spots in Seattle, then to his graduation, followed by various frat gatherings and university happenings.

It was like Changbin was travelling backwards in time, seeing several familiar names and faces pop up, partially reliving the moments he had spent over the years angrily scrolling through his timeline on the nights he where Wooyoung was sleeping soundly next to him. Names that caused Changbin’s stomach to tense with varying degrees of jealousy started popping up with each season he travelled through.

Senior year: Son Chaeyoung, five months.

Junior year: Minatozaki Sana, seven months.

Sophomore year: Im Naeyon, three months. Hirai Momo, two months.

Freshman year: Park Jihyo, two months. Yoo Jeongyeon, two months.

Changbin recalled all of the people — all of them women — that Chan had dated, how none of them really seemed like they were serious relationships, that they were maybe friends with benefits at most. The photos Chan had taken with them were all stiff and felt rushed, like he was putting on a show that he was happy with them, when he clearly wasn’t genuinely happy.

It wasn’t jealousy. Of course it wasn’t jealousy.

Chan was hiding something, and Changbin’s heart sunk into his stomach as he found himself staring at the ceiling yet again. All he could find himself thinking about now was a single word ruminating, burning into his head.

Why?

Changbin made sure to leave well in advance prior to the start of the day. He didn’t want to risk running into Chan, not when the principal seat exam was today. He had spent too much time ruminating and worrying over Chan and the what-ifs the night prior, his lack of sleep apparent as his limbs ached with fatigue.

The walk to the practice hall was uneventful; drizzle had languidly fallen from the sky, embedding itself into Changbin’s jacket, temporarily turning the crimson fabric just a few shades darker. After several months, Changbin had gotten used to the nonstop Seattle rain, varying from drizzle to torrential downpours with occasional reprieves of sunshine peppered in throughout the year.

In a way, it was oddly calming. The rain kept people from lingering in the streets too long to chatter, but there was also a stubborn resiliency as people just accepted the downpours. Umbrellas and ponchos were only seen with tourists, people that seemed afraid that the slightest bit of drizzle would cause them to melt. There was an influx of tourists in March, when the cheap cruises up along the coast to Alaska started. With the influx of tourists, there were more and more performances that were crammed into Changbin’s schedule.

Honestly, the transition from March to April seemed so minute, like the drizzle turning to heavy droplets of rain, the rainstorm he constantly found himself in. It was a beautiful time of year, and Changbin hadn’t ever truly appreciated the fact that there were so many varying shades of grey along the spectrum of white to black.

The transition from August to April seemed to be so subtle, too. Within a few months, the barista at the cafe got better with his name, eventually able to speak it with confidence at about February. Changbin assumed she was flirting with him a few times when she passed his cup to him with various doodles and scribbles on them, but he shrugged it off.

Today’s cup holding his shot in the dark had a heart next nestled up to his name. Perhaps it would bring good luck for the principal seat exam.

Practice was uneventful, since the entire group was only together for the first half of the day. As the group disbanded into its respective sections for individualized practice, nerves bubbled up in Changbin’s veins as he steeled himself in preparation for the principal seat exam. Seungmin had wished him the most polite “good luck, man,” he could muster, even though they were both competing against each other.

Changbin had been in the middle of practicing his solo piece when a familiar voice pulled him from his concentration.

“Fantasia Cromatica?” The voice was layered with nervousness and anticipation.

The brunette sighed, trying to bite back his irritation at the loss of his focus. “Yeah,” he turned his head over his shoulder, eyeing the man that approached him. “Surprised you recognized it, Chan.”

Chan’s hand twitched as he lifted it for a brief second, like he was about to reach out to Changbin. “I’ve eyed that piece several times,” he brought his hand up to the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling as he stood a respectable distance away from the brunette, “it’s intimidating, but it’s such a well-known viola solo. I guess I’m not surprised you picked something without accompaniment with how independent you are.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but Chan’s words struck a sour chord within Changbin. The younger man shook his head once, eyeing the floor before he turned to look at the blonde. “I’m trying to practice,” his voice came off harsher than he had meant it to. Chan’s expression fell from nervously optimistic to slightly hurt, and Changbin rolled his eyes with a huff as he tried to pedal backwards. “Look,” he started, making awkward eye contact with Chan for a brief moment, “after I’m done with all of this, can we talk? I’ve got some stuff on my mind I wanna discuss with you.”

Chan looked excited for a moment as he nodded rapidly. “Sure,” he bit back a smile, “yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Changbin half-smiled as he turned back to his sheet music.

“Good luck, Changbin,” Chan brought his hand up to the brunette’s shoulder, offering a quick, warm squeeze that didn’t last nearly long enough. The slight touch caused Changbin’s breath to hitch in his throat, all of the air around him turning cool as Chan left.

Somehow, the younger man felt revitalized with the well wishes of his friend still lingering on his shoulder and dancing in his ears.

“So,” Minho greeted Changbin with a warm smile as the brunette entered the room. “You’ve decided to audition for the principal viola seat. After the initial chair placements, I didn’t think you would try, in all honesty.” The auburn-haired man smiled, tipping his wire-rimmed frames down his nose slightly, red pen in his hand.

Shit. Nerves lit up all over Changbin as he started to doubt himself, like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I’m glad you did.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin’s nervousness, Minho offered kind words in his usual soft, gentle voice. “Listen, I should be clear about something. I specifically sought out both you and Chan, as well as a few others, for this year’s contract placements. I don’t think you recognized me during the interview process, and I’m surprised you didn’t notice after the season started.”

“What?” The brunette cocked his head to the side, eyelids squinting upward in confusion.

Minho set the clipboard down on his desk, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table. He interlaced his fingers together and rested his chin on the backs of his hands. “I used to live on the east coast. I was in New Jersey for a while until I moved to Seattle a couple of years ago for this job. You and Chan performed Lament at the state competition in New York a few years ago. I believe you were both juniors back then, correct?”

Changbin’s throat went dry as he recognized Minho from so long ago, feeling somewhat dumb for not realizing it sooner. All those years ago, he was sitting in between two other judges, wearing the same wire-rimmed glasses as he wore today. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “That’s right.”

A smile crept up Minho’s face. “You both earned a perfect score, which was a rarity in and of itself, but what really captured me was how well both of you worked, the way you both blended together so naturally, beaming with raw, unadulterated talent. Such balance can’t be taught, only naturally weaved together by fate.”

Uneasiness came over Changbin in waves, like he was about to be judged far more critically than he anticipated.

“Anyway,” Minho brought his hands to his desk and sat back a bit. “The details of it all aren’t important. Just know that I’m happy that you’re both here. I’ll admit, however, that I was disappointed when Chan told me that he wasn’t interested in auditioning for the principal seat.”

A jolt surged up against the length of Changbin’s spine. “What?” He pressed, taken aback, unsure if what he just heard was accurate. “Chan told you he wasn’t interested?”

Minho nodded once. “He told me that, if given the opportunity, you deserved it more than he did, that he believed you were more talented and had the right leadership skills for the position.”

Changbin knitted his brows together. Nervousness had been replaced with a rush of anger. He initially found it odd that Chan wasn’t going to audition for the seat placement, sure, but the fact that he deliberately told Minho that Changbin was more talented and deserved it? That they didn’t even get to have a fair chance of competition between the two of them?

He felt strangely hurt, like Chan had somehow betrayed him. All for what, a seat placement? Something so trivial, after all these years?

His eyes looked down at his viola, eyeing that familiar chip one more time. The familiar word that echoed against Changbin’s head the night prior was so loud yet again.

Why?

Chan was pacing in the hallway when Changbin emerged from Minho’s office. “Hey!” He perked up with a smile on his face. “How’d it go, dude?”

Changbin shook his head, unable to look at Chan. A scowl curled up his lips as he bared his teeth, briskly walking to where his viola’s case rested. Practice was supposed to be for another hour, but he couldn’t bear another minute of being under the same roof as Chan, in the same claustrophobic space as him, not when he was seething with anger.

“Changbin?” Chan’s voice was closer, but quieter than before. “Was it that bad?”

The brunette’s fingers trembled as he shakily rested his viola in its case, eyeing the chip one last time before he slammed his case shut. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the instrument lockers, deciding to leave his viola in the practice hall overnight. Chan trailed behind him, his voice growing more and more concerned as Changbin paced away.

“Dude,” Chan pressed, reaching out to grab Changbin’s wrist as he slammed his locker door shut. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“Why?” Changbin wanted to say so much more, but the single syllable was all he could muster.

Chan winced, shaking his head in confusion. “What are you talking—”

“Why didn’t you audition for the principal seat?” His voice was terse, yet was still draped in a layer of fragility. “No, why did you tell Minho you didn’t deserve it? We’re supposed to be rivals, right? Push each other and make ourselves better, like when we were kids. What the fuck happened?”

“Changbin,” the blonde’s composure dropped with his shoulders, a look of pity washing over his face. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I just… I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

“Tch, typical. You know, Chan,” the younger man scoffed, rolling his eyes before he stared down the blonde, “I don’t understand you. I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected, not by anyone, not by you. I deserved a fair shot at the principal seat placement, I deserved to compete against you, and you just insult me like I had no chance if you competed.”

Chan curled into himself slightly, hurt by Changbin’s words. “I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Changbin shook his head and spun on his heel, padding off towards the exit in anger.

After a moment, Chan heard the downpour come through the door as Changbin ran off. He rushed to his locker, grabbing his jacket and his umbrella. “Changbin, wait!”

Seattle rain was never forgiving, especially during spring. The precipitation clattered against the ground at near-torrential speeds, the heavy noise only amplified as it reverberated against the concrete and the walls of nearby buildings.

