#my routine? try to take notes in lectures and start drawing

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

Been a fan of doodling neon colored rats lately 🍁🍂

[earlysunshines]

dontcha (want me?)

kang haerin x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: haerin doesn’t like you just because and then you hit her in the head with a volleyball and now she has a valid reason to not like you but now YOU have a reason to try to warm up to her

warnings: volleyball player!reader ; haerin is just like me in this I easily hate ; brief one sided enemies to lovers but very brief ; reader lowk whipped ; haerin whipped but she hides it better... maybe ; pure fluff no angst isn't that crazy ; so cute icl ; anything else I didn't mention ; haven't written in twenty years basically this is nooot my best ; not proofread

a/n: you don't understand how much i appreciate haerin's cover of dontcha (listen while you read!! or at least near the second half lolol) bc I'm so obsessed I keep looping the song that song is my everything... also, tried a diff pacing/writing style so lmk what u guys think :-P

haerin never really liked you. 

she’s never actually met you, but in her defense, once she has a reason not to like someone (or that tiny feeling in her gut that draws her away), the feeling grows and grows—quietly, steadily—until it fills every space it can. and you? you’ve given her plenty to work with.

considering your athletic reputation as the university’s star outside hitter, you're relatively well-known around campus. that’s her first strike—not that it’s a bad thing, just enough for haerin to put you in a different world in her mind. two sides of a coin. peas of different pods—and so forth. you’re louder, more outgoing, bright in a way that feels abrasive to her more reserved nature.

your friends don’t help your case either. they snicker during lectures while haerin is trying to take notes, organize her planner, or simply pay attention. even in the halls of the building or on the  respective way to your classes—you somehow manage to pass by her at least twice a day—-your friends are making you push them away because they made you laugh too hard and suddenly the quiet of the arts building is filled with your voice.

so, she didn’t really acknowledge you at first despite the connections you shared with two of her friends eunchae and minji. but when you decided to switch majors before your second semester and started spending more time in her building, ruining the comfortable routine and atmosphere,  that was the beginning of her personal second semester curse.

(haerin’s heard of the infamous second semester curse; she figured it’d just be due to a heavier academic load and whatnot, not for it to manifest in the form of you.)

and if she was being honest, you’d never actually done anything to her. haerin was just being a little more judgmental than she liked to admit—or as her best friend danielle would say, “you’re just being the usual haerin”—and you, all bright and loud, were simply everything she wasn’t very fond of. it was easier to dislike you that way.

but today, she finally had a tangible reason to back up her detestation.

“holy shit—” haerin hears you curse, your voice panicked as sneakers squawk against the gym floor.

the world spins a little as haerin presses her palm against her head, wincing. 

you’re already sprinting over, wide-eyed and breathless, guilt written all over your face as you slow down to a stop.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt, unsure of what to do now that you’re right in front of her. “i swear i wasn’t aiming for you—are you okay? can you stand? should i get someone? oh my god i’m so sorry!”

your voice fully registers in her mind and through the haze of pain, haerin blinks up at you.

of course it had to be you.

of course you had to hit her.

of course you had to look at her like that—so worried, so intense.

and for some reason, that annoys her even more.

“i’m fine.” haerin says through gritted teeth, holding the side of her face that was pummeled by a volleyball. now it makes sense why you’re the star outside hitter, because it hurt. it wasn’t even your worst spike. 

she grumbles, “could you watch where you’re hitting next time?”

“i’m so sorry, really.” you hesitate, hand still hovering awkwardly in the air before it reaches over to haerin’s so you can check the side of her face, but she steps back.

“seriously,” she says, sharper this time. “i’m fine.”

you flinch a little at her tone, guilt flashing across your features before you try to cover it up with a sheepish smile. 

“right, um, sorry.” you say, backing off and biting the inside of your lip. “but seriously, i’m so sorry. you can, um, like, hit me back if you want? you can throw the volleyball at my face in return—ah, um, revenge. eye for an eye? or i can treat you to something… if you…”

your voice dies down at the sight of her glare, and because she’s taken her hand off her face and wow the color is nasty—a dark red that might just fade into a near purple in the next hour.

she looks at you, unimpressed, and flatly says, “i’m not five.”

you laugh under your breath, scratching the back of your neck. “fair. but if you change your mind, i won’t argue back or anything,” you offer, pointing to your cheek dramatically. “free shot. no consequences.”

for a second, haerin truly wants to slap you in the face. she wants to roll her eyes and walk away. wants to keep being annoyed, to keep clinging to that righteous, simmering dislike she’s built up for no reason.

but you stand there so weirdly genuine and stupidly endearing in your own loud, clumsy way that makes it harder for her to hate on you the way she wants to. 

she huffs—loud enough for you to hear and swallow lightly from her terrifying energy—then gives you a small groan before turning and walking away without another word.

behind her, you raise your voice just a bit as you call out, cheerful despite the tension, “i’ll take that as a maybe!”

haerin doesn’t turn around. she just keeps walking, cheeks nearly as warm as the side of her head.

—

the next day haerin has to add a good two layers of color corrector, concealer, and foundation in order to cover up the giant bruise on the side of her face. 

after the incident yesterday, the nurse gave her an ice pack and a “take care!” to compensate for your damage because ‘regular’ university students do not get the same attention as an athlete with a torn acl, unfortunately.

she sits down at her usual spot for her music history class, pulling out her laptop and current reading for the course as she waits for hanni. but before hanni can steal a seat next to her, someone else does.

“hi, i don’t know if you remember me. i mean, you probably do…” haerin glances to her right, jaw tensing at the sight of you and hearing your voice. “i, um, got you this…”

you hand her a small box of strawberry chocolate bites, offering her a small smile to break the tension. 

but haerin doesn’t give in.

“why?” she asks.

“what?”

“i don’t need your chocolate,” haerin responds flatly. “you can go back to your friends now.” she adds, redirecting her attention back on the book in front of her. 

“no, no. please, i—i insist. i’ve been on that end, worse than what you had to endure though, and it’s really bad, just—”

“just because i’m not you doesn’t mean i can’t handle a ball hitting my face. i’m good, are we done?”

haerin notices the look of shock that makes your features twitch slightly. you avoid eye contact then, pursing a smile before pushing the chocolate toward her. 

“look. i’m not the type of person to let these things slide. it might seem small to me, but i want to make it up to you. take these chocolates for now,” you sigh, standing up. haerin looks up at you curiously, her expression never shifting as you finally say, “bye.”

—

there was a noticeable routine throughout the next two weeks that you couldn’t seem to break.

you’d cross paths with haerin often, because apparently fate had a terrible sense of humor, and you made sure to acknowledge her each time. it started off small” a smile, nod, or a soft “hey” in her direction. none of it was overbearing, just… persistent. it’s how you are.

even when haerin pretended to notice (she sure noticed each and every time), you never faltered. if her gaze so much as brushed yours, you’d light up immediately, offering a little wave that would never fail to be left hanging. 

in class, it was the same. she always sat in the same spot — the third row from the front, fourth seat in — and you always scanned the room for her as soon as you walked in. when you found her (which you always did), you’d stroll past, knock gently on the edge of her desk with your knuckles, and smile before heading to your own seat across the room.

haerin didn’t understand any of it.

why were you being so nice to her? what were your intentions?

it was all so… strange.

hitting her in the head shouldn’t have led to… whatever this was. she’d expected you to move on and forget it. you have much bigger things to worry about anyway, as the outside hitter. instead, it felt like you were making a point to force your way into her peripheral vision every single day.

she’d been skeptical, very skeptical. she’d spend a few minutes zoned out, trying to think about what you were up to, and why it seemed so welcoming. but no, haerin can’t give in. that’s not like her, not for someone like you.

it wasn’t until her confusion simmered down that she found herself out one afternoon with her group of friends huddled around a crowded table at a campus cafe, sipping on iced teas.

“remember when you told us about the volleyball-to-your-head incident?” minji asks, switching the conversation topic from the most annoying professor to you.

haerin raises a brow. “yeah, why?”

“y/n’s been spiraling because of it.” minji says casually, twirling her straw. “because of you.”

haerin blinks, caught mid-sip. “...what?”

“yeah.” minji grins. “she thinks you hate her. she feels awful about it.”

hanni nods, a bite of a sandwich halfway to her mouth. “i feel bad for the girl,” she adds around a mouthful, earning a look from danielle. “sorry dani. but yeah, minji was telling me about it kinda. damn.”

“so you’re just going to tell hanni about a story that involves… me? without telling me first?” haerin rolls her eyes playfully.

“okay well to be fair she’s my roommate so how about that.” minji argues. “anyway, ever since the volleyball thing,” she continues, leaning forward like she’s about to drop the craziest news ever (knowing minji, it’s probably not that crazy), “she’s been convinced she made an enemy out of you. like, actually upset about it. she keeps asking me if she should apologize again, if she’s being annoying, if she should just stop trying…”

haerin stares at her, stunned into silence.

you? of all people? spiraling because of… her?

 “maybe she’s just not used to people like you, ‘rinnie. i don’t know her like that but i heard she’s very lively and outgoing and basically your complete opposite.” danielle giggles softly. “and i thought i was bad.”

“plus, she thinks you’re like a ghost or something. she sees you everywhere, apparently,” minji adds with a laugh. “she’s kinda going insane.”

for a long moment, haerin just sits there, her fingers gliding along the condensation on her cup. the irritation that she pairs up with you in her head fizzles away just a little.

she hadn’t realized it got to you that much. she never realized how much you truly cared about how she was affected by your killer spike.

maybe, haerin thinks, maybe she’d been a little too quick to judge. 

maybe you’re not just loud and obnoxious. maybe you’re just trying to mend things.

“i guess i’ll be a little nicer. you can’t blame me though, that bruise was purple. i’m just glad it wasn’t that close to my eye.”

“i’ve had worse.” minji snickers, earning a glare from her.

—

today, you have your music history class. 1pm on tuesdays and thursdays, seventy-five minutes long, and one of two classes you have with kang haerin.

you also share the class with two of your teammates: kazuha, the most reliant, talented setter you know, and yunjin, whose killer vertical and presence at the net make her the best middle blocker in the region. 

while the two are a dream combination on the court, they’re a nightmare in any academic setting.

out of the three of you, you tend to be a little more reserved, which says a lot. your composure breaks without fail because they’re so loud and unfortunately so hilarious that it makes you cackle and completely lose any self-awareness in class, or anywhere in general.

yunjin’s nudging you as you three walk up the stairs, teasing you as soon as you reach the second level of the building.

“are you ready to be ignored by kang again?” she snickers, grinning from ear to ear. “i think she hates you even more after all of whatever you’re doing.”