“Changbin, please,” Chan shouted as the younger man stormed out of the practice hall and into the downpour that enveloped Capitol Hill in a dark haze. He took a few long strides as he chased after the seething brunette.

Changbin spun on his heel, shouting at the top of his lungs as he stared down Chan with wild eyes, his voice barely carrying along the heavy pattering of rain against concrete. “I don’t understand why you keep hiding, Chan! Why did you turn me down all those years ago?”

Chan shook his head, avoiding eye contact as he motioned for Changbin to come back. “Come here, Changbin, get under my umbrella before you get sick.”

“No!” Changbin shrieked in anger, tears streaming down his face as all of the emotions he had bottled up over the years suddenly erupted all at once. “Do you not understand how much I’ve loved you all these years? Ever since we were kids?”

“Bin, please, I—” The blonde’s shoulders sunk down as he recoiled into himself, eyes darting around as he was frozen in place.

“Everything! Everything I did was because of you, Chan!” The words burned as they came up from Changbin’s chest, the black lily of nervousness entangling its petals in between the empty spaces of his ribcage. “I put myself through hell to distract me from you, to get all of these thoughts out of my head, to stop fucking thinking about you for once!”

Chan was quiet, lips parted as he stared at Changbin in disbelief, tears unknowingly spilling from his eyelids.

The brunette refused to relent, shouting over the Seattle rain. “You were the only person that believed in me. You pushed us to do that duet, even though I thought it was stupid. You’re the reason we got the perfect score. You keep saying that I’m so much more talented than you, that you’d never be as good at me, but you’ve always been the one that’s naturally better at all of this.”

A beat passed between them before Changbin let out an anguished, angry shout. He was so tired of all of the pain and anguish he had felt over the years, and letting it all finally explode after so long, like a rubber band wound up too tightly, felt unnaturally liberating. Regardless of how Chan felt about Changbin after all of these years, he could finally let go of his agony, which was equal parts terrifying and relieving.

“Why? Why the fuck did you never apologize to your best friend, Chan? I have been in absolute fucking misery since you and I kissed so long ago and I don’t think you understand how much I wanted you to be there. How you kept creeping into my thoughts, even after all of these years, all I could think about was you.”

The blonde advanced, his face pulled into a downward scowl as his footsteps were heavy against the slick concrete. “It’s because I didn’t want to admit something,” Chan spoke in as low of a voice as he could while he pulled Changbin to his chest. “When you kissed me all those years ago, I was terrified about all of the what-ifs that started rushing around in my head. Like, what if I ruin my friendship? What if you’re not actually into me? What happens when I’m not good enough for you? What if I was actually straight and I was going to cause you nothing but pain after all this time?”

“Chan, stop.” Changbin shook his head, bringing his damp hands to Chan’s clammy face, rubbing away the tears that started spilled over, down his chilled cheeks. “You’re always good enough for me. You’re the only one that’s good enough for me; the only one I ever wanted.”

“What?”

“Listen,” the brunette sighed heavily, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved Wooyoung, but, the thing is…”

Chan watched the expressions on Changbin’s face cross a spectrum from confusion, to anguish, to regret.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, as horrible as it sounds. Sure, we were drunk when we had that one kiss, but it was the best kiss of my life. Hell,” he hiccuped, trying to swallow back tears, “I thought I lost my chance with you forever after high school. So, I settled. Wooyoung was the only other friend I had, and he was interested in me. I took a shot with him and, yeah, we were fine, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. I was ready to settle for a life of mediocrity until he decided he didn’t want to come to Seattle with me. I was finally free of both of you when I got here. I could leave you both behind.”

Changbin brought his forehead down to Chan’s wet shoulder, the fabric squishing against his skin as he rolled around and sighed. “It’s horrible,” he dropped his hands and clutched at the lapels of the blonde’s jacket, pulling himself closer into the older man’s embrace. “I was so glad to be free of both Wooyoung and the ghost of you. So, when I saw you that day at the cafe, it was like all hell had broken loose; everything came rushing back and I was overwhelmed by the weight of my past. I was forced to reconcile with the one person I hurt the most, the one who hurt me the most, and the one I never thought I would be able to forgive.”

A soft chuckle echoed around Chan’s chest as he rested his cheekbone against Changbin’s sopping wet brown hair. “We can’t escape each other.”

“I guess not,” Changbin quietly relented, releasing Chan’s jacket from his grasp, his arms languidly falling to his side in exhaustion. He was tired of being angry for so long, for harbouring such a deep-seated resentment against his best friend, for being mad at himself for never forgiving Chan after all this time over something so minor. So fucking tired. “I’m sorry, Chan. For all of this shit.”

The tapping of Seattle rain against Chan’s umbrella seemed so muted as the men stood up against each other, lost in their little bubble as the world disappeared around them. Nothing else mattered but being warmed by each other. Chan dropped his hand from Changbin’s back for a moment, then brought his fingers up to the underside of Changbin’s chin.

“Changbin,” his voice was timid as he tilted the younger man’s chin upward, both of them making awkward eye contact for a moment. A few drops of rain fell from Changbin’s hair, mingling against the tears that were rolling down his face, the droplets joining to become something greater, a small river down the valley of his cheek. “Even if you don’t forgive me after all this time, I forgive you. We were both idiots back then. What matters is that we’re here now. We can leave everything behind and move forward — together.”

“Together.” Changbin repeated, his voice cracking in between the syllables. He hated feeling so weak, but he couldn’t help it. All of the emotions from the past few years coming up, burning in his chest as the realization that what he yearned for all this time settled. After all this time, he was finally where he felt comfortable, secure, happy, with no strings attached.

Chan.

His arms were warm, a shelter to protect him from the weakness he was feeling. The happiness in his eyes and the bright smile on his face was Changbin’s sunshine during the overcast, dreary Seattle days.

Chan was home. His home.

The pattering of rain against Chan’s umbrella was suddenly so quiet, a rush of warmth blossomed up from Changbin’s cheeks to the tips of his ears. The black lily of anxiety that rested in between the spaces of his ribcage blossomed from black, to crimson, to a vibrant pink. All of his feelings for Chan became crystal clear, and he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

There was nothing left to lose.

“I love you. Still, after all of this time. I love you so much, Chan.” The words left his lips before he crashed them against Chan’s, much less awkwardly than their kiss so many years ago. His hands reached up to Chan’s blonde locks with a sudden renewed, yearning energy, grasping at the strands and tugging at them as if he would sink into the ground if he let go.

Rain came pouring down all around them as Chan dropped his umbrella, bringing one of his hands down to the small of Changbin’s back, the other hand softly cupping the younger man’s face. “I love you too, Changbin,” he whispered breathlessly as he pulled back for just a split second. Chan brought the brunette closer into his grasp, droplets of rain falling between them, rolling down their faces and in between their lips.

Like Connecticut, Changbin was vivacissimo, as wild as the hustle and bustle of the east coast. Like Seattle, Chan was andante, languid and calming.

Chan was his home, where Changbin belonged all along.

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 10) | The Boyz Imagine

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Main characters: Kevin, Juyeon, Hyunjae and OC (Mae)

Sides: the rest of The Boyz

Genre: fluff, slice of life, BROMANCE BRUH

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10

-----------

"Excuse me."

"Yes," Juyeon whips his head up to see a pregnant woman waddling over to the counter with an expression that looks murderous. Holding her belly against herself with a grocery bag slung over her shoulder, she slams her entire body onto the front counter, which causes him to jump in surprise. 

"How are you, ma'am? How can I help you today?" Juyeon flashes a wan smile, used to dealing with unnerved clients. There's usually always a reason behind their madness.

"I have been waiting for at least an hour!" The woman bellows, practically red in the face, "I'm due in two weeks, and there are so many other pregnant women waiting behind me. How come it's taking so long?"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry we--"

"Do you know how hard it is for us, pregnant women, to sit here in this stuffed waiting room while babies are kicking?!" She interrupts with another yell as Juyeon's hands come up in defense, "I want to see Dr. Bae right now! Right now, you hear me? I'm tired! I want to go home!" 

Panic rises at the back of Juyeon's throat, "I--I am so sorry about this ma'am. But due to the number of patients today, the office is running a little slower than usual. I'm really sorry--"

"I don't want to hear your stupid reasons. I want my appointment!" She bellows, "Now!"

Fear coils through his stomach, a sick feeling tying into knots as his throat dries up with the countless excuses dying on the tip of his tongue. 

Shit, his heart races. How is he supposed to deal with that? 

He'd give anything to be shadowing a doctor right now. 

The door to the doctor's office suddenly slides open, revealing a gentle-eyed Jacob who's gaze quickly flits between them in understanding. The woman doesn't even wait a second, quickly twisting her body and waddling towards him. 

"Dr. Bae, I was just telling your stupid staff here that you need to speed up your process! Do you know how painful it is to be sitting around with that?" She motions towards her belly, legs wide apart and fists clenched at her sides as though she's preparing for battle. 

But Jacob's expression stays unfazed, "I apologize, ma'am. Unfortunately the speed of the diagnosis does not rely solely on me, but my patient."

"Yes, but--"

"Some have--" Jacob pauses, presses his lips together as sympathy flashes through his face, "some have difficult obstacles they've had to face in regards to their pregnancy. Not everyone is as lucky that their baby is growing up to be healthy."

The woman blinks, opening her mouth, then closing it upon realizing that she has been shocked into silence. 

"I understand your frustrations, I really do," Jacob's voice is gentle, a soothing lullaby that instantly makes Juyeon feel like the world is a better place, "but we all have to cooperate a little, work together to make this work. Don't you think?" 