“oh shut up.” you groan, shoving her with your shoulder. “look, i’m trying to be nice. do you know how fucking bad it is to get hit in the head with a volleyball? dude, that wasn’t even my best. it was practice. i feel so bad… one time i got hit by ryujin’s spike and—”

you shiver, remembering how puffy and purple your face had been after the game against your rivals. you looked like you’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.

and you can’t stop thinking about haerin after, pinching the bridge of her nose at the thought of her. the faint swelling after the incident, the way her concealer couldn’t quite cover the bruise. the fact that she hadn’t said a word about it, just sat there stiff and silent the next day in class.

“—i need to make it up to her.” you mumble under your breath, almost to yourself.

“wow. i’ve never seen you so sorry.” kazuha hums thoughtfully, sipping on whatever flavored latte she has in her hand. then, she nudges you, nodding her head toward the woman you injured two weeks ago. “but seriously, it’s impressive. i’ve never seen someone make being nice this tragic— hey, now’s your time to shine.”

you glance up.

it’s nine in the morning and you always pass haerin on your way to your first class of the day. today is no different. 

she’s put together, headphones in, and headed straight towards you. 

you feel a lump in your throat. every day, every time, you say hi. and every day, every time, she ignores you.

but you can’t help yourself. you swallow lightly, raising a hand and smiling at haerin. to your surprise—she looks up and meets your eyes, holding the contact for a second longer than usual, something almost unreadable shimmering along the surface before she shifts her gaze forward like it’s nothing, continuing down teh hall.

she acknowledged you. 

you turn to watch her walk away, stunned. “guys, maybe she doesn’t hate me.” you gasp under your breath.

“or maybe: you’re delusional.” yunjin clicks her tongue. “there was probably something on your face.”

“was there?” you say in a slight panic, pulling out your phone to check yourself out. there’s nothing but your plain old face, the face that haerin looked at for four whole seconds.

you can’t be delusional, there’s no way.

when you go to your next class, your spirits are still lifted. you step into music history half an hour later. kazuha and yunjin are already in their seats since you left them to go grab something from your car, and by the time you glance over they’re laughing at something on yunjin’s phone. you linger longer by the door, adjusting your hoodie.

out of habit, your eyes find haerin—third row from the front, fourth seat in—posture perfect with her laptop in front of her, earbuds out now.

something is different this time when you look at her, because she’s already looking at you.

you feel your breath catching. a flash of nervousness rushes through your body and you have no clue why. she blinks once, twice, then quickly turns her focus back to the screen, fingers typing calmly like nothing had happened.

still—you catch yourself smiling, chest a little lighter than it had been all week.

something is different. you can feel it.

and for the first time you can relax your shoulders, because it feels like you’re not just fighting this silent losing battle anymore.

—

you see her again thursday morning, but yunjin and kazuha aren’t there to witness your five seconds of embarassing yourself. 

today her hair is up in a bun and she’s wearing a plaid long-sleeve button paired with wide-leg sweatpants—she looks good, and now that the thought pops up… when hasn’t she?

“hey,” you blurt out before you can even think about what to say after. “good morning.” you add with a friendly smile.

she slows down, her brows twitching just barely as she looks at you like she’s thinking of what to say. maybe she’ll utter nothing and walk off. maybe she’ll reprimand you. to be honest, you don’t really care what happens next because it’s better than nothing.

“hi.” she says quietly, flatly. she breaks eye contact and walks right past again.

your smile widens, and each step down the hall feels brighter.

—

the week ends for most people with relief, but not for you. most friday’s are spent at the university’s court for practice, running a few warmup laps around the small court to get you going.  

everything continues on normally: your team pairs up to pepper for ten minutes before moving into spiking drills, setting, receiving, and perfecting minor details before moving on to scrimmages. it’s a routine you could never get tired of, one your body knows by heart. even when you’re sore and dreading practice, you love it.

what breaks the usual routine is a certain someone showing up twenty minutes before practice ends. 

haerin walks through the door with two of her friends. you recognize danielle and hanni since they’re a weekly feature on your teammate minji’s instagram stories. while everyone gets back into order, your eyes linger on haerin. what you don’t expect is for her to lock eyes with you for a split second, a moment that makes you stop in place, before she breaks the contact. 

you catch the group sitting in the bleachers, sparking a sudden urge to try a little harder.

the last twenty minutes of scrimmage consist of you doing very well. your turns are sharp and precise, your spikes heavy and quick—even some of your teammates are shocked at the sudden boost of energy. you’re playing almost as well as you would in a real game, and maybe it’s because of a special someone in the crowd. maybe it’s to distract her from the fact that one of your spikes left her in the nurse's office.

when practice ends, you run a few laps with your team before stretching together, though not without trying to sneak a peek at haerin to find that she’s already doing the same. you have to fight back a smile each time.

and after everyone finished changing, you caught up with minji, nudging her arm with your elbow.

“hey buddy,” you greet with a teasing tone. “nice blocks today. your vertical is getting better by the day!”

“thanks,” she laughs. “and… buddy? since when did start using that?”

“since now?”

“you sound ridiculous,” minji sighs. “so, what did you need from me?”

“i already told you! you’re doing better… and… well, i have a question.”

minji sighs once more.

“what’s with your little friends showing up?”

“no,” minji starts, raising her eyebrows. “what’s with haerin showing up.”

“no…”

“...yes,” she counters. 

you huff, rolling your eyes as you step back onto the court. minji’s friends are still sitting in the third row of the bleachers, laughing at something from what you can tell. and then minji looks at you from the side, raising her brows again and tilting her head, motioning for you to follow her.

you hesitate when minji starts heading over, but give in anyway.

“i’ll just say hi,” you mutter, more to yourself than minji. your teammate shrugs. 

when you arrive, they’re already headed down the bleachers—it’s a little terrifying. haerin is second after danielle, with hanni trailing behind. you watch as danielle leaps over to hug minji, then catches you while her arms are wrapped around your teammate.

“oh hey!” danielle beams into minji’s ear. “you must be y/n?”

“yeah, right on!” you respond with the same energy. 

then your eyes land on haerin, who’s fixing the collar of her t-shirt before meeting your gaze once again. the energy in your body dims down, your jaw tenses, and you feel like a movie character when the background blurs behind and it’s just them.

“hi haerin.” you greet warmly. 

she scans you again as if she’s figuring out whether or not you deserve a response. you gulp shallowly.

“hi.” she responds. her friends turn their heads toward her, clearly amused. then, her lips curl up just barely, almost imperceptibly. if you weren’t so hyperfocused on her you wouldn’t have caught it. “i’m surprised you didn’t hit anyone in the face.”

your heart beats against your chest like it’s trying to escape. 

minji bites back a laugh as you awkwardly chuckle before saying, “well, that’s progress.”

haerin’s brows raise just a bit as she adds, “your aim must’ve improved.”

minji doesn’t hold back her laugh this time, slapping your shoulder. something about haerin’s light teasing warms your chest, there’s a grin on your face as you respond, “just for you.” and maybe it was risky, but it makes haerin’s lips turn up just a little more. it feels like a standing ovation.

“well,” you begin, because your heart might explode right there and right now. “i was just catching up with minji. i have to uh, i have to… catch up with someone else. see you haerin— and um, you two as well— hanni, danielle.”

they all giggle before waving to you, though haerin only offers you a small smile that makes you want to celebrate.

—

haerin lifts up her head after sensing someone’s presence right by her side. she assumes it’s hanni, so she doesn’t bother to look right away. but when she tilts her head and glances over, it’s not who she expected.

“morning.” you greet, casual, but a faint smile is seen on your face.

you’re here early, haerin thinks. usually your friends would make it before you, loud and probably sharing their whole weekend with the class unknowingly. you’d show up just before class started and scan the room for haerin before making  your way over to the back to join the disturbance. not that she’s keeping track or anything though. that’d be ridiculous.

she blinks once. “morning.”

she turns to grab something from her bag, assuming you’ll leave sooner. but you don’t. instead, she feels your lingering presence beside her desk.

“so, how was your weekend?” you ask, equally awkward as sincere.

“fine.” she replies without looking up. 

you nod, waiting, but nothing conversational trickles in after.

your attempt at dissolving the tension is by clearing your throat, trying not to make it weird. “that’s good. did you do anything fun?”

she turns her head just barely, meeting you halfway—sort of. “why are you bothering me?” she asks, and the bluntness makes you stiffen a little.

your lips part but nothing comes out. you hesitate before answering, “i’m waiting for my friends.”

her brow lifts slightly as if she doesn’t believe you.

“you don’t believe me, do you?” you sigh. “this isn’t me doing charity work because i left a bruise on the side of your face that one time. that was an accident.” 

“right.” she says dryly, her lips twitching faintly.

“i swear!” you blurt out, flustered now. “i felt so bad—like, genuinely. i was gonna ask minji if i could venmo you for your medical bills or something—”

haerin cuts you off by letting out a quiet huff of laughter, looking at you properly for the first time. the corners of her lips lift and something in her eyes soften.

“has anyone ever told you how dramatic you are?” she questions, amused.

you fake a pout. “whatever.”

“you know,” she turns back to her desk, fighting a smile, “you’re not bothering me. i also feel bad that you look like a loser, all lonely and all. you can stay a bit until your friends come.”

“what did you say?”

“you heard me.” she says with a smile. 

and just like that, you’re pretty sure your morning’s already made.

—

you’re not really sure why you decided to put an effort into stepping over the line to make it on haerin’s good side. all the waving at her and making your presence known—maybe it could be labeled as bothering—had been spontaneous. 

there was no doubt that you were drawn to her for whatever reason. maybe it was because she caught your eye each time you would pass her near the beginning of the semester. maybe it was because you looked for the familiar face once you got the rhythm of when you’d briefly be within her presence. 

she was also on minji’s instagram occasionally, so you had a clue of who she was before attacking her face with a ball. and you’d stalked her instagram maybe once or twice on a random evening just because she was tagged in a story. she seemed nice and all, so why not talk to her more?

plus, she was nice to look at at. she had the kind of face that lingers in your mind after being around her, sometimes at night too, or even in random bursts throughout the day. she’s a new smile in your life that you start getting used to. 

haerin found you to be an addition to her routine, a very unexpected one. 

you’d appear at the end of the hall, sometimes with your friends—but recently it had been just you—and wave to her. when it was just you, you never failed to ask her how she was or how her day had been so far, everything friendly. and if she were being honest; she didn’t mind all this energy from you, if anything, she really liked it. 

it took a bit of time for haerin to reciprocate, maybe because of the grudge but also because it was difficult to talk to someone who used to be a world away from her. but here she is asking you if your practice is well, when your games were, and further inquiries that introduce you more as a person. she truly liked getting to know you, even if she pretended to be reserved and hesitant at times.

—

“hey,” you greet haerin as you walk up to her.

haerin isn’t sure when the bumping into you turned into willingly wanting to catch you in the morning or afternoon. this time, she’s waiting in the lobby instead of lingering in the usual hall, and she’s caught you by surprise with the slight change.

“hi.” she greets back.

you’re wearing a blue baseball cap with capital ‘a’ in white on it. your hair is pushed down by the cap just a bit, urging you to swipe it away to prevent it from blocking your view. a loose, white graphic tee also hangs over your figure nicely, complemented by a nice pair of jeans with a color that suits you well. you adjust your cap, finding the way it sits on your head a little off, and haerin wonders why she hadn’t realized how cute you’ve been until now.

“so, i was wondering.”

“oh no.” haerin sighs.

“hey!” you whine playfully. “well now i’m not going to say it.”

haerin looks you square in the eye, tilting her head down and raising her brows just barely.

“okay well if you look at me like that…” you surrender, fixing your hair just a bit. “since we have that mini exam, i was wondering if you wanted to go to the library to study… or, we could hit that cafe nearby.”

“there’s a lot of those.”

“well i know a nice one.”

“me too, y/n.”

“everytime i feel like we’re getting better at this, you suddenly find a way to hate me again.” you joke, but haerin lingers on whatever ‘this’ is. you continue, finishing your thoughts, “but yeah, after class, are you down?”

“sure, sure.” she agrees.

and then you smile, teeth peeking out just a bit. haerin feels a weird tingle run through her body.

—

the tingles get worse the next two weeks.

she spends more time with you, getting a little more personal and she likes it a little too much. you tell her the main reason why you switched majors. you were pressured into something law related, but after taking one elective for that path, you knew it wasn’t for you. and then you did that thing where you rambled on about something you liked a lot, in this case you had rambled about your love for playing the bass, which is the main reason you switched.

“you play bass?” haerin’s eyes widen just a bit from the initial shock. you are so much and so normal at the same time. “since when?”

“ummmm when i was like ten i think. i’ve always played and enjoyed it, even had a few gigs, but my parents wanted me to do law or something that would rack up money.” you shrug. “i got a nice scholarship because of volleyball and realized that i could just… do what i like. and what i like is that—more than anything, really—so....”

she turns to see you staring ahead. you’re both walking across campus to meet up with your friends at the food court, but haerin can’t think about any of that when the afternoon sun is kissing your features perfectly. it hits her that you’re really good-looking.

sure, she knows that’s also another key factor that plays into your reputation. people praise you for your skills, how lively you are, but also how nice on the eyes you are. haerin gets that now.

you catch her staring hard, a smile forming as you mumble, “what?”

haerin snaps back to reality, looking ahead again. “nothing. just thinking, sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you assure, running a hand through your hair. 

when you arrive at the building, ready to split ways to meet your friends, you tap haerin on the shoulder as she turns to leave. she turns, tilting her head and says, “what?”

“you know, if you ever want to see me play bass… you could just ask~”

“you’re full of it.”

you snicker, shaking your head. “well. if you ever stop accusing me of being narcissist, maybe i’ll invite you over to a gig.”

haerin narrows her eyes. “whatever. you should catch up with your friends. i’ll see you, bye y/n.”

“yeah, yeah. see you, haerin.” you smile at her and it feels like the ground beneath is stealing the energy from her knees, nearly knocking her off balance.

—

something about haerin has you rolling around in bed. 

before you dressed in your most comfortable pajamas, flat on your stomach with a pillow under your chin as you stare at your phone, you had spent the evening with minji and her friends—haerin being one of them. 

you set your phone face down and rub your face in your hands. 

it was a spontaneous outing, and you had nothing better to do, so why not tag along with minji? it wasn’t anything crazy, just casual and friendly. all of you strolled along the boardwalk not too far from downtown and playing stupid carnival games. it was fun, especially when hanni and minji started arguing over who would win the most tickets before the sun would set.

what was the most jarring was haerin. nothing in particular, just everything about her that night.

she showed up in a baby tee, beige cargos, and that face of hers. there was something about her that night, or maybe there had always been something about her that you never fully realized until the glow of a building hit her features perfectly. you two were the first to meet up—coincidentally— and without the rest of the group it felt like all the confidence had slipped away from you.

it took a second to greet her, your eyes in awe from how pretty she looked with the slight change in her makeup, or maybe the smile formed on her lips as her eyes landed on you.

you roll over to lay on your back, face still in your hands.

 your cheeks feel significantly warmer as you recall haerin lingering by your side the whole night. her hand had brushed yours multiple times—you remembered each and every time out of fifteen—and she was just so different, charming even, with her friends around. it was a slightly different side of her, one that had your heart beating slightly faster the whole night. 

you can’t stop thinking about the moment she fixed the cap on your head, the hair on your face, and her fingers brushing against your face before telling you how stupid you looked with the loveliest grin. it made your stomach churn. 

the thought of her couldn’t—cant leave your head, even as you take your hands off your face to pinch the bridge of your nose and shut your eyes tightly. 

“what is wrong with me…” you mumble, sighing.

you pick up your phone again, opening on instagram and tapping through stories until minji’s suddenly pops up. your brows furrow slightly as you scan it, eyes lingering on the picture of hanni and haerin, but mainly haerin in that frame. 

she looks good. you can’t get over it. and her user is tagged as well, so you click on it out of curiosity and infatuation.

she has two posts, much less than most people you know. the first one has four slides and a cat emoji as the caption. the first picture is a simple selfie of her with a very neutral expression, one which you stare at for a little too long. the next one is a similar selfie, though she’s smiling instead and you spend more time on that one. the last picture is a cute cat on the street, it makes you smile.

when you catch yourself smiling, you throw your phone across the bed, groaning into your hands.

—

haerin shows up to your next practice without warning you, but to be fair, neither of you had the chance (or guts, really) to ask for each others numbers. the only thing you had was the fact that you were now mutuals on instagram and the fear that held you back from texting her a simple “hi.”

 she’s in the bleachers reading a book—reading while you’re practicing. it makes you laugh more than it offends you, but there’s no reason to be offended anyway. haerin is just being haerin.

you try a little harder just in case she decides to steal a peek at you. today is mainly you serving and spiking up a ton while the rest of the team works to receive it, but when it comes to scrimmaging, you do your best—almost. 

practice ends and instead of heading to the locker room with your team, you run up to haerin, who’s head perks up when she catches the blur of your figure in her vision.

“did you miss me so much that you couldn’t help but stop by and watch?”

haerin scoffs. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“tch, whatever.” you respond.

before she spills the reason she’s there, her gaze shifts to the sweat glistening on your neck, then down to your collarbone, your shoulders, and arms. it’s oddly alluring, but she pushes it down by gulping and meeting your eyes again, trying to ignore the stupid smirk on your lips that tugs at her heartstrings. 

“you put your laptop charger in the wrong bag. i figured you’d be here, so—” she pulls out your macbook charger and hands it to you. “—here.”

“haerin,” you mutter, grabbing the charger. then, you put your other hand out and say, “give me your phone.”

“what?”

“just do it.” you urge, and she surprisingly does.

haerin watches you type in something, then hears the phone vibrate. “my number.” you say it like it’s obvious. “so you don’t have to spend your time reading while the sound of our yelling and the volleyballs distract you.”

“it wasn’t distracting.”

“then why’d you come?”

“to see you.”

your face heats up immediately. 

“whatever. are you doing anything after this?” you ask with a twinge of nervousness in your tone. your thumb presses down on the charger in your hand, an attempt to cool your nerves. “lets hangout?”

“look who’s the one missing me now.”

“oh whatever. do you want to, or no?”

haerin rolls her eyes. “okay, but wash up. you’re sweaty and gross,” she says, her look falling to your bicep as it flexes while you squeeze your charger.

—

“so, you and y/n?” minji asks one afternoon, lazily sitting on the couch.

haerin looks up from her laptop, raising a brow. “what?”

“what’s with you two? are you guys dating?”

“what?” haerin repeats, though much more baffled than before. “where did you even get that idea?”

dating? that’s ridiculous. two people can spend more time together, become friends and whatnot. that’s not dating. and plus, you’re still a world apart. if you’re not around her you’re in your bubble above her, floating around far out of her reach. you guys are nothing more than good friends. you’re nothing more than her good friend.

“y/n talks about you a lot.” minji shrugs, but the flicker of mischief in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “a lot.”

“because we’re friends.”

“y/n and yunjin are best friends, but i haven’t heard much about yunjin in a while.”

haerin bites back immediately. “because you know her as well, you guys are teammates.”

“i know you too, haerin. it’s the same.”

minji’s just being ridiculous. there’s no way she’s implying that you have a thing for her. there’s a ton of girls lined up for you and for you to be fixated on her of all people would be ridiculous.

“there’s a lot of people who are into her, but it seems she’s only into you.”

“i—” haerin doesn’t know what to say, she bites her lip instead.

could you really be into her? she thinks hard about it. you’re so oblivious and idiotic, it would be much more blatant if you were actually into her.

“maybe you should pay more attention to her, because she pays a lot of attention to you, haerin.” minji says, followed by a smirk.

haerin groans quietly, sinking in her spot.

“you’re being stupid.”

minji shakes her head. “i think you’re trying to deny what i’m trying to say because you’re also into her—whether you’re going to accept that or not.”

—

minji’s accusation is proven right when it hits her—or rather you, quite literally—not too soon after the night on the couch.

haerin agrees to go to one of your games, but she doesn’t admit it’s because of you. she purposely meets up with minji first, pretending she isn’t eager to see your stupid face. when you run up to her in your uniform, the short sleeves hugging your arms just right, she has to fight back a huge smile. 

you raise your brows, giving her a teasing little smirk. “look who decided to show up.”

“you love to flatter yourself.”