For a moment, there's a complete silence so palpable that Juyeon can hear the ringing in his ears. He can feel the eyes of a multitude of patients drilling into the back of his skull and goosebumps suddenly explode along his arm at the sensation. 

"Alright," the woman finally lets out a grumble, "fine. Whatever."

And she turns around, wobbly on her feet, before plopping back down at her seat looking slightly disconcerted by the effect of Jacob's words. 

Juyeon sends the said doctor a look of utter gratefulness, which Jacob answers with a wink of his own before retreating back into his office. 

Thank god. 

---------

It's been a long day running back and forth between the maternity department and the pediatric ward, but it is only when the last patient bids their goodbyes that Juyeon allows his neutral mask to fall.

"I'm sorry doctor," he bows his head to the ground, not daring to make any kind of eye contact due to the embarrassment coiling through him, "It was my fault. I couldn't calm her down in time."

"No no," Jacob's lips curl up into a smile, face softening with understanding, "it happens all the time. Impatient patients are the norm around here. Mothers-to-be, especially."

"Still, I'm sorry."

"Did that swear you off the Maternity Ward then?" Jacob's smile widens into a teasing grin.

"Maybe."

"Well, if it's of any comfort, it's no better in the other wards."

"What do you mean?" Juyeon frowns. 

"Some of them are always looking for donors, others always doing extra shifts. The pediatric ward is the only one that's doing okay, as of late. Cancer department is just a hole of sadness."

"That's...not very encouraging."

"That's the reality of it," Jacob shrugs, "did you give it any thought? What you wanted to specialize?" 

"I don't know. Cancer, maybe. I'm not good with kids and the Cardiac Department looks like hell. Also, Organs make me squirm."

Jacob laughs at that, the sound bouncing through the room like sunlight, "that's exactly the same reason why I didn't want to specialize in surgery."

"That makes the two of us."

After packing up their belongings and clocking out for the day, Jacob offers to buy Juyeon dinner as a thank-you for helping him throughout the day and though the latter tries his best to refuse, the doctor insists that it's just something he does with all of his underlings, and that not treating Juyeon would just not be right. 

So Juyeon has no other choice but to follow as they walk to the parking lot. They unexpectedly bump into Hyunjae and Changmin in the lobby, causing Jacob to invite them both to join. 

"Why Jacob, I think that's the first time you're buying me dinner," Hyunjae can't help but comment as they settle at one of the tables of Mama's chicken, a small restaurant just down the street from their hospital. Juyeon smacks his thigh in protest, aiming to be subtle while the former stifles his groan of pain. 

"What?" Hyunjae hisses venomously.

"You don't say those kinds of things," Juyeon hisses back.

"You only care because you want him to give you a good review."

"Piss off, Hyunjae." 

The dinner goes surprisingly well considering that Juyeon isn't really familiar with Jacob. Having Hyunjae helps ease the tension between the interns and the doctors, lightening the atmosphere and loosening up his tongue. They share stories about patients, heart-wrenching stories about the ones they lost, and the ones that they managed to save. The more they spoke, the more Juyeon felt like this was the right path he'd chosen, after all this internal dilemma that had cost him a few years. 

"So why did you want to study medicine?" Asks Hyunjae to Changmin, who is already slightly flushed from his second beer. 

"I--uh--I just wanted to make the world a better place," Changmin stammers, ears flushing red, "I don't think I've considered anything else."

"See, this is the problem with interns," Hyunjae shakes a hand at him, "you guys think that being a doctor is honourable. It fucking sucks, okay? Like, it's really shitty. The shittiest of everything shitty in this world."

"Not all that shitty," Jacob intercepts.

Hyunjae scowls at him, "for you, maybe. You work in the Maternity Ward. What's the worst? That a pregnant woman comes screaming at you?" 

At that comment, Juyeon can't help but glance at Jacob, eyes meeting for a quick second in understanding. 

“I think I got used to that,” Jacob answers with a small smile, “Pregnant women don’t scare me.” 

“You’re brave, Dr. Bae,” Hyunjae sniffs, “there’s no way I’d be able to make it.”

“Do you regret choosing to be a surgeon?” Changmin pipes up.

“Nah,” Hyunjae flashes him a grin then, leaning back against his seat and poking Juyeon’s neck as he does so, “couldn’t find myself a better match. Surgery is all I live for. It’s like me against death, and most of the time, I always win.” 

“And the times you don’t?” 

“You win some, you lose some. That’s the reality of it.”

When Jacob and Changmin bid their goodbyes, Juyeon accompanies Hyunjae back to the hospital -- the latter has a night shift. It is his second one in a row -- while throwing his friend a couple of worried glances out of the corner of his eye. 

He knows more than anyone how much Hyunjae gives to the people. No matter how much bravado he puts on about doctors and how medicine really is like a beast you can’t tame, there’s definitely always a sparkle in the said doctor’s eyes whenever he talks about it. Juyeon admires that, and he admires Hyunjae (not that he’ll ever tell him though), but his stomach can’t help but churn with worry when he notices the darkening blue aprons underneath his friend’s eyes, or the tiredness lining them, red-rimmed and mouth pulled down in a way that only suggests he lacks sleep and energy. 

“Hey,” Juyeon speaks up when they reach the hospital doors. Hyunjae looks back at him as he says, “try getting some sleep. You look like crap.” 

“Thanks Juyeon. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I’m serious, Hyunjae. Continue doing that and you’ll pass out in mid-surgery.” 

“Yeah yeah,” the older man sticks out his tongue in retaliation, “I hear you, mother. You heading home now?” 

“Yup. I’m done for the day. I got tomorrow off too.” 

“Lucky bastard.”

-----

Tagging: @juyeonzz @thesingingfae1905 @gratefulmaria @nochuu17​

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Also, for all those who have sent me requests, don’t worry I’m working on them! they shall be up soon! <3

I’M SO SORRY IT’S SO SHORT FML BUT LIFE IS GETTING IN THE WAY AND MAE IS TRYING TO ADULT AND GO TO JOB INTERVIEWS SO YEAH IM SORRY FHSDLSDLKJDBUT I HOPE YOU LIKE ALL THIS BROMANCE. 

NEXT EP WILL BE FULL OF MAE AND KEV SFKSDHGKDSJGDSLGLDKN <3 

[mrs-takami-keigo]

King of the Clouds

Hello all my fellow Hawks lovers! I decided to write a Hawks fanfic and I’m a little nervous about it because I haven’t written in about 6 years. So without further ado I give you King of the Clouds!

Description: She's a force to be reckoned with. She became the number three hero for a reason in the states, but why on earth is this lazy red winged boy in the number two spot. She's tired of him thinking he's the King of the clouds.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

———————————————————————

Chapter one:

It was a quiet day for the No•2 hero. He’s only had a purse snatcher, a petty corner store robber and an old lady who had trouble picking her cart full of groceries up the stairs. The blonde male decided to perch himself on top one of the tallest buildings so he could keep and eye out one the city. ‘ I bet anything I look like some kind of weirdo sitting like this’. He sighed as he sat on the edge of the building instead to not look like some kind of Batman impersonator. Reaching into his pocket he took out his phone to see the time “It’s only 2:45 and I still have the rest of the day to do nothing.” Hawks sighed and he opened up the news app on his phone. Scrolling down the list of articles he saw that almost all of his colleagues were busy catching actual villains. Not that he should be complaining he always wanted to not be so busy but it was days like this where he wanted a little excitement. An article that was going on live caught his interest, he turned his phone sideways so he can watch the video on his whole screen ‘We’re here at shinjuku station where a villain has appeared! Hero’s are on the scene doing their best-‘

The reporter was interrupted by a huge explosion. The camera was shaky but it turned towards the sound and he saw this guy blast an entire building with just one hit, as soon as the villains hand made contact with the building you can see small ripples appear. “So it’s a super sonic quirk huh interesting.” Hawks mumbled to himself watching the rest of the live feed. ‘ He just took out a whole building with one strike! And it looks like some of the hero’s have been affected by his super sonic wave!!’

‘The revolution has begun meta humans will be back on top with no rules! Catch me if you can hero’s!’ and with that the villain shot into the sky causing more destruction to the surrounding area. The camera followed him and Hawks realized he wasn’t too far from that area and the direction that villain was going and his speed he knew he was gonna be pretty busy in a few minutes.

“Well looks like break time is over.” Putting his phone away the young man stood up stretching his arms and his red wings did the same shaking after being fully stretched. Squinting his eyes he saw a small speck coming in his direction. Smirking he crouched down ready to wait till the creep got closer to him before he took off in full force.

‘5,4,3,2,-‘ He was counting down ready for the take down when out of nowhere he felt a gust of hot wind which was odd considering it was still early spring and saw a flash. Pushing himself off the building he followed that bright light. Hawks had a hard time keeping up with it ‘who the hell is this?!’ He frowned as he tried to speed up. Everything happened so fast, the bright light caught up with the villain in mid air, and next thing he knew the villain was thrown to the ground causing what Hawks considered a small earthquake. He watched as the light hovered down, noticing that is was more like a ball of fire and not just a light. ‘Endeavor?’ He knew it couldn’t be cause Endeavor wasn’t faster than him. Flying closer Hawks was able to finally see a figure of a women, her hair blowing upward as she slowly went down towards the ground. Her right arm extended out as if to stay stop.

“It’s useless. I’m sure you feel that pressure that’s holding you down on you whole body, that’s me and your not going anywhere.” Her voice was very stern and cold as if she was ready to kill. “Stupid hero! The w-“ the villain stopped mid-sentence he was chocking. Hawks looked back at the women and saw her other hand looked like it was gripping something.’Was she choking him?’