“and you.” it’s a risky comment coming from you, especially when it’s paired with a wink. your teeth catch your lower lip like you regret it—maybe it was too risky. but haerin finds herself scoffing to distract you from the blush spreading across her face.

haerin gets some downtime to meet up with hanni, danielle, and eunchae in the stands. and then the game starts before she process what’s going on.

your team shows up all smiley in their jerseys, the crowd cheering. haerin isn’t on the loud side, so she claps for your team—a sharp contrast to hanni and danielle who are screaming at the top of their lungs. 

somehow, you catch her in the crowd, winking at her before slapping yunjin on the back to boost her spirits. haerin shakes her head, smiling as she does so.

the game starts off well for your team. yoon’s serves throw off the team in the beginning, giving your team a bit of a headstart before they grow accustomed to her. kazuha’s setting, paired with how quick and determined you are on the court, score two-thirds of the points in the first set.

the second set is rougher, with the other team winning by a few points. haerin can see the frustration in your face from where she’s at. the way you tighten your jaw after each slip up and how minji slaps your shoulder to keep you from losing your cool. she’s never seen you so serious, not even during practice. the way you hold yourself on the court is tremendously different from how unserious and carefree in class or alone with her. it’s admirable—also really attractive

the game goes on. you play well. really well.

the third set has you pumping your fist with each successful spike. haerin’s never been into volleyball like that—eunchae was the one who had to explain all the rules while the game was running—but she can tell that you’re incredible just from the way you leap, score, and celebrate.

everyone cools off a bit before the fourth set, determining if you’ll have to play another rigorous round or if you’re ready to celebrate a win against your rivals. 

it begins well, with one great serve from lily that scores the first point. yunjin’s quick to block a spike from the other side, and then kazuha’s dump scores another point for your own team, earning a slap on the back from you that’s too hard for her liking. she pushes your head roughly with a smile on her face.

for a while, the game goes smoothly—until it doesn’t.

your rivals’ star ace spike was faster than you could react, the ball hitting your temple unexpectedly with a force matching your own spikes. the sharp sound catches everyone off guard, and it’s followed by a few gasps, then cheers as the ball lands on the ground after your team loses their focus to look at you with concern.

it hurts, but you shake it off, signaling that you’re fine with a toothy smile and a thumbs-up.

haerin’s sitting up straigher in the stands now, worry etched into the way her eyebrows furrow. danielle glances at her, brows raised, but haerin says nothing. she doesn’t blink once until the game continues on.

everyone’s on the edge of their seats nearing the end of the game—your team is a point away from winning. the other team serves, your team does their best to keep them from scoring, then the ball is on the other side for them to deal with it.

and then, unbelievably, it happens again—this time way worse. 

their outside hitter jumps, swings, and the ball hits you directly in the face clean, and blood shoots out from your nose like something out of a cartoon. the crowd gasps, and haerin flinches as if it hit her too.

you recover quick, blinking hard, and yell at yunjin. she runs after the ball, keeps it in the air, and the game continues. your team scrambles, recovers, and you manage to run up, leap, and score a winning point that echoes in the court.

the gym erupts.

you exhale in relief, losing strength in your legs and laying on the ground with your eyes on the ceiling. blood trickles down your lip, mixing with sweat, and dripping onto the court where you lie down. it’s kind of gross, but you can’t really bother to care because you’ve won. 

the athletic trainer rushes over and makes you sit on the sideline, ice pressed to your face, tissues jammed up your nose almost comically. your team scrambles around you, and you brush them off, telling them you’re fine.

as soon as you’re left alone, haerin doesn’t think—she just moves. she scoots past legs and bags and down the bleachers, walking fast toward where you are.

you look up when she approaches, and all she can think of is how completely stupid you look. stupid and cute.

something sharp and certain twists in her chest.

she likes you.

not in a maybe, possibly way. in a real way. in a “you just bled all over your team’s side of the court, it’s on your jersey, and you’re still smiling at me like that” kind of way.

“i’m fine,” you say, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be grinning with blood drying under your nose.

she sits down next to you, looking at you with worry in her eyes. “you look like an idiot.”

“an idiot who scored the winning assist~” you hum happily, then pause. “maybe this is payback for the time i hit you.”

she narrows her eyes and shoves your shoulder—not hard, but enough to make you laugh.

“i hate you. i still have a grudge because of that but,” she smiles, then continues, “that’s way too harsh for payback.”

you laugh—sort of, through the tissue—and it’s not even that funny, but she laughs too. 

and for a second, the sounds around you fade. the gym, the team, the chaos. it all blurs. everything clicks into place like it’s always been leading to this.

it scares you both simultaneously—how real it feels, how quick it settles in your chests—but it also feels safe. god it feels warm. like this was supposed to happen eventually.

you like her. she likes you. it hits you both at the same time—the third time something has hit you today, but this one hits way harder.

—

when haerin sees you next, your face is still swollen from the game a few days prior.

you’ve shown up to class without bothering to cover up the giant purple mark around your eye and another red mark on your nose bridge. but still, like always, you greet haerin with a smile before heading to your friends, who poke at your face on purpose and earn a pained groan.

“damn, ryujin got you good… it’s still there!” kazuha snickers poking you again. “jesus christ, it looks like you got punched.”

you shove her off, scoffing. “i’ll give you a similar mark if you keep it up.” 

“you better pray that the mark fades into something better, friday we’ve got that gig.” yunjin reminds you.

a lightbulb appears above your head. you’ve totally forgotten about the gig you landed—with the help of yunjin—after your little triumph on the court from a few days ago. your rub your face in your hands a little too hard and it hurts, making kazuha chuckle. 

yunjin arranged a little gig for you and two other students to play at a lively restaurant downtown. you’ve been a few times, and each time there’s been musicians brightening the atmosphere while bringing people together. out of all the places, this is the one you’ve been wanting to play at the longest. how could you forget?

it’s been a while since you’ve had a gig, if you’re not counting late-night bedroom sessions with friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends in someone's dorm or rooftop. the though of performing in such a long time, after being occupied with volleyball, makes you a little nervous.

“fuck,” you mutter. “i completely brushed that off.”

“well, you better be ready by then. we’ve got to practice for that after practice practice.” 

you nod, sighing at the slight sting of your injury. your eyes land on haerin, who’s writing something down on a sticky note and placing it in her notebook. she turns to say something to hanni and your eyes linger on the outline of her side profile.

a thought pops up in your head, one that makes you smile ever so slightly.

—

“so i was thinking,” you start, watching haerin turn to look at you with an “oh god,” expression plastered on her face.

“that’s not good.”

“would you not.” you sigh. “just let me finish.”

you two have been studying european music history together on the second floor of your campus’ most popular cafe. chatter is spilling out from every table, some mixed with the sound of writing or a pen tapping against the table, which does a decent job of making the process of studying your least favorite era less dreadful.

haerin has on a slight blush and lip balm that tints her lips, a no-makeup kind of look that prompts you to steal glances every few minutes or so. you can’t not glance at her, not when her hair is up in a high bun, some shorter hairs falling over her face shifting around just a bit everytime she laughs at your stupid jokes or looks up to think about something. 

“okay, fine.” haerin giggles softly.

“as i was saying,” you continue, but haerin is momentarily distracted.

the oversized t-shirt’s collar is loose enough to reveal a fraction of your collarbones. it drapes over you lazily, complimenting the slight tousled look of your hair. plus, you just look cute in general that it had made it really difficult to study with full concentration. the swelling had gone down and the bruise faded ever so slightly, but there’s a natural flush on your cheeks that lingers from the inflammation that haerin can’t help but find adorable. she looks down at the table, biting down on her back teeth and pursing her lips to give you her full attention.

“i have this… thing on sunday. it’s nothing big, kinda…” you say a little quiter than before. haerin’s distracted again, but just a little. your mannerisms are caught by her eye immediately; the way your voice simmers down to something slightly vulnerable when you’re serious, how you bite your lip in between sentences, and the way your eyes dart around are enough to tell her that it’s actually ‘something big.’

“down at that restaurant near the waterfront, the one with the good burgers and italian food—i have a um… a gig.” you explain, eyes meeting haerin’s again to search for something. “and you know, i’m gonna play bass, and yunjin’s gonna be there too with some others. we’re just gonna have fun, have a good time, a good night and stuff. i was um, i was wondering if you wanted to come.”

before haerin can respond, you clear your throat and clarify, “actually, i’m not really asking. i want you to come.” 

haerin is speechless for a moment, responding with only a blush dimmed by the ambience of the cafe and a smile.

“i’d like that.”

“really?” your posture fixes just a bit from sheer shock. “great. you can bring a friend of course! i don’t care, but i’d… i’d like to see you there. i’d like to spend time with you after my little thing too.”

she laughs and her head tilts a bit, eyes softening as she looks at you with those dumb, adorable blue light glasses slipping down near the tip of your nose. her hand moves over to push them back up, making you smile like a child.

haerin moves her hand back to her laptop, eyelashes fluttering as she blinks and says, “i’m looking forward to it.”

—

panic crawls up haerin’s spine before she can stop it.

she was supposed to have everything under control—finish her assignment early, take her time getting ready, maybe even have some downtime before heading out. but the essay took longer than expected because she lost half of her sources somehow, and now she’s scrambling. she types at a speed that blurs her vision and biting the inside of her lip with each typo just to submit with barely thirty minutes left to get ready to see you. 

haerin’s usually composed, easy-going, and on top of things. but now there’s a small pile of clothes tossed on the bed, her phone buzzing with the time, and her thoughts spinning faster than she can catch them. the bus stop is five minutes away, which means she has less time than she thought. her fingers have trouble zipping up her bag.

she ends up in something simple, making her second guess (but there’s no time for that, really). her hair is braided in two, something simple and hopefully cute enough for you. the braids fall neatly over her shoulders, parted slightly off-center. her makeup is light to match the striped, long-sleeve top she has on, paired with comfy jeans. it’s casual, but hopefully enough to make a statement, or get you to notice her, or maybe—

she closes her eyes, thinking of how ridiculous it is to be thinking so hard about her impression on you. she wants to look nice—wants you to think she looks nice. it’s stupid. she knows it’s stupid. and it’s conflicting in the sense that she’s standing in the mirror trying to impress someone who might not think twice about what she’s wearing. but she can’t help it.

now she’s tying her sneakers and thinking about how you’ll see her when she walks in. if you’ll glance at her for a beat longer than usual. if you’ll say anything. and that thought alone makes her blush so hard she has to put a hand over her face, thinking, what’s gotten into me?

—

haerin gets there a little late—heart banging against her chest from the walk and nerves—but it’s fine. the outdoor area is dim from the setting sun, the lights are warm and hazy, and you’re just about to start. the crowd isn’t crazy huge, but only two tables aren’t filled with a group of friends or couple. she spots a table for two, walking over and passing people talking over drinks, leaning into each other, swaying slightly even before the music begins.

you’re on stage, tuning your bass, laughing at something yunjin says into the mic. haerin spots you immediately, and before she can duck or think twice, your eyes catch hers through the crowd.

the moment is like a movie. everything slows down and it’s just you. your face lighting up—small, just a grin—but she feels it right in her chest. you look thrilled. like her showing up meant the world. like she’s not just another person in that room looking for a nice friday night. like she’s there for you and you only and the thought of it makes you soar.

she finds a spot somewhere off to the side, still in your line of sight. the music starts. something low and smooth and groovy—your fingers working the bass like it’s second nature. haerin’s never really paid attention to bassists before. but with you, it’s impossible not to. 

she’s suddenly too aware of every single thing you do. everytime your fingers shift to another note, the way your eyes flicker over her a little too often—none of it goes unnoticed.

yunjin stands beside you, her energy laidback, teasing. she waits for you to finish the opening chords, then strums into the rhythm, syncing naturally with the beat. you move with the rhythm, eyes mostly on your bandmates but still drifting back to haerin again and again like you can’t help it. 

the chorus creeps in, you step up next to yunjin, nodding at her like there’s a silent understanding of what’s up next. the crowd sways with you two, reeled in by your energy and playfulness. you alternate the lyrics with yunjin; she sings the first part of the chorus, and you sing the second part. 

“cause basically i—” yunjin starts, before passing it to you, “i just wanna ride with you”

your voice slides into the space, low and clear, easy but intimate.

“i gotta getcha—’cause i just wanna vibe with you”

yunjin keeps it light, laughing a little as you bump her shoulder during her next line, but when you return to your part, your gaze locks in on haerin. 

“‘cause i just gotta know if you want me too,” you sing. your voice is like silk, the tone is almost inviting, “dontcha want me?”

the lyrics feel different—like they mean something deeper and you’re not just singing it to entertain the crowd, like you really mean what you’re singing and it’s not just the song.

haerin’s heart races in her chest. she feels it even in her neck, in her fingertips, and the thrill of it makes it impossible to look away. the way your voice fills the room, rich and warm, and she’s hanging on every word. you sing with such ease, so naturally, as though this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. and with every chorus that yunjin flows into, you complement her voice without failing to make eye contact with haerin as you dance around with yunjin. 

dontcha, 

dontcha, 

dontcha, 

dontcha want me?

the outro loops, and she’s completely under whatever your voice has cast. her head bobs along, a faint smile on her lips, not even trying to hide how enamored she is. 

as the song ends, you pause for a moment, fingers still resting on the bass strings, and meet her gaze. you have the same look from before. a quiet understanding. your smile isn’t wide now, but it’s full of something softer, steadier. like you’re both aware of the new realization that hangs in the air. 

haerin rises with the rest of the crowd, clapping, her expression a little different now—slightly flushed, eyes bright. she makes her way to you once the applause dies down and people begin settling back into their seats after everyone on stage says their final words of appreciation and gratitude. 

it’s just you and her again. 

you’re both quiet. not because you want to be, but because haerin opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. and on your end, it feels like your brain short-circuits the second you see her up close. 

she’s standing there with her hands fidgeting around with the end of her top, her cheeks are pink from the slight chill of the evening or maybe from the song—maybe both. her hair catches the light in soft waves, and her eyes, even as she glances down, make you want to collapse then and there. she looks up again with those gorgeous brown eyes you could probably stare at for the entirety of a lecture and longer and your brain is fuzzy and twisted and tangled. 

the golden light from the streetlamp pools down against a window and it somehow reflects perfectly to make her face glow more than before. everything about her feels surreal, a little too good to be true.

and before you can even process anything other than the slight tilt of her head, you say it.

“wow.” 

your voice is quiet, breathy, like you’ve just found a new wonder of the world. 

she glances up at you, lips parted like she was about to speak, but your next words beat her to it.

“you look beautiful.” and it’s not smooth, or practiced. it falls out of your mouth clumsy and too honest. but the second it slips out, you mean it more than anything you’ve ever said.

her eyes go wide for a second, and then she laughs—soft and flustered and caught off guard. her eyes dart away like they’re too shy to hold yours anymore. she shifts on her feet, head ducking slightly, biting the inside of her lip just barely. 

“you’re just saying that,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but warm, still not quite looking at you. 

“no,” you say, immediate, because it’s true and you need her to know it. “i mean it.”

she laughs again—maybe to calm her stuttering heart, or because she is way to flustered to act normal at all—and smiles into the sidewalk like it’s the only way she can keep from blowing up then and there.

(something like that)

you watch her closely, your heart racing, but not from nerves anymore. from something else. something lighter. better. 

“i um, i—” you pinch the bridge of your nose, cringing at your stutter. haerin laughs, and you do too before continuing. “thank you for coming. i was really looking forward to see you.”

“you were?”

“of course i was, idiot.” you grin. “have you eaten yet?”

haerin thinks to herself briefly. she had crammed before meeting with you, and if she tried to take even a bite out of anything she probably wouldn’t have been able to swallow it just from the overwhelming rush of nervousness that washed over her just from thinking about you and seeing you.

“no. i didn’t get the chance.”

“let me treat you then! the burgers here are great. lets grab two and share the fries,” you suggest, putting your hand on your stomach. “and i’m really hungry after all of that.”

haerin rolls her eyes, then chuckles. “of course you are. let’s go eat, y/n.”

—

after dinner, and saying all your goodbyes to everyone who showed up, you end up walking along the waterfront right outside the restaurant.

(yunjin makes sure to wiggle her brows at you two, and tease you until you’re blushing even harder than before.)

the night is quiet except for the sound of water lapping gently against the edge of the dock and the occasional breeze. the street lamps light up your path, and your steps slow naturally, like neither of you are in a rush to go home.

you nudge her arm gently as you walk. “you know, i always wanted to get to know you better.”

she glances over, rasing an eyebrow. “since when?”

“since that day i hit you in the head.” you laugh a little, eyes on the water now.

she groans. “seriously?” and you grin.

���i felt so bad—you were so pissed,” you say fondly. “i did everything i could to warm up to you because i was so, so sorry. every time we passed each other, you’d act like i didn’t exist or give me that look… my friends poked at me for it but i was kind of fascinated.”

haerin’s already laughing now, shaking her head. “you’re so weird.”

“probably.” you admit with a chuckle. “but i liked finally getting through your skin, getting to know you… you just— you stood out. i don’t think i’ve ever met anyone like you. and i didn’t stick around because i felt bad for giving you a giant bruise. i just thought you were interesting, and smart, and pretty. and when you say you hate me and call me an idiot it only makes me want to stick around and bother you more.”

your voice dies down a bit. haerin notices the shift in your demeanor—something shy, nervous, and adorable.

“i thought you were so odd for wanting to stick around,” she finally says, glancing at you with that same familiar side-eye, but softer this time. “and i didn’t like you before because we were in two different worlds and… your friends were so loud.” she jokes.

you pretend to clutch your chest, gasping. “wow, i’m hurt. you hated me without knowing me?”

“i didn’t hate you!” she defends, pushing you softly.

she laughs again and you both stop walking, pausing near the edge of the water. she’s still smiling when she looks at you, but her voice is smaller when she speaks again.

“i’ve really grown to admire you,” she says quietly. “and i’m glad we’re here, and you invited me to your little gig and i finally got to see you play bass and you…”

“i’m glad we’re friends—kind of,” you say softly, quietly. she looks up at you with a confused expression, to which you respond by looking away, smiling at the water in front of you. “i’m saying ‘kind of because’… i’ve kinda had a thing for you for a while and i’m really glad you came and i wanted to ask you out tonight but god it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest and—”

you inhale, then look her in the eyes before exhaling your confession, “haerin. i really, really like you.”

she doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you, her eyes darting across your face like she’s searching for something in the sparkle on the surface of your eyes. 

then, slowly, she leans in and kisses your cheek. it’s quick, barely there, but you heat up almost immediately. your chest warms, and then your face, and then your whole body.

you blink. your cheeks are flushed like crazy—they have to be—and haerin pulls back, clearly flustered now too. she bites back a smile.

“i really like you too,” she mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “you’re so cute. i hate it.”

you grin. “sorry.” 

“don’t be. i like it.” she responds, earning a playful scoff from you.

you can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. neither can she.

—

your first official date with haerin is downtown, but it’s nothing too far from a usual hangout other than the fact that both of you are crazy aware of the mutual feelings, mutual everything. haerin smiles at you the whole time and you want to capture the moment and hang it on your wall.

the second official date is nothing crazy, but it’s really domestic for a second date. 

you invite her over to your place since yunjin’s out for the weekend helping her mom with something you completely forgot about. haerin shows up in a simple sweater and shorts and the sight of her alone earns a bunch of kisses pressed all over her face. she pretends to be annoyed, pushing you off and groaning playfully, but when you’re settled, she presses a soft kiss on your cheek and calls you cute. you nearly combust.

for a second date, it’s awfully intimate. intimate in the way that you were supposed to be watching a movie together, but a gust of drowsiness decided to sweep by. it hits you first, starting off with a small yawn that leaves your lips, and then your head falls to haerin’s chest, the thump of her heart lulling you to sleep. she’s flustered beyond measure at how calm and settled you look, snapping a picture before shutting your laptop and pulling your blanket over both of you. she moves just a bit so you can both lie comfortably instead of at a questionable angle, and the last of your energy takes over then, your arm wrapping around her.

the second date ends with you waking up to a dead-asleep haerin sprawled out on top of you. the soft breaths from her lips urge you to reach out your hand, even while half asleep, and brush the hair out her face, smiling before you succumb to sleepiness again.

—

an incident familiar to your first mishap with haerin occurs before you even get to your third date. 

it’s just like before–same gym, same rush of adrenaline as you play through another long rally during practice. the ball sails high over the net, your timing feels perfect, and without thinking, you leap up and spike it hard.

the ball’s trajectory decides to swerve and smack right into someone’s head.

you freeze.

it takes less than a second to realize it’s haerin.

“oh my god—” you’re already sprinting across the court before she can even recover from the hit, cradling her head with one hand while waving off the coach with the other. “are you okay? are you—can you see me well? how is your vision? do you feel dizzy?”

“i’m fine,” she says, blinking a few times. “it just scared me—”

“i just hit your head with a nasty spike, do not lie to me. i’m not taking any chances. come on.” you gently take her wrist, ignoring the fact that practice hasn’t ended yet as you pull her toward the exit. 

she doesn’t resist. she just walks beside you with that unreadable expression she always has on her face—though it’s slightly more readable when she’s around you and you take much pride in that—though you don’t catch the way she keeps stealing glances at you.

you head over toward the nurse’s offices, nearly barging into the hallway, but once you’re alone and the noise of the gym fades behind you, you stop and turn to her. 