“Yeah yeah we all heard it before it’s time for a nap big guy.” She held her hand position like that for another minute before he passed out. It wasn’t until then he realized she had flaming wings letting her float down to the ground next to the perpetrator, cops soon swarmed the unconscious male and handcuffing him before hauling him up and carrying him away.

Landing not that far away from the women Hawks finally was able to see her face fully and god was he surprised. She was stunning absolutely stunning.

“Miss! Miss! What is your name where did you come from?!”

“ Are you a new hero from UA?!”

“Are you single?!” Hawks watched as she was bombarded with questions from reporters and fans alike. She chuckled at the last question covering her mouth a little to hide her smile but Hawks still saw it.

“My name is Phoenix and I’m a new hero here in japan.” She bowed her head and that sent the crowed into a fit. Not only was she powerful and beautiful she was also respectful. “Please lean on me, I’m here for you!” She said with so much passion in her voice that even the red winged man had to applaud her like the rest of the crowd.

Hawks stood in the background as she answered more and more questions, not once did she sound unsure or confused. ‘The rookie has some talent.’ Having watched her he guessed she was around his age or maybe younger and from what he heard she’s from the state’s. ‘Interesting.’

“ I hate doing this but I have to leave now have to go fill out paperwork, you know the deal. I’ll be around so if you ever need help big or small just shout my name and I’ll be there.” She backed away from the crowd her flaming wings coming out of her back before she took of to the skies. Realizing this is his chance Hawks followed her leave but not before hearing people asking how long had he been standing there.

She wasn’t flying as fast as she was before making it easy for him to catch up with her. Right when he got close enough to call out to her he opened his mouth.

“So were you even trying to really catch that guy or not?” He heard her speak, it was an annoyed kind of tone. He stopped, hovering in the air staring at her. ‘Who in the hell?’ He thought to himself but he knew his face was saying it as well. Having stopped herself she turned towards him flying a little closer so they were in talking distance. “I mean for real you saw him coming, why wait that long?” She had crossed her arms staring at him

“Well nice to meet you too Kid. And I had it handled, just waiting for my moment to pounce.” He smirked floating closer to her until he was close enough to get a whiff of her perfume, ‘hmm spicy but still sweet.’

“First off Hawks,” his eyes widened he never said his name and from what he got when she was talking to the reporters she just got here late last night, “ take at least to flaps back and second I’m not a kid, trust me.”

Laughing he did what she said and took two flaps of his wings back. “ How do you know my name? When I just found out about yours from you interview down there.” He mirrored her stance.

“It’s my job to know all my co-workers names, especially boys like you.” She started to circle him, moving her legs as if she was walking on the ground. “Hero name, Hawks. Age,23. Height, roughly five foot eight. Favorite food, chicken. Quirk, fierce wings. You have the ability to have control of your feathers so they can assist you in saving people or to become weapons if need be.Also you have the ability to hear distant sounds because of your feathers. But the best fact of all,” she stopped right in front of him and was close, closer then he was to her before,” You are dangerous in many different ways, You’re a wild card.” She never broke eye contact when she said the last part. Hawks had to admit he was intimidated, very intimidated which never happens.

He didn’t want her to know that he was intimidated he smirked at her, “Okay so you had access to a computer is that supposed to scare me, Phoenix?”

She put her arms on his shoulders bringing him closer to her leaning towards his ear. “Oh no my little dove I’m just trying to tell you I’m just as dangerous, Keigo.” His eyes widened in shock. She used his real name! ‘How did she know my real name?! Who the fuck was she?!’

Pushing away from her he looked at her with a serious face. “Who are you?!”

Her face turned serious as well staring him down she said in a voice that sent chills down his spine,”Next time you have to stop a villain don’t be lazy, just get the job done.” She turned and flew away just as fast as she came.

Hawks was tempted to follow her but first he had to pay a visit to the hero’s organization and ask them exactly how the hell she knew his name.

‘Dear lord if I have to answer anymore are you single questions I’m gonna scream.’ Phoenix ran her right hand through her burgundy curls while her left hand took her phone out of her belt. She saw messages from her parents and friends from back home but what caught her attention was the five missed calls from her uncle. Rolling her eyes she could already tell he was pissed that she took down some wannabe when he specifically told her to lay low till he introduced her. But she couldn’t help it, she saw it on the news when she was settling everything in her office back at the agency and her hero instincts kicked in. Sure she wasn’t positive where the fight was happening but that’s what her gps on the phone was for.

Deciding the best thing to do was to call the hot headed number one hero back. The phone never had a proper chance to ring before she heard his booming voice over the small phone,” Didn’t I tell you not to go do anything yet?!”

“Oh simmer down will you everything is fine. I’m okay and the guy is in jail.” She said while she walked down the street getting glances from people on the streets. Some were questioning and some were of people that must have seen her on tv already. “I’m on my way back to the agency is Shouto there?” Smiling as she said that cause she knows if she brings him up her uncle would lose focus on her and talk about his pride and joy.

“Yes he’s here! He thought you were gonna be here as well but nope you took off without saying a damn thing!” Wincing she didn’t know he’d be that mad at her.

“Can you put him on the phone please?”

“What for?!”

“Just do it flame head!” She yelled in the phone. Sometimes anger issues run in the family and if there was one person she could always get mad at it was her anger management poster child of an uncle.

“Hello?” She heard her cousins monotonous voice making her smile. She loved her cousins but Shouto was like a little brother to her.

“I’m heading back, want me to pick up some cold soba noodles for you?”

“You don’t have to.” He was always a sweet boy that was one of the reasons she always felt compelled to protect him.

“Don’t worry I got you. I’ll be there in about ten minutes okay. Oh and tell your father to chill.” She heard him chuckle before hanging up.

Looking up the closest soba place on her phone she found one not to far. Taking a breath and closing her eyes she jumped up and her wings sprouted from her back letting her take off into the sky. Flying was her favorite thing to do and the sky in japan was different than back home. Here it was more peaceful and clearer, she smiled when she saw a bird flying next to her.

‘Who are you?!’ his voice rang in her head. Hawks, he was gonna be a handful. Her face frowned when she remembered seeing him there just sitting knowing that the villain wasn’t too far from him. Her research told her that he could reach over 100 mph on a slow day so for him not to do a damn thing was sickening to her. If there is a person doing evil things you are supposed to stop it not just wait for your time to pounce as he likes to say. But she did have to admit he wasn’t that bad on the eyes so if they had to be in the same business at least she had something to look at. Shaking her head of anymore thoughts on that red winged bimbo she flew faster passing the bird the was taking a nice fly with her.

Phoenix POV

“Anybody order a cold soba to go?” I said while holding up the bags of food I got from the restaurant. My little cousin turned his head away from his father who looked like he was explaining something to him.

“It’s about time you showed up Phoenix.”

“God Endeavor lay off will you and just spend time eating with us before we go back to the house.” I said while pulling the food out of the bags. I gave Shouto his food smiling at him. He looked at me and smiled back, it was a small one but you knew that he had a hard time expressing himself. My heart hurt for him sometimes, I knew what my uncle put him and my other cousins through not to mention my poor aunt. I’ve learned of his monstrous ways when my family came to visit a little after he sent his wife away, I was about 18 when it happened so I was fully aware of the situation.My mother smacked him but me, well let’s just say it was a dark time.

“I saw the footage and the interview.” Me and Shouto looked up from our food when we heard his father speak, “ I may not have liked you going off on your own but you did an amazing job Quinn.”

“Thank you uncle. And next time I’ll listen to you.” We may have our differences and I may have my reservations about my uncle. I still respected him as a hero and I know he is trying to make his family proud of him despite of what he did in his past.

He nodded his head at me while stuffing a dumpling into his mouth. “Did you run into and other hero’s.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed the noodles that were in my mouth. “Hawks. Can you believe he didn’t react to the villain that was so close to him. He was just sitting there ‘waiting to pounce’ that’s what he said to me.”

“He may come off as lazy and aloof but take him seriously. He’s number 2 for a reason.His skills are almost the same levels as you child.” I gave him a questioning look. I’ve never heard him actually compliment someone other than his son. I leaned over the desk that was between us pinching his cheek.

“What are you doing!” He swatted my had away rubbing the bruised area.

“I’m just checking if your really my uncle Enji is all. You never just compliment someone.”

“All I’m saying is there is a reason for everything. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” When he said that I heard my cousin scuff and mutter some not so great things under his breath. “Knowing you, you were probably rude to him weren’t you?” Out of all the people to know you well your uncle had to be the one.

“He deserved it!” I knew I was pouting I couldn’t help it that man irked me to my core for some reason.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do seeing as your almost thirty but just give him a second chance.” I nodded my head. I knew he was right but there are somethings I can’t look past.

“Let’s finish our food so you can go change and get ready for the party. Shouto will go with you back to the house.” Now that put a smile on my face. My uncle set up a party with some of the people at the agency and the organization to introduce me to them.

“Hey little cousin you ever fly before?” That was the first time I’ve seen him show a big smile in a long time.

‘Phoenix? We don’t really have anything on her other than she’s from the states and has a license.’ They were of no help to him. He had been flying around for a while now, pulling his phone out he saw that his patrol was over now.

He landed on top of an apartment building, not really ready to go home yet. “She knew I was there before I even had Time to register that she flew past me.” He spoke out loud to himself. Unlocking his phone he went on to the internet and typed in her name.

He clicked the first video that popped up and it was of a major disaster somewhere in America.

‘The building off of 54th street is currently on fire and it seems like firefighters are having trouble controlling the flames!’ Hawks watched the video closely, people were screaming and running. It looked like a fairly tall building with a lot of offices in them. He saw people dangling on the fire escape or contemplating on jumping.

‘Look it’s Phoenix!’ The camera man zoomed out pointing the lens towards the sky. There she was just like how she looked today, powerful and beautiful. He paid attention when she raised her hands facing the building and closed her eyes. She was concentrating, soon he realized she was checking to see how many people were in the building. Taking her left hand she pulled it towards her body and you can see the people trapped in the building come out as if they were being held up by a string. Phoenix guided all the people down to safety where the medics were waiting but the fire was still out of control.

‘She’s gonna use her power move! Every one get back!!’ an officer yelled to the crowed. Then she did the most astonishing thing he may have ever seen. Her eyes started to glow as she took a deep breath. The flames seemed to start blowing towards her. Soon it was as if Phoenix was pulling the fire to her and she absorbed it her body being engulfed in the flames. When the building seemed like it wasn’t on fire anymore Phoenix shot up into the sky. Next thing Hawks saw on the screen she turned into the big ball of pure light her body took in all those flames.

Then there was silence ‘She has done it again pro hero Phoenix has saved the city and its civilians! We can always count on our beacon of safety, our beacon of light! Phoenix!’ Hawks was amazed she hovered down to the ground to go make sure everyone that was being checked on by the medics was okay and to talk to the firefighters that were on the scene. The last frame was a close up of her face hugging a small child that had a doll of her favorite hero in her hands, Phoenix. But that’s not what caught the young mans attention, it was her face. He can see she took a lot of damage with that move, yes it’s very powerful but it took a lot of her basic energy.

“You’re so well loved there why would you leave?” He needed to know more about her, thinking he thought of the only person who might know and flew in that direction.

It didn’t take the winged hero long before he got to destination. Landing on the balcony of the building he just let himself in.

“Hey Endeavor! I got a question for you.” The older hero didn’t even jump it was almost routine for the kid to come and bother him at least once a day.

“What do you want Hawks?” Endeavor never looked up from his paper work.

“I need to know if you have any information on the hero named Phoenix.” Hawks took a seat in the chair across the hero’s desk.

Sighing he knew this was gonna happen especially after his wonderful niece said she had a run in with him. “How about you come back here at 7 and I’ll be able to tell you everything about her, she’s a handful. Just go home and shower you look and smell awful.”

Smiling Hawks got up, “Aw Endeavor didn’t know you cared about my well being. But I’ll be back 7 sharp.” Leaving the way he came in Hawks couldn’t help but smirk.

“The next time we meet Phoenix, I’m gonna be the one to intimidate you. Looks like you messed with the wrong bird chickadee.”

Phoenix pov

I was in the car sent by my uncle on my way to the event. Crossing my legs I looked out the window watching as the city passed me by. I thought back to after me and Shouto left the agency I flew both of us back to the Todoroki house.

“How was your first flight on Air Force Phoenix?” I gently put him down on the ground soon following suit.

“It was really fun Quinn. To see the city like that was something special.” I heard his low voice say as we climbed up the stairs.

“I knew you would like it.” I stopped on the top of the stairs before we walked in the house, I stopped him.

“Hey Shouto come here.” I motioned him with my hands to come closer. When he did I realized he wasn’t as little as he used to be. He had at least two inches over me. My arms found their way around his neck as I pulled him into a hug. I haven’t seen him since the incident I feel as if I couldn’t protect him. It was hard enough on me when Touya ran away I couldn’t let anything happen to Shouto too.

I felt his arms wrap around me hugging me really tight. His face buried in my shoulder. Stroking the back of his hair I felt the tears leave his eyes.

“It’s okay I’m here now. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” It hurt my heart to see him like this but I knew he wasn’t close to his siblings cause his father kept him in training but I made sure I texted him called him anything his father wasn’t going to stop me.

I pulled away from him making him look at me. “Now let’s get that face all washed and cleaned before you head back to the dorms okay?” He nodded at me and we walked through the door where I was greeted by my two other cousins.

Smiling to myself it felt nice to be here but I know the homesickness will hit me hard.

“Miss we’re here.” The driver brought me back to reality as he opened my door and helped me out of the car.

“Thank you sir.” I flashed him a sweet smile only to see the older man have a slight blush hit his cheeks.

Walking up to the building the doors opened automatically. The windows were so tinted you couldn’t see from the outside but the inside was gorgeous. Tall ceilings, wooden molds and accents throughout the lobby and some desks were some of the sidekicks sat. Pressing the up button to call the elevator I checked myself in the reflection of the metal doors. Nodding in approval I smirked. ‘Still a bad bitch Quinn.’ The room was full of people some people dressed for the occasion which was semi formal or people still in there costumes. As soon as I stepped off the elevator I felt everyone’s eyes on me.

“There you are Phoenix!” I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Endeavor making his way to me. He was still in his costume that man never stopped for a second. “I didn’t know so many people were gonna be here.” I said through my teeth at him. The amount of people in the room made it look like this was the hero billboard announcements. “Well word got out that this was for you and after your little stunt today everyone wanted to see the new bird in the sky. I know you hate crowds this big but let’s just try to get through it together.” I knew he wasn’t one for a large amount of people either. Smiling at him I hooked my arm in his as we made our way around the room greeting my new Colleagues.

An hour passed and I was still making my way around the room introducing myself to everyone. I was on my second gin tonic for the night cause we all knew I was gonna need it. Some of the people I met were really nice, but I did come across a few male hero’s that wanted more than just my name and quirk. Some of them were very much up front about it but the minute Endeavor came near me they would scatter like roaches.

“Hey uncle can I use you office for a second?” I need a moment to myself and he understood that. Nodding he guided me to his office so that no one would bother me as I made my way there.

Closing the door behind me I exhaled. At lot happened in a matter of twenty four hours, I moved to a new country, made an apprehension had a reunion with my cousins then had to come here and talk to people.

“This jet lag is kicking my ass.”sighing I plopped down on my uncle’s chair leaning back. I closed my eyes, I’ll just stay here for about thirty minutes.

I was sitting there for only ten minutes when I felt a cold breeze shoot through the room. Shivers went up my spine, if someone was trying to break in I’d have to stop them just wish it didn’t have to be in my skirt and heels. I heard someone shuffle in the door that was connected to the balcony. Trying to be as quick and as silent as I could I snuck around the chair. It was dark in the room and I couldn’t really see who it was, didn’t matter there was a lot of important people here I had to get a handle on the situation before anyone finds out.

Pressing my back against a wall that was covered on the darkness I stalked closer to the intruder. I could tell it was a male by the figure, when I was close enough I used my powers to throw the jerk to the ground on his back. Moving quickly I stepped on the his chest with my heels. I used my right hand to form a fire ball pointing it to the intruders face.

“Whoa there fire bird it’s just me!” I recognized that voice. Oh shit! “Hawks?!” “I don’t mind the view from down here but you might have a problem with it.” He smirked up at me.

Shoving him with my heel I took my foot off his chest. He was coughing and rubbing the wounded area.

“Why would you sneak into an office like that?” I went to go turn on the lights while he peeled himself off the floor.

“Why were you sitting here in the dark?” He finally lifted his head up to look at me and I could see in his eyes he was shocked. I watched as his eyes traveled up from my black open toed heels to my black leather skirt that came up right above my knees, up to my off the sleeve white lace top.

“Hey bird brain my eyes are up here.” The look he had was the same look the other guys out there had in their eyes. Before he could say anything Endeavor opened the door. Both our heads turned to him as he looked at us.

“Hawks, late as usual.” I watched my uncle close the door behind him as he made his way to stand in between us. Taking this moment to actually look at the young pro hero in front of me. I guess he didn’t get the memo about this being a semi formal event. I’m pretty sure my uncle forgot to mention that to him. He stood there black doc martens on his feet, dark blue jeans that weren’t too tight and not to baggy on his lower half. A nice black v neck t-shirt and a leather jacket over his shoulders. But what really got me was the accessories he was wearing, a silver necklace with what looked like wings hung from his neck, about three silver stud earrings in each ear and rings on his fairly large fingers. If this was a different setting and I didn’t know him and he wasn’t so much younger than me he may have had a chance. I shook my head trying to clear it of those thoughts.

“There was traffic?” Hawks shrugged his shoulders smiling at the older hero.

“Well you made it just in time anyway both of you come out. Phoenix let’s get you to make a speech.”

I turned and made my way out the door never giving Hawks a second glance but I could feel his eyes on me.

Following Endeavor up to the podium In the front of the room Hawks was right behind us. Climbing up the stairs I stood next to Endeavor as he started his introduction.

“Thank you for joining me on this special occasion. I would like to welcome a new hero to my agency, my niece Quinn or as you all may know her after her debut today Phoenix!” Everyone in the room applauded me as I made my way to the mic but not before passing a glance to Hawks who looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

I stood in front of the crowed showing them my brightest smile. “It’s my pleasure to be here. There is nothing I enjoy more than saving civilians and taking out villains. From this moment on I have everyone in this room backs as we work together to fight the evil that’s in this world.” Bowing to the crowed I walked off the stage making my way to the shocked Hawks.

“Seems like we know each other now don’t we Keigo?” I whispered in his ear as I passed him letting my fingers play with the chain that was hanging around his neck for a second before I walked to the group of reporters that seemed like they had questions for me.

———————————————— I know it’s long trust me but I really wanted you to get a feel of who Quinn is and the dynamic between her and Hawks. Like and comment! Comments let me know that people actually like my writing lol.