“let me see,” you mutter.

she opens her mouth to assure you that she’s perfectly fine even though a stinging sensation lingers, but you’re already cupping her face in both hands.

your thumbs press softly against her cheeks, fingers curled just under her jaw, tilting her head from one side to the other. “you’re not dizzy? does your head hurt? is your vision—”

“i’m fine,” she repeats, but her voice is quieter now, and her eyes keep flicking between yours and your lips.

the proximity decreases the more you frown. concern is etched on your features as you inspect her like she’s made of glass. “i swear, i didn’t mean to—the ball just, i thought yunjin would’ve got it but—ugh, you could’ve been really hurt if it were a direct spike. your cheek is already deepening in color, your face—”

and that’s when she kisses you.

a quick, soft press of her lips to yours. barely there. just enough to shut you up.

you blink. 

she pulls back immediately and fills the silence, her voice small. “you worry too much.”

your hands are still on her face, and now they tighten slightly. and before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her again. this time it’s slower, softer, and certain. 

she makes a small noise of shock against your mouth, but melts into it a second later. her whole body relaxes completely. 

when you finally pull back you’re blushing like crazy. her eyes are widened and her smile grows the longer you look at her.

“... are you sure you’re okay?” you murmur, your thumb brushing her cheek. 

“i am, stop worrying so much.” she scolds, then giggles softly. “you still hit me in the head me in the head though—again.”

“sorry.” you sigh. “guess we’ve come full circle now.”

“i guess so, loser.” she laughs, then moves over to peck your lips again.

[neocitylights]

SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door. 

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now. 

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is. 

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along. 

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you. 

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too. 

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward. 

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience. 

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor. 

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes. 

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space. 

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings. 

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words. 

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first. 

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off. 

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school. 

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded. 

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause. 

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames. 

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you. 

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write. 

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires. 

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases. 

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck. 

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face. 

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend. 

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers. 

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it. 

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine. 

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…” 

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods. 

“Maybe it’s better that way.” 

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar. 

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked. 

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there. 

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t. 

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks. 

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name. 

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens. 

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while. 

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times. 

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up. 

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face. 

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance. 

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it. 

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern. 

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days. 

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor. 

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.” 

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.” 

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.” 

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued. 

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.” 

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.” 

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.” 

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.” 

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject. 

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?” 

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.” 

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry. 

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to. 

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice. 

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.” 

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal. 

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days. 

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project. 

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time. 

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first. 

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways. 

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction. 

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.  

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction. 

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk. 

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.” 

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.” 

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing. 

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist. 

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often. 

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.” 

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes. 

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way. 

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day. 

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts. 

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity. 

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces. 

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming. 

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now. 

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter. 

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days. 

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten. 

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you. 

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link. 

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it. 

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence. 

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours. 

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough. 

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own. 

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around. 

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?” 

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer. 

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?” 

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer. 

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks. 

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!” 

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.”

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

✦ EXTRA: LOVERS ROCK

. ˚｡ MASTERLIST . ˚｡

[blackhairandbangs]

So You Admit It

Kim Seungmin x Reader

info/masterlist

genre: Angst, but pure cat and mouse flirting

summary: college!seungmin has been getting under your skin since day one, but you soon find out it's for a good reason

warnings: seungmin is actually a dick, arguing, lots of flirting!! he is a FLIRT in this, little makeout at the end, suggestive words, little bit of cursing

word count: 2.1K

You and your good friend, Jeongin were talking in the back corner of your lecture hall right before class began. He had the class right before, so it became a tradition for him to wait for you and catch up during the in-between of your two classes. The two of you exchanged a laugh as Jeongin showed you a funny picture he had taken on his phone earlier in the day. Right as your professor walked in, Jeongin began to stand up from his seat, allowing you to focus on the beginning of class.

"Hey, I'll see you later, okay? Have a good class!" he waved, walking out the back door, exchanging a glance with the boy entering at the same time, taking the seat next to you he was once sitting in.

Kim Seungmin now occupies the seat once held by your friend, slowly becoming a part of your daily routine. Jeongin gets up before class begins, and Seungmin walks in just about a minute late to take the empty seat.

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking to that guy?" he scoffs, not yet making eye contact as he takes out his laptop to start his notes.

You cross your arms, eyeing him down slightly, "and why should I be listening to you?"

Seungmin smirks, his gaze flickering to your arms before meeting your eyes, "Because I can make your life a living hell if I really wanted to…" he trails off, allowing you to look away and ignore his comment, trying to focus on whatever today's lecture was about. You don't feel his gaze leave your face, so you look back up, waiting for him to say something.

"Besides, don't you enjoy my company more?" he asks, a grin sneaking up on his lips.

"No, I'm not quite sure I do," You turn away from him once more to face the front of the lecture hall, "So can you please stop bothering me so I don't waste my tuition here?"

Seungmin smirked, leaning close to your ear to make sure you could hear him.

"I'm sure we could could make a deal here. How about you focus on your studies today, and maybe later I could even help you out…when we're alone…" he allows his sentence to linger, his hot breath just behind your ear.

"I don't need any tutoring, thank you," you reply to him coldly, knowing tutoring could not have been what he was referring to.

"You're right," he huffed, leaning back in his chair, "Good thing I meant something else entirely." A flush falls on your cheeks. This guy has been bothering you for weeks, but not once has he made a comment like this.

You let out a huff of air, "Maybe if you stop acting like a dick all the time, we could talk about it." You continue looking at the lesson, twirling your pen in between your fingers as a distraction from the boy next to you.

Seungmin gives a small laugh to your comment.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm not always a dick, you know?" He flashed a disarming smile at you. The kind that would make other girls fall to their knees for him, "I promise I can be quite charming when I want to be."

You allow yourself to look at him after his last comment, a small laugh escaping your lips.

"Now I'm sure this may work on other girls, but I know who you are, Kim Seungmin." Your words spat at him with disgust.

"Oh, really? And who am I, according to you? You seem to know quite a bit about me," He spoke, eyebrows raising in amusement. He had the feeling he had finally got to you.

"Hmm, let's see," you hum, using your hand to create a list, "One, you're self-centered. Two, you're mean. Three, you go through girls like it's a game to you…Should I keep going?" His face goes dark hearing the words that just left your mouth. As the class finally draws a close, you pack up your books and pens. You get up from your seat as the professor begins to make his exit and you head for the back door, leaving a glare at the boy still sitting in the seat next to where you just were.

The next evening, you found yourself sitting in your favorite corner of the library, books spread out on the table in front of you and headphones over your head. The whole library was pretty empty due to it being late on a Friday night. You tended to use this time for studying as the library didn't feel as crowded as normal with students rifling through the shelves, struggling to finish their term papers on time. Your mind was so focused on the work you were completing you didn't even hear the voice approaching behind you.

Ah, the perfect study spot, right?" Seungmin asked, making you jump slightly. He walks around to the other side of the table, pulling out the chair to have a seat across from you.

"Sure, why don't you come join me," you groan sarcastically, gesturing to the already occupied seat.

The boy leaned back in his chair, "Oh come on now, I know you would love for me to join you." His gaze flickered between the books he had brought with him and you. A playful grin yet to leave his lips.

You slam your textbook shut in frustration. This was supposed to be your quiet time. An escape from the disruptions and loud volume the rest of campus tended to carry.

"Now when have I ever possibly given you that idea?" You huffed, not looking up from the table.

God, you just wished he would leave you alone. His intentions were never clear. You had a hard time reading Seungmin all semester. Was he looking for another victim of his one-night stands? Did he want you to fall in love with him and write his essays?

"You didn't have to say anything," Seungmin smirked, "I could tell from the way your heart skipped a beat when I walked in." He laughed lightly, enjoying the little game of back-and-forth you two were having.

You roll your eyes at his comment, unable to really look him in the face.

"Or, that could've been the fear of you sneaking up behind me in an empty library!" you say, still not giving him the attention he desired. Seungmin sat up in his chair, resting his elbows on the table to lean closer to you.

"Oh come on," he started, giving you a smile. "You know you love it when I'm around! I mean all you do is talk to me." His voice was soft but carried an underlying tone of need. You look up at him for the first time in minutes, eyeing his lips. A flush falls slightly over your cheeks as his words tear into you.

"Sure, I'll let you believe that," you speak, looking away slightly as to not show him the effect his words were starting to have on you. Seungmin gets up to walk over to your seat on the other side of the table.

"Fine," he huffed allowing himself to lean down behind you, his mouth lingering close to your ear. "I'll just have to find a way to prove it to you." His hot breath sent a chill down your spine. You drop the pencil you were holding as you feel yourself get slightly flustered. "What are you-"

"There!" Seungmin said with a smirk as he straightened himself back up. "You couldn't even handle me being that close to you, could you?" He let out a small laugh, seeing how his teasing was starting to eat at your mind.

"What I can't handle is you interrupting my study time!" You say, feeling yourself become a flustered mess. What was he doing to you? You allow yourself to recompose, going back to the notes you had been attempting to take.

He laughed, still standing behind your chair. You tried to ignore him the best you could. "Study time?" he asked raising an eyebrow. "Just admit I make you flustered," he teases. "I can see what I do to you, ya know?"

You stand up from your chair, finally deciding you have had enough of his games for today. "Why the hell would I ever admit something that stupid?"

"Oh I don't know," he replies, shrugging nonchalantly. "Maybe because it's true?" He uses this time to inch closer to you, still leaving a bit of space in between where the two of you stood. "Or maybe you're just too shy to tell me," he coos, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Your cheeks are hot, a shiver running down your arm feeling his sudden touch.

You push his hand off of you, not knowing what would happen if you let him continue. "Or maybe, you're just too much of an asshole to see not every girl is on their knees begging for a chance with you." You scoff at him, turning your body away slightly.

He lets out a breathy laugh. "It's alright. I know deep down you really, really want me." His words cut straight through you, and you felt yourself filling up with anger. A need to prove yourself. You suck your teeth, debating on the right thing to say.

"Fine," You begin. "If I want you that bad, why don't you come and kiss me! And when I have no reaction, will you finally just leave me alone?"

Seungmin's eyes widened at what he was hearing. You knew this was a dangerous game to be playing. You didn't want to admit it, but everything that let you up to this moment just proved how much you really did need to feel his body against yours. He knew what you were doing.

"Alright," He spoke, raising his hands almost to surrender to the offer. "Go for it." He spoke through gritted teeth, just wanting to have his way. He stepped closer, allowing his lips to hover near yours. His heart raced with anticipation and fear. The moment felt stretched out as the tension teetered on the edge of cruelty and desire. You close the gap, leaving a quick kiss on his lips, knowing anything longer would leave you wanting more.

"See?" you started to speak and Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing into slits. "Absolutely no reaction-"

Before letting you finish, he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. His lips crashed against yours in a rough desperate kiss. His tongue forcing his way into your mouth. His lips demanded more.