[imaginingsoftly]

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time Pt. 9 - Morgan Rielly

Type: roommates to lovers, Y/N insert shorts, bed sharing (my favorite trope ever)

Requested: No

Warnings: arguing, minor meltdown, kissing(finally)

(Y/N = Your name, Y/N’s POV to Morgan’s, POV changes marked with a line)

A/N: Surprise, I managed to get another chapter out. My classes are coming to an end this week, so I should be able to write more frequently. Also, a few of you wanted some actual relationship action, so I’m thinking maybe two or three more parts?

“He kissed you? Twice?” Kat’s exclamations had Y/N shushing her quickly, looking over Kat’s shoulder to make sure Morgan hadn’t heard her from where he stood across the room. “Why am I just now hearing about this?” If Y/N hadn’t known her friend better, she’d think Kat was about to hit her.

Actually, knowing Kat she would. “Keep your voice down!” Kat rolled her eyes, unsatisfied. “He kissed my forehead, not a real kiss. We had played a drinking game, we were drunk and being friendly.” Y/N whispered her response and sent another anxious look at Morgan, though he caught her looking this time. He smiled gently at her, and Y/N smiled back. 

“You’re so into him it’s stupid, Y/N just fucking admit it and be happy for once.” It wasn’t like Kat to get angry like this, except maybe with her family. “You spend so much time worrying about your students and all of us that you forget to take care of yourself. When’s the last time you slept?” Y/N opened her mouth to protest Kat’s statements, but Kat cut her off. “No. I know for a fact you haven’t been sleeping, because Mo mentioned you were up when they got back from their roadie the other day. He notices you, Y/N, and he cares about you on a personal level.” Her tone softened slightly when she saw Y/N’s face. “I just want you to be happy, hun. I know you love your job and taking care of people is just who you are, but you deserve to have someone taking care of you too.”

She was right, and that was the worst part, but Y/N wasn’t going to go down that road. Mo enjoyed her company, he wasn’t into her like that. “We’re friends, Kat. Andrei kisses my forehead sometimes too, you know that.” 

Kat punched Y/N’s shoulder and gestured at Andrei dismissively. “Yeah, but he’s not into you like that. It’s like kissing his sister.” Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Kat cut her off. “And no, clueless, Mo doesn’t mean it like that. He wants in your pants.” The latter statement had Y/N spitting the sip of beer she’d taken onto Kat in surprise. 

“Shit, Kat, I’m sorry!” Kat looked at her friend in disbelief, and Andrei was at Kat’s side before Y/N could do anything, pulling her gently towards their room to change. Y/N sighed and leaned back against the wall, taking a gulp of beer rather than just a sip. 

Thankfully, Morgan and the others were oblivious to what had happened. Teuvo had them all engaged in a debate about something, and none of them would have noticed if she’d stripped naked right there, let alone a minor disagreement between her and Kat. “She’s right, you know.” Y/N jumped as a hand came to rest on her hip and Dougie’s voice sounded from behind her. “He wants you bad. Not just into your pants, though,” he corrected quickly, “like for real. Mo’s got it bad.” She twisted to look up at the defenseman, ready to argue, but he held up a hand. “Don’t. I’ve known you for a couple of years now, and he’s my D partner. You’re so into each other it’s stupid.” 

Dougie looked past you and laughed. “He’s on his way over here right now. Tell me, would a guy that isn’t into you care that I’m standing this close?” He stepped to the side and around you, heading towards the guys without another word. Morgan did look kind of mad, she would give him that. Dougie smirked at Morgan as they passed each other, and he twisted his head to wink at you from behind Morgan’s back once he was past his partner. 

“You okay?” Morgan’s hands came up to rest on your shoulders as he looked at you with concern.

What? Y/N looked at him confusedly. “It’s just Dougie, Morgan, he’s fine.” 

Now it was Morgan’s turn to be confused. “What? No. I meant with Kat. It looked like you guys were fighting.” Of course he had noticed. Y/N nodded, and Morgan seemed to get the message she didn’t want to elaborate, because he smiled. “You want to get out of here? I know you have that meeting tomorrow, do you want to try and go to bed early?” He killed her when he was that thoughtful. Morgan somehow seemed to remember her schedule better than she could, and his knack for remembering her meetings meant he almost never failed to make sure she was in a good mental state. He’d come home late from a road trip on more than one occasion to find her still awake, and sometimes his reminders to go to sleep were the only thing that kept her from dropping from exhaustion. 

“The meeting got cancelled and rescheduled to Monday because they’d rather we do it in person,” she said, “but I would love to go to sleep.” Morgan smiled at her again. “Okay. Let’s say goodnight to everyone, and then we can go.” The guys were reluctant for the two to leave, minus Dougie, who gave Y/N a wink when she looked in his direction. She sent an unimpressed look back, and he pulled her in for a hug.

“Tell him, Y/N,” he whispered into her ear. Y/N pulled back and gave Dougie another glare. He ruffled her hair, completely unbothered. Kat and Andrei had yet to return, so Morgan and Y/N yelled their goodbye up the stairs. She would talk to Kat in the morning and explain. 

Morgan led her out of the house and held out his hand for her keys. “Can I drive?” Y/N nodded and handed them over wordlessly. Kat and Dougie’s words were still flying through her head as she settled into the passenger seat, and Morgan seemed to get the message that she didn’t want to talk. He drove them back into the city silently, the only sound in the car from the radio. It was hard to believe that he was interested in her as well. He was such a carefree guy, and here she was this bundle of nervous energy and caffeine. Their friendship worked, but she wasn’t sure that they could actually be together. Sooner or later he was going to get tired of her neediness and then she’d lose one of her best friends. 

“You okay, Red Sox?” Morgan’s hand settled onto her knee with a gentle squeeze. Y/N snapped back into the present, and she looked over at Morgan to find the car had stopped and he was twisted in his seat to face her. He looked concerned, like maybe they had been parked for a while. 

Y/N stared out into the parking garage for a beat before responding. “Do you ever get tired of reminding me to take care of myself?” She was afraid to look at Morgan’s face, but she didn’t have a choice when he gently gripped her chin and turned her face to look at him. Morgan looked shell-shocked as he responded. “Why would you ever think that?” Y/N shrugged, and she was struggling not to cry as she continued to meet his eyes. “I was just thinking about all the times you’ve reminded me that I need to sleep, or eat something, or reassured me that I’m a good teacher, and I figured you’re probably tired of it by now.”

Morgan was staring at her like she was crazy, and that was it. Y/N jumped out of the car, hurrying to the stairs like she could pretend the conversation had never happened. “Red Sox!” She heard Morgan swear, jumping out of the car and hurrying after her. “Y/N, wait!” She ignored him, and began running up the stairs as quickly as she could, taking them two at a time. She was fast enough to beat him to the apartment, but swore when she realized Morgan had the keys. He appeared in the hallway right as she slumped back against the door to the apartment. Morgan was breathing heavily, and he approached her like he was afraid she’d run away again. Y/N dropped her head to avoid looking into his eyes, and slid into the apartment as soon as Morgan had the door unlocked. 

Y/N was already heading towards her room when Morgan caught her wrist, spinning her around to face him. He didn’t look mad when she finally met his eyes, and she was startled to find that she was crying as he gently swiped a thumb over her cheek. “What happened, sweetheart?” Y/N shook her head. This was exactly what she was worried about. She’d lose it, and he was always there to listen. Morgan sighed and pulled her tight into his chest. “I don’t mind reminding you to eat, or to sleep, or to make sure you know how amazing you are. You’re my favorite superhero, Y/N, and I try my best to tell you whenever I can.” Y/N choked out a laugh, and she felt Morgan’s chest move as he chuckled as well. “You’re my friend, Red Sox, and I’m here for you no matter what. That’s what friends do.” He kissed the top of her head gently, and Y/N pulled back to look up at him. Morgan reached out and tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “Is that what you and Kat were arguing about?” Y/N shook her head. 

“No,” she said, her voice raw from crying, “it was something else. What she said just got me thinking about other stuff, and then I spiraled. I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” Morgan cupped her face gently, and Y/N went a little weak in the knees at his expression. “So I’m your favorite superhero, huh,” she teased to change the subject. 

Morgan laughed and let go of her face to pull out his phone. “I forgot you don’t know about that yet.” He settled on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “We had these kids ask us interview questions the other day after practice,” Morgan began once Y/N sat next to him, “and one of them asked who our favorite superhero was. You were the first person that popped into my head.” Y/N began to protest, and he put an arm around her shoulders to tug her closer. “No, Red Sox, seriously. You’re a superhero, and you’re my favorite. Hell, even Svech and a couple of the other guys agreed with me.” Y/N leaned her head onto Morgan’s shoulder and slid an arm across his stomach to give him a hug. 

They sat like that in silence to watch the video. It really was cute. The kid who had asked the question was only 4 or 5 years old, and Morgan was just as good with him as he was every other kid Y/N had watched him interact with. The kid had laughed when Morgan said she was his favorite superhero, but he seemed to like the answer more when Morgan said every teacher was a superhero. It was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever said about her, and she was having trouble putting that appreciation into words. Y/N only spoke when the Canes logo showed on the screen. “I don’t tell you enough that I appreciate you, Mo. Thank you.” 

“Please don’t call me that.” Y/N lifted her head to look at Morgan in confusion. He continued before she could speak anymore, a small apologetic smile on his lips. “You’re the only person I know who calls me Morgan. I like that. I always know when you’re the one calling my name.” 

Y/N burst into laughter, and Morgan followed along with her. “That is quite possibly the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me, and you have some of the cheesiest one-liners I’ve ever heard.” She settled deeper into Morgan’s side. “I need to go to sleep, but you’re really comfy.” 