You allow yourself to finally give in to the second kiss, praying that he wasn't trying to just play with your emotions. The kiss was rough, but still felt sincere, letting you loosen up a bit against him. You wrap your arms around his neck, finally admitting to yourself you wanted more. More than the back-and-forth you have played all semester.

"Mmph," Seungmin moaned into your lips, his hand snaking down to slip under the hem of your shirt, tracing shapes on your back. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, his breathing heavy.

"So you admit it." It wasn't a question, but rather a smug statement. You catch your breath, forehead leaning against his. "Don't let it get to your head."

"Oh, I already have, love" he chuckles darkly, leaning down to leave small kisses along your jawline. "But that doesn't mean I'll stop." You let out a small moan before pushing him off of you, snapping back into your reality.

"Not here…" you trail off, remembering you are still in the library. It was empty, but that still wasn't a chance you were willing to take. "Fine," Seungmin pouted, walking back to throw his bag over his shoulder. "But this isn't over."

He began to walk out of the library, leaving you standing against the back wall, your hair looking a bit tousled. His eyes held a strong mix of need and sincerity as he gave you one last glance. "You're mine now, doll. I'll see you tomorrow."

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed my first SKZ fic! My inbox is open for requests if anyone would like to submit anything. I want to try and get back into writing more.

[x-0ophelia0-x]

Ezra x Jacen’s Nany Reader

Hear me out….. there’s NO WAY in the galaxy that Hera leaves Jacen with only Chopper, I repeat CHOPPER as supervision… that droid has committed war crimes on a daily basis as a form of entertainment, simply because he could.

Sabine has been to busy being a part-time jedi apprentice, and looking for a way to bring her idiot best friend/brother Ezra back home to their Mama Hera..

Kallus is simply too busy as a stay-at-home dad raising his horde of Lesat cubs, while his hubby Zeb is busy working as a part-time recruit trainer for the New Republic..

So.. what’s a VERY pregnant Hera to do when she comes across a young girl, who happens to be the same age as the Son she had just lost, in the streets of a still recovering planet after the fall of the Empire? Watching as the girl gently tends to the sick and injured that others seemed to ignore.. all while this child is clearly malnourished and weak herself.

Surprise bitch, you just got adopted by the coolest Mama in the Galaxy..

Aside from helping Hera around the Ghost with chores, making sure the ship’s baby ready, and studying (because Hera wants to help her new kid after clearly observing her passion for medicine) she eventually becomes Jacen’s teacher and basically the family’s personal Doctor.. (and I mean the WHOLE family.. Zeb tried to avoid his annual check-up once.. wasn’t happy that Kallus ratted him out and basically tricked him into Reader’s office)

The main draw back that Reader seams to have in her personal life though??? Her severe case of “Resting Bitch Face” nobody seems to show any interest in her, and only her adopted family seems to not be bothered by it.. she even tries to do things to make her face less intimidating.. constantly being aware of her facial expressions and doing her best to keep her eyebrows slightly raised and a slight half smile on her lips…

Then Ezra comes back… and you bet your ass as soon as the crying, hugging, lecturing and overall emotional reunion is done.. Hera is dragging Ezra by the ears to get a FULL check-up by the most trustworthy doctor she knows.. and Jacen is happily tagging along, holding his “big brothers” sleeves while waiting for him to meet one of his favorite people.. the outcome is… somewhat unexpected.. Ezra trying to be charming and calling Reader’s “serious face” cute..

And Reader being genuinely flustered by Ezra’s awkward attempt at flirting…

Jacen.. is getting ideas, and Chopper is going to help him because CHAOS WILL RAIN!!!

……. and he’s got years worth of pranks to pull on Ezra.. might as well start now.. 😉

a gremlins Nany.

pairing: Jacen‘s Nany!Readee x Ezra Bridger

warnings: none

word count: 2,1 k

summary: You’re Heras most trusted person. Not only did you take care of her beloved son Jacen, no. You were and still are his Nany and best friend. And not only that, after Ezra’s return, Hera ofc trusts you with his check ups. And Jacen and Chopper have a lot of fun about this.

authors note: It’s not proofread, pls bare with me! 😭 I‘m sick and I gave my best to make it as good as possible :´D I hope this makes sense, I‘m not really familiar with medical stuff, especially when it comes to Star Wars 💀

anywayyyy

enjoyyyy <333

imagine this being Ezra waiting for his routine checkups, thank you xd

As she walked through the streets she didn’t fail to notice a young girl, helping the people in need.

Her way with the injured and sick was more then just gentle.

Despite her own visible weaknesses portrayed by a weak body.

After each treatment she only left them to treat the next one if they reassured her that they’re fine.

„Thank you so much y/n, wouldn’t know what I’d done if it wasn’t for your help“

Said an elderly woman, truly a heartbreaking scene even if this girl was a complete stranger to her.

was.

It didn’t take her long to approach the girl, she waited for her to finish the treatment on another injured citizen before she started to talk, startling the girl on front of her.

„Hey there..“

The girl turned around and met her eyes with the stranger, her gaze was shocked at first but soon turned into one of adoration as she looked at the pregnant woman in front of her.

„H-Hey..!“

„I‘ve been here for a little while and couldn’t help but notice your way of helping your people… could I ask you a question?“

The girl looked up to the green Twi‘lek while nodding a yes.

She didn’t know how to form the question since it was a rather personal one and let’s be honest.. they didn’t talk yet.

However, this planet belonged to the ones with the highest death rates, seeing the poor girl alone here, weakened and injured.. where were her parents?

„Do you have a family here?“

As if she saw it coming the girl nodded a no, a sad expression laying bare on her face.

The Twi‘leks heart ached for her. 

She just lost one child, seeing another one, assuming at the same age as him.. it was too much to just stand by and do nothing to help.

„Would you like to become part of my crew?“

y/n looked up at her, not fully believing her ears yet.

„Are you serious..?“

„Yes“

And just like that a huge smile appeared on her face.

„Of course I’d love to!“

The woman returned y/n‘s smile and offered her her hand.

„Name‘s Hera“

„Name‘s y/n“

-

A few months passed by from the moment where you firstly walked into the Ghost.

The ship wasn’t the biggest but oh force, you’ve never felt more at peace then when you got to enter your cabin.

The ship was cozy and it even had a medbay!

Hera then decided to inform you about the other crew members and their activities. 

That’s also the reason why it was so empty.. however.

Soon you were able to meet everyone, except one boy who Hera told you was missing.

Sabine grew the closest to you (after Hera and chopper ofc).

Even if her timetable was loaded with Jedi training stuff, you two always managed to spend some time together.

Zeb worked at a part time recruit trainer for the New Republic while Kallus stayed at home, making sure that their horde of Lesat cubs wouldn’t destroy everything.

Chopper is Chopper. 

There’s nothing more to that since we all know how he is.

There’s no way that Hera would’ve trust him enough with her still unborn child.

Soooo.. with Kanan gone and Ezra missing, there’s only one person left who she’d trust enough with her baby.

You.

You were studying medicine, something you wouldn’t be able to do without Heras help.

She became something like a mother role for you and ohhh my goodness where our excited for the day the baby would be born.

She didn’t have to ask you, couldn’t even since you started to turn the ship into a baby safe place.. at least the most possible version of this since it’s a spacecraft after all .

Hera was moved to tears, seeing how much effort you put everyday to ensure her baby’s safety while everything that Chopper did was to mess with your stuff.

Yeah you were the right choice, no doubt in that.

„Hey, could I ask you to do me a favor? But before I tell you what it is, just know that whatever you’ll answer is allri-„

„Yes I want!“

„What?“

The woman was too stunned to speak.

„But you don’t know what I’m going to ask you..?“

„If I want to take care of your baby right?? Please tell me that this was your question???“

There was a spark of excitement on your voice that made Hers heart to flutter.

She didn’t know if it were her hormones or her (for now) clouded judgement but she immediately hugged you, fighting back some tears.

„Thank you..!“

-

Some years passed by and thanks to Heras help, you were able to actually get an official status as doctor.

That wasn’t your only ‚job‘ tho. You were also a part time nanny for Jason from the moment on he was born. 

Being the most trusted person available on the ghost pushed your ego, making you think that you can perform both of your ‚jobs‘ at the very same time.

It did make some things harder for you, but it was her baby after all, he was worth it.

People who knew about your story would say that you’re literally shining in comparison to your state from when before Hera found you.

Others at the other hand were kind of scared off by your resting Bitch face, not showing any interest towards you.

Your new family didn’t seem bothered at all by it, not even Jacen, but you still gave it your best to improve your facial expressions.. they never faded tho.. .

So when the day arrived where the boy called Ezra returned, Hera instantly had an assignment for you.

She and basically everyone of the ghost crew used to tell you stories about him, how he made the ultimate sacrifice to safe his crew and Lothal.

Ten years had passed since then, since his disappearance and since you’ve been as good as adopted by Hera.

The days after the big news.. we’ll it’s safe to say that you never saw her this emotional in your entire ten years.

Not even when she was pregnant with Jacen, and this is a statement. 

You weren’t there when he arrived since you had some patients waiting for their treatments, but you soon found out about the happy news when Hera called you through your comm link.

And not long after you heard her knocking on your door, dragging an middle aged man by his ears, while Jacen tagged along, holding him by his sleeves.

She asked you if you could take a look at him, a very good one since he’s been absent for like.. I don’t know… 10 years?

Yeah, sounds reasonable. 

„Please do a FULL check-up. You’re my most trusted doctor on this galaxy.“

„Of corse Hera, well then Ezra.. Please take a seat.“

He freed himself from Heras and Jacens Grasp and went to sit on the special chair. 

Ezra seemed to be excited about the technical stuff that surrounded him.. you’d be too if you’ve been stranded in the middle of nowhere for a decade so.. .

„We’ll wait outside, just tell us when we should come“

Said Hera and with that she and Jacen left the room, leaving you and Ezra alone.

„Okay then.. how are you feeling? Are you injured? Sick?“

Knowing how Important he is to Hera you tried to somehow neutralize your „special“ expression.

And he seemed to notice this, you barely knew him and he already started to change his attitude around you.

„No, I‘m totally fine“

He had a grin on his face while you raised your eyebrow at his answer.

„I still need to take a look at you so-“

He already started to take his shirt off, I mean he didn’t have to, just you her push it slightly upwards but you weren’t complaining. 

Nope.

Not at all.

But you had to keep yourself professional.

„Why did you take your shirt off?“

„For the check-up..? If I’m not wrong that’s what patients to for the lung part?“

„Ah- Yeah sorry. Yes, ehm, thank you“

You checked his heartbeat, his lungs and everything you could do at the moment.