The world tilted suddenly as Morgan swept her into his arms and stood all in the same breath. “We’ll cuddle then. You need your sleep.” He carried her into her room, settling her gently onto the bed, though he leaned down to look into her eyes. “Are you okay with this?” Y/N nodded, and Morgan’s smile gave her enough serotonin to last her the week. “I’ll go get ready for bed, and I’ll be right back.” Y/N stared into the hallway he’d just disappeared into for a second, collecting herself before she even tried to stand. This was either going to be a great night's sleep, or totally suck because the guy she was into was going to share her bed completely platonically.

By the time Morgan came back, Y/N was plugging in her phone to charge. It was a good thing she was already sitting, because a shirtless Morgan in loose pajama pants was going to do her in. It wasn’t like she’d never seen him like this before; the guy had a tendency to walk around the apartment half-dressed, but he’d never done it in the context they were in right now. Y/N lifted the covers slightly, and Morgan slid in next to her. It was awkward for a second, when Morgan went in like he was going to spoon her and Y/N turned to face him like they were going to talk, but she ended up tucked neatly into his chest with their faces inches apart. 

Some hair had fallen over Y/N’s eyes during the shuffle, and Morgan reached up to sweep it off her face. His hand settled onto her cheek for a second before his arm slid back around her middle and pressed them closer together. The eye contact became too much when paired with how close their bodies were, so Y/N tucked her head into his neck, breaking their eye contact. Morgan shifted the arm trapped underneath her to wrap it around her shoulders, and he pressed another gentle kiss to the side of her head. “This is nice,” he whispered into her hair. Y/N nodded in agreement, though it wasn’t necessarily easy to move her head. “You matter a lot to me, Y/N, and I’m here for anything you need no matter what, even if it’s just to cuddle.” 

Y/N smiled into Morgan’s neck and hugged him a little tighter. “Thanks, Morgan. I needed this.” They settled in after that, and Y/N fell asleep faster than she had in years. It was the first time in a long time she’d fallen asleep sober without overthinking her way into stress, and the weight of Morgan’s arm across her middle was more comforting than any weighted blanket could ever be. 

____________________________________________

Morgan woke the next morning in unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a second to register where he was and to remember how he got there, though he relaxed when he looked down and saw Y/N still cuddled into his chest. They were in the same position they’d fallen asleep in. Y/N must have felt him move, because she cuddled deeper into his chest with a sigh. He froze when she kissed his neck, and realized he was totally screwed. Holding her was becoming his favorite thing, and getting to see her totally relaxed was a treat. Their lazy Saturdays together were rare, and he planned to take full advantage of this one, at least until he had to go to morning skate.

Y/N must have sensed him staring, because she opened her eyes slowly and stiffened when she felt someone else in the bed. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he whispered softly, and she relaxed when she recognized his voice. Y/N smiled up at him sleepily, and she might as well have punched him in the stomach. 

“What time is it?” Y/N’s groan was muffled as she pressed her face back into his neck. “I’m just gonna stay here all day.” Morgan chuckled and squeezed her gently. “It’s about 8am,” he said through laughter, “and I don’t think staying here all day is an option.” Y/N groaned, and he laughed even harder. “Believe me, sweetheart, I’d stay here all day if I could, but I’ve got a game to play tonight.” 

She sighed and flopped onto her back. “Fine,” she grumbled, “but I’m getting up under protest.” Morgan struggled to fight the urge to lean over and kiss her. “How long do you have before you have to leave?” Y/N sat up slowly, not waiting for a response, and Morgan reached over to pulled her back into him. He cuddled her into his lap as he leaned on the headboard, and Y/N fell back into him like her body was made of jello. “You know, Morgan,” she said teasingly, “if you don’t stop being such a good cuddler I’m going to have to sleep with you every night.” Y/N froze after she spoke, like she realized what she’d said, and Morgan kissed her cheek. 

“At least let me take you out on a date first.” Y/N’s eyes widened after he spoke, and Morgan felt a little panicked. That was not at all how he’d intended for this conversation to go. Yeah, Hamilton had finally convinced him they needed to talk about their feelings, but maybe she wasn’t ready to. “Sorry, that came out wrong, I,” Y/N stopped him with a hand over his mouth. 

She looked at his face searchingly, and he tried not to panic too much the longer the silence continued. “You like me,” she stated. He nodded from under her hand, and she gave a small smile. “I like you.” Now it was Morgan’s turn to smile. So Hamilton was right, she was interested. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Y/N leaned forward slowly, giving him time to back up if he wanted to, so he surged forward and met her halfway. 

It was electric. It was also a little gross because they hadn’t gotten around to the whole tooth-brushing part of the morning, but Morgan barely noticed because finally he was kissing her. Y/N began to smile, and Morgan leaned back to look into her eyes. “So you like me, huh?” She laughed at Morgan’s statement, and pressed another kiss to his lips. He would never get tired of that feeling. 

“I do. But I need to brush my teeth before I kiss you again.” Morgan tried to catch her before she slipped out of the bed, but she was too fast. He groaned before standing as well, shuffling towards his own room. “Meet me in the kitchen,” Y/N yelled from her bathroom, and Morgan yelled back a response. Finally. He was having trouble relaxing his face enough to brush his teeth, smiling apparently the new permanent expression on his face. He had wanted to tell her last night, when he saw Dougie standing so closely and his hand settled on her hip, but then she had been so upset and it seemed like the wrong time to have a conversation like that. 

Y/N was already in the kitchen by the time he made it out of his room, and Morgan had a feeling she was making pancakes. She relaxed into him as he stepped in behind her, and a quick look at the ingredients she’d pulled out confirmed they were indeed eating pancakes for breakfast. Morgan pulled out his phone to play some music, settling on Y/N’s cooking playlist, the only one of her playlists he’d saved onto his own Spotify. It was a mix of old songs, ranging from Fleetwood Mac to Elton John to Louis Armstrong, and it was perfect music for dancing in the kitchen. 

My Girl began playing over the speakers, and Morgan tugged on Y/N’s hand. “Dance with me.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at Morgan, but she settled her other hand onto his shoulder. He spun her around the tiny kitchen, twirling her out and back in again, anything to make her laugh. She sang along to the song softly, and Morgan began loudly singing as well, exaggerating the words with twirls and tugs. He ended the song with a dip, and Y/N laughed out loud when he kissed her as he pulled her back up. “This is our song, you know.” Morgan brushed a bit of hair out of Y/N’s face as he spoke. “Remember back before Christmas when we had all the guys over for Taco Tuesday and we danced to this song? About halfway through I realized I was in love with you.”

Y/N reached up to cup Morgan’s cheek, and her eyes held so much love he could barely breathe. “I realized that same night,” she said, and his heart swelled. “Although I realized it later, when we were cleaning up together after everybody had left. It felt so domestic, and I realized I wanted more with you.” Morgan turned his head to kiss the palm of Y/N’s hand, and then slid his arms around her waist.

“We’ve really been on the same page since the beginning, eh?” He chuckled, and Y/N nodded slowly. 

“I’m really glad you didn’t turn out to be a weirdo,” Y/N responded. “I was really worried about having some asshole professional athlete living with me.” Morgan raised his eyebrows at her, and she hurriedly added, “not that anybody gave me the impression you would be, but I was a little worried anyway.” She pulled out of Morgan’s arms to finish making the pancake batter, and Morgan perched onto the kitchen counter to watch her cook. 

She seemed more relaxed, like their relationship was something that had been weighing on her. “Can I take you out on a real date tomorrow? Before we leave for the roadie?” Y/N poured the pancake batter into the pans before responding, and he started to sweat a little waiting for a response. 

Finally Y/N responded, looking up at him with a smile. “I’d really like that. Your commute to come get me won’t be too bad either,” she joked, and Morgan laughed. Before he could respond there was a knock at the door, and he hopped off the counter to open it. Kat stood on the other side looking a little nervous, which was highly unlike her. Morgan gestured for her to enter, and she shot him a grateful smile. Y/N bit her lip, and Morgan took that as a cue to leave. 

“It’s fine, Morgan,” Y/N called after him. “You don’t need to go anywhere.” He stopped, and Y/N turned back to Kat. “You were right, K, and we talked. Everything’s worked out, and I’m sorry for freaking out on you last night.” Kat looked between Morgan and Y/N intensely, and he could see her brain putting the pieces together.

Her face changed when it all finally clicked, and she surged forward to hug Y/N. “Fucking finally! We can double-date now! I’ve gotta go tell Andrei!” She hugged Y/N again quickly, and stopped to punch Morgan’s shoulder on the way out. “I’m expecting a lot from you tonight, you’ve gotta impress your girl.” She surged out of the apartment without another word, and Hurricane Kat was over as quickly as it had arrived. Y/N was still standing there looking mildly shell-shocked, and Morgan felt the same way.

“Well,” Y/N finally managed, “at least we won’t have to tell your team? Kat will take care of that for us.” Morgan met her eyes from across the room, and they both burst into laughter. 

“So your argument was about us, I’m assuming?” Y/N slowly got her laughter under control as she nodded. “She figured out I was into you,” Y/N said, “and we were arguing about me telling you. We’ve made her entire spring, just so you’re aware.” 

Of course the entire team had figured out they were into each other. The guys were probably taking bets on who would tell whom and when it would happen. It was going to be one hell of a morning skate. 

[dianapana]

SasuHina Month 2020- Day 6

Prompt - Crime Detectives

 I woke up with the worst headache, as I try to move my hands to grip my temple to try to put some pressure on them and relief some of the pain I hear an incredibly loud sound that splits my head in two, my hands are met with resistance just inches away from my head. I fully open my eyes and the blinding light makes my head hurt even more; on reflex I try to move my hands again the sound comes back and everything just fucking hurts.

When I can finally keep my eyes open for more than 5 seconds without passing out, I look to my hands and see they are handcuffed together and to a sturdy iron table. I’m sitting in a similar chair and my legs are also tied to the chair. I raise my eyes further and find myself looking in a mirror.

I have no idea what the fuck is going on. I don’t remember how I got here. The last thing I remember is being home with my girlfriend Hinata. The thought of her unsettles me; if she was with me than, is she also here? Fuck I hope not. I don’t have much time to sort thought my thoughts because the door to the side opens and two men come in; one of them is dressed in a suit while the other has the usual police uniform on. They both sit down and stare at me for a moment before the one in the suit starts talking.

Do you know why you’re here son?” he looks almost smug, like me being here is doing it for him. I am instantly disgusted by him.  

“No.” I say, my throat is dry and my voice sounds weird even to my ears. My head still hurts and everything is almost heightened; I’ve felt like this before so I know that I might have a slight concussion.

The man in the suit rolls his eyes at me and leans in closer. “Don’t try playing coy. This investigation is only procedure, if it weren’t for the paper work you’d be behind bars for a really long time punk.” There’s a light in his eye that tells me he’s enjoying belittling me.

“Why would I be behind bars? What is it that you think I did?” I feel like I am part of some really bad Tv show about corrupt officers. Talking about officers, the man in uniform hasn’t said a word. I turn to look at him and he looks back at me. Unlike the other man he isn’t smug. He looks serious and puzzled. He’s trying to figure me out. The fact that this is real and that I am being accused of a crime finally dwells on me and I’m not too proud to admit that I’m fucking scared. I’ve seen documentaries about how a shit ton of people go to jail on false accusations. That piece of information was just a fun fact my brain absorbed and saved for later to drop in a random conversation, I never thought I would relate to it.

“Murder. That is what you did. You killed someone in cold blood” The man in the suit spits out those words. I know I’ve gone pale; I see it in the mirror. The room is spinning and I can’t breathe. For the first time the one in the uniform speaks.

“Deep breath son you’ll pass out”

I am well fucking aware I will. But maybe that’d be better. Maybe I’ll wake up to see Hinata’s face inches away from my face, a worried look on her face ‘You were trashing in your sleep’ she’d say and I’d assure her it was a nightmare. I’d hold her closer and go back to sleep with her head over my chest and everything would be ok. But I breath, close my eyes and when I open them, I’m still here.

“Who do you think I…?” I can’t even say the word. A thought goes though my mind and I feel like I’ll pass out all over again “Hinata, is she ok?” I kind of regret my words the moment they leave my lips. She has nothing to do with this and I might have just linked her to something awful.

I look to the uniform man because I expect more honesty from him than from the one in the suit. He looks pained and fuck if that doesn’t scare me. I want to cry; I don’t even care that I’m in front of these two, possibly more people watching from behind the mirror or on security cams.

“That is private information.” The one in the suit says. I blink and expect him to laugh tell me he’s joking and tell me the name of whoever they think I killed. But he doesn’t we keep staring at each other like fucking idiots. This feels less and less like real life. What the heck does he mean ‘private information’ I don’t even get to know who they think I presumably killed?

“I think that’s enough Kuzo-san” the one in the uniform says “I’ll take it from here” the one in the suit wants to argue, I can tell but his phone rings at that exact moment, he answers and leaves without any further argument.

“This doesn’t look good for you. The dead body of a 45-year-old man was found in the trunk of your car.” I breath relieved; I know it’s weird at this exact moment to do that, but I’m just glad that it isn’t Hinata that died. Having no recollection of anything but being with her and then being accused of murder made my brain have some weird connections. I think back to what he said and I finally remember a very important thing.

“My truck was stolen about a month ago. I called the police and reported it. A few days later I bought another car. There’s a ton of evidence to show I haven’t used it in over a month. I don’t know when you found the body but I’m sure it got there long after my truck was stolen.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Are you able to tell me with which officer you spoke about your stolen truck?”

“Officer Iruka. I even came down to the police station, signed a form and places a written declaration.” The more I talk the more he relaxes. I’m glad the other one left; I have no idea who the man killed was but that guy just wanted to say the case is closed, in my opinion, he didn’t care if they solved it correctly.

The man gets up and leaves the room. I’m left alone and my thoughts go back to Hinata. How did I get here? I bet she’s scared out of her mind. Does she know I’m here? Was she with me? Are they accusing her of being an accomplice or some stupid shit like that? A few moments pass before the door opens again and I hear a voice screaming; all my senses are on edge. That was Itachi’s voice. I could always recognize him. I’ve never heard him scream. He’s always level headed even in the heated arguments we’ve had over the years.

The man in the uniform comes to the table but he doesn’t sit down; instead he walks around it and goes down to one knee and unties the rope around mt legs. His jaw is tight so I can only assume he’s clenching his teeth. “I checked your story out and it checks out” He says and unlocks my hands. “Even so we can’t let you go yet; no matter how fucking stupid this is. The other guy, he’s a crime detective hired by the victim’s family and apparently, he’s dead seat on you being the criminal. We won’t interview you any further for now. Your brother is out there you are allowed to talk to him. Get a lawyer kid; this will end fine for you but sadly it will take some paperwork and time”

He leads me from behind to the door; if I thought the room before was lighted this one is brighter than the fucking sun and my head still hurts like a bitch.

“Sasuke!” Itachi comes running to me but he’s not the one that hugs me; Hinata is. She was behind him all along. Her shoulders shake and I know she’s crying.

“I was so scared. This man comes to the house and knocks you out; I tell him that I’ll call the cops and he told me not to bother and showed me his officer badge. I’m sorry I got so scared I called Itachi to come” Her voice is small. Finally, thanks to her I know what happened but I’m more pissed now. The man dared come to our house.

“Is that how the police act nowadays? Break into people’s houses and accuse them of murder without having all the facts?” Itachi is the one talking and he’s questioning the man behind me.

“Is that what happened miss?” he addresses Hinata. She looks up at him and nods. He’s even more pissed now than before.

“I will need your statement. But first; is this the man?” he asks her and shows Hinata a picture of the man in the suit. Hinata nods once again. He sighs again and talks into the station on his shoulder.

“Cuff Kuzo-san. I’ll be there in a few” he turns back to us “after we finish with your official statement miss you are all free to go; but please don’t leave the city in the next 48h” I have no idea why this man in the suit would want to pin the crim on me but it seems he did a very poor job.

It takes Hinata about 5 minutes to give her statement; Itachi keeps rubbing his forehead and I can’t keep my eyes open for more than a couple seconds at a time. “It’s fucking frightening getting a call in the middle of the night from your girlfriend telling me that you got arrested or some shit” I bet it was.

“For the first about 5 minutes after I woke up in there, I kept thinking it was all a joke. We should swing by the pharmacy; I think I have a concussion”

Hinata comes back, her eyes are red and tired; all I want to do is go home and sleep; sleep while I hold her and not think about this shit. Criminal detectives my fucking ass. That dude is a phony and either doesn’t know how to do this fucking job or he had a hidden agenda against me for some reasons; who knows.

“Let’s go home and forget this ever happened.” Hinata says and takes my hand in hers. They are small and soft and warm. My mind goes back to those few moments when I thought it was her that had died and my heart felt like it had been swallowed by a black void. I look at her, now, trying to act strong for my sake. I look at Itachi; she called him crying just after the incident; I’m certain she has had it worse than I did in this time. I stop in my track and pull her to me in another hug. I love everything about her from her smell to her laugh and annoying addiction to cinnamon; from her eyes to her smile and the freckles she has on her chest. Since I woke up my head has been feeling fuzzy because of the concussion but just now I get a moment of clarity.

I let her go and kiss her nose. She offers me a small tired smile. She’s beautiful even tired and with her hair looking a mess; I notice she’s wearing the same shirt she was about to sleep in last night and jeans. There’s nothing in my mind now but her. I drop to one knee in the hallways of the police station and open my mouth to ask her to marry me but Hinata cuts me off.

“What are you doing?” she looks around, I assume people are looking at us but I don’t care. “Sasuke get up; this isn’t funny. I just want to get home” she extends her hand to me silently telling me again to get up. I take her hand but instead of getting up I turn it around and kiss the back of it.

“Hinata, will you marry me?” I ask her and she looks alarmed but it’s so fucking adorable.

“Jesus, Sasuke, what the hell. We’re in a police station after one of the worst nights of my life and you’re asking me to marry you? Are you for real right now?”

“He has a concussion” says Itachi somewhere in the fundal and Hinata’s eyes widen in concern.

“I’m not doing this because I hit my head. I’ve been thinking about it, how and when to ask, I’ve been carrying around with me the ring for about 2 months now always chickening out at the last moment. Bu now it felt right, I don’t know why. But I am ‘for real’ Hinata. I love you and I want you to be my wife. I want to spend all my life with you” her expression changes from disbelief to something I can’t really read but I hope is happiness; she’s tearing up.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, you big goof. Now get up” She pulls me to her and this time I go willingly. I kiss her and smile down at her.

“I’ve had that ring with me everyday for 2 months and couldn’t do it, and now that I did it, I don’t have the ring on me…I’ll give it to you when we get home. I promise”

What started out as the worst day ever ended up being the push, I needed to do what I had been afraid of; it put things in perspective. I thought asking her to marry me was frightening but the thought of her not being with me forever scared me even more. I look over my shoulder and see the man in the uniform and officer Iruka smile at me. Maybe I do own that stupid ass criminal detective something; but I’ll probably never admit that out loud. That fucker doesn’t deserve anything.