There was one thing that concerned you.

Not his health since it was in a good state.

But the way how he made you feel.

You tried to keep a straight, neutral, friendly face while looking him up, but he made it impossible for you.

„You’re cute“

„What?“

Your movements froze for a short while, this kind of comment was unusual.

„You’re cute. You know.. the way how you try to keep your face straight“

„You’re serious?“

„Yep. Why shouldn’t I be?“

He was charming, handsome, kind, you only knew him for a very short time. Like for real. But there was something positive around him.

And it flustered you.

„Thank you“

„Just telling the truth“

-

Unbeknownst to you two, a very curious Jacen was leaning right against the door, squeezing his ear as close as he could and boy did he smile when he heard Ezra talking to his best friend.

„Jacen, you know that it’s rude to-“

„He told her that she’s cute“

He whispered, loud enough so that Hera understood him.

And her face lit up.

„He what??“

„Shhh.. come here and listen“

This private moment, at least to your knowing, made you happy.

There was finally someone who immediately found interest in you, someone who wasn’t blinded by your facial expressions or your attempt at looking natural.

Weeks passed by and he turned out to continue to be as charming as he was the day you met him.

His genuine, true, loving self made you fall im love with him and the same goes for him with you.

Hera was happy to see how both of your presences affected each other for the better and Jacen was sure that he was destined to play your matchmaker. 

And chopper didn’t let this chance go by.

Jacen wanted to help his best friend and his big brother and Chopper had years worth of pranks to pull on Ezra. 

Chaos will rain

And even if Ezra had warned you that he sensed that something would happen, nothing could ever prepare you for what was to come.

It was a peaceful day at your office.

Your last patients for today waited in the waiting room and Ezra was one of them.

Hera didn’t leave him any other choice then to go and get frequent check ups from you just in case that he really didn’t catch anything on Perridea.

His frequent check ups became known to Jacen and Chopper and they saw the perfect opportunity in this to pull their first prank on you two.

Jacen hid behind the shelf with a music box while Chopper disguised himself as something fitting to his surroundings.

They knew that you’d welcome him into your office with a hug, your relationship witch him had gotten better and better and Jacen didn’t fail to notice this.

Knowing this was the base for this prank.

As Ezra neared himself to open the door to your room, opening the door and greeting you, Choppers mini metallic arm reached out and electro shocked his leg, making him loose his balance and fall straight into your eyes.

The pose you found yourselves right now was more then unexpected as his fall took you by surprise. 

Jacen then didn’t waste any more time and played on the ‚play‘ button of the music box, playing some semantic song which seemed to be popular. 

Chopper then took a photo, beeped some things and left the room with a grinning Jacen as fast as he could.

Your patients where beyond confused at the scene and went to your office to check if everything was alright. 

As you saw them looking you two up and down… your face became the deepest shade of red known to humanity.

Ezra’s too.

This ‚incident‘ may have helped you two to get closer but you were still shy about it.

Jacen and Chopper however had other plans and lets just say that this was just the beginning.

[koffeinvergiftung]

Tips for studying as a struggling adult

I often see tips for studying and building routines, but they often help me for only a day or two, but never long run. Most of them are also oriented towards students, and the schedule won't work if you have a full time job while studying.

Note: I am neurodivergent (AuDHD), and have been struggling with mental and physical health for most of my student years, to the point where I had to drop out of University to focus on myself. These tips will be a mixture of what has helped me in high school, and what helps me now.

1. Having a routine is good, but missing your 'checklist' is not the end of the world

Having a full time job means there is a 'must do' every day, no matter what other plans I might have. What I usually do is try to work my study plans around my work schedule.

Morning shift: I come home around 1.30, so at around 3 I will start with revision, or new lecture (depending on the day). During revision, I will take a break after every 'section' (for example: vocab practice - break - sentence practice - break - revision review). If I'm starting a new lecture, I will usually take a break every 45 minutes, to mimic the classroom schedule I had when I was in school. Usually I will do my Duolingo lecture on the to, during my break, or before bed.

Afternoon shift: I try to wake up around 9, and I do my Duolingo practice while having breakfast. After that I do my revision/new lecture, and I try to study until at least 11-11.30. After work I will do some more revision, and get ready for bed.

I always spend my evenings on call with my partner, so I will also use that time to ask for help with grammar or pronunciation.

This routine helps me, BUT, there will always be days when I don't feel like doing anything, especially is work has been extra tiring that day. Then I will just do my Duolingo daily quests, and if I'm feeling like it, some vocab review.

It's okay to not be okay, if you feel like you need a break, please take some time for yourself. There is always tomorrow, or even next week. Go easy on yourself ♡

2. Make your free time count

With work and studying, it's easy to forget about your hobbies and social life. To avoid the burnout, try to fine some time every day to do what you enjoy (drawing, reading, gaming etc.) Even if you spend more time on your hobbies than studying, that's okay.

Another thing I do is take a few minutes every say to tidy up around my room. Somehow ( no idea how), trash such as papers quickly acclimate in my room, so if I don't deal with trash on a daily basis, it eventually turns into a depression room. And those are nearly impossible to deal with for me.

Make sure to keep in touch with your friends, too! I try to go out at least once a week, and sometimes turn that coffee into a study session. Those often help me stay focused, and we also talk about the material while studying.

3. Mental health matters more than your studies

I often see posts that romanticise 'working until you drop', sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose and similar. Please, please, PLEASE, take care of yourself! I used to be that way in high school, and sure, passing my classes with an A, felt amazing, but you know what didn't? Suffering a complete burnout, mental breakdown, and major issues with physical health, all withing less than six months. All due to overworking myself in highschool, all due to not taking care of myself. Remember, you can always retake the exam, or redo a year; you cannot redo your life.

When I'm feeling a burnout coming, I make sure to take a day or two just for myself; no studying, to revision, just me and myself. On those days you can do whatever makes you feel happy, relaxed and content. I usually watch a few episodes of a show, spend some time playing video games, and spend some time outside. Especially if it's a nice day outside, try to catch a few rays of sunshine every day, and especially if you're not feeling well (don't forget to wear sun protection!)

These are the tips that help me now, but most of these I couldn't really implement while I was in high school. I will do another post on how I studied before (over 5 years ago 🫣), and how I raised my grades. I'm also planning on writing (and maybe illustrating) about the way I study now, including taking notes and revising.

[sceletaflores]

well three’s the only number we know!

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it's probably just the weed hitting you funny, maybe it's the lighting, or the fact that they're both practically naked. you don't know what it is but oh god maybe the girls are right, art and patrick are fucking hot.

—or: things shift between art, patrick, and you.

word count: 4.4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), dry humping kinda, dirty talk, drug use, friends to lovers trope is NOT cringe, patrick going to college instead of going pro cause i said so, slight tashi duncan erasure...she's brought up in conversation but...you guys can still stone me for it, nat not knowing how boarding schools work, porn with WAAAAYY too much plot, no use of y/n, not beta read yell at me if there's any mistakes lmao.

author's note: once again no one asked for this but i had to start writing it as soon as the idea pierced through my frontal cortex. i promise i'll actually write the requests in my inbox i just couldn't get over this hehe it's so dialogue heavy towards the beginning but i love yapping and i need more practice characterizing them anyway lmao okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig are your best friends. You’ve known them since you were thirteen and they each punched a guy for lifting up your skirt with his racket at practice once.

You don’t even remember becoming friends with them, after that day they were sort of just always there. Bumping your shoulders in the hallway when they walk past, taking up space in your room when you’re trying to study, cheering embarrassingly loud at your matches, picking you up from practice to drive around in Patrick’s Porsche with the top down every night.

They were, and still are six years later, a constant in your life. They’re so ingrained in your daily routine that you hardly remember your life before you met them, and can’t imagine your life without them in it. They're two six foot, largely obnoxious shadows that you can’t shake.

As the three of you got older, more and more rumors started spreading. You weren’t phased by it, you had no reason to be. Art and Patrick are fiercely loyal, stuck by your side all throughout the “So which one of you is she dating today?” taunts.

You just classified it as petty teenage gossip, thinking it’d just fizzle out once you started college. It didn’t just fizzle out, if anything it actually got worse. You constantly hear the whispers and snickers as you walk around campus, as you sit in your lectures, as you eat lunch in the dining hall. They’re always petty jabs at you, and they’re always fucking stupid.

“Why does she need both of them! Greedy much? God, what a skank…”

“You know they only keep her around cause she totally puts out…”

"I heard she schedules them like appointments. Mondays and Tuesdays with Art, Wednesdays and Thursdays with Patrick, and Fridays are for whoever's lucky..."

"Bet she's got a scoreboard at home, tallying who's ahead in the 'who loves me more' contest…"

“Doesn’t she realize they’re just using her for a good time? How pathetic…”

It really doesn't bother you that much, you even start to think it’s kind of funny. Art and Patrick do not think it’s kind of funny. They scoff and frown at each new comment you relay to them, puffing their chests out all macho man style like they were about to go off and fight everyone on campus for calling you mean names.

“No one talks about our girl like that,” Patrick would say, Art beside him solemnly nodding his head in silent agreement. It’s probably remarks like that one that get people talking in the first place.

You just smile, biting back the urge to tell them that the fierce feelings of ownership and protectiveness they have surrounding you often draws more attention than any bitchy whispers ever could. 

Even the girls on your tennis team give you a hard time, badgering you with question after question of “But they’re so hot! How have you not fucked one of them yet? Come on, you must have at least thought about it…”

It’s more lighthearted coming from them, they don’t really think you’re a tramp or a skank or whatever it is people are calling you behind your back. You roll your eyes every time, telling them to shut up and mind their own damn business.

The truth is you just don’t think about Art and Patrick like that. So what if your relationship is a little different than what other people might consider a “normal” best friend bond. Does that automatically mean you want to jump each other's bones? No. 

Like, Patrick’s just a really physical person, he loves touch. It’s not like he’s sending you “fuck me” signals when he throws an arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk around campus, or when he shoves your feet off the mattress to sit down only to move them right back onto his lap when he’s settled, or when he sits on the floor between your legs when there’s no more room on Tashi’s futon for all four of you. It’s just who he is, he had shitty parents he needs to be validated through touch sometimes.

It’s the same thing with Art’s doting, he just really cares about the people around him. He’s not expecting you to bend over for him every time he massages your sore shoulders after you go too hard during practice, or when he drops to a knee in the middle of the quad to re-tie your shoes after he notices the laces came loose, or when he practically forces you into the hoodie off his back if he even slightly suspects you’re cold. He’s just a nurturing guy, his grandma raised a goddamn gentleman.

It has nothing to do with you. Seriously nothing. They’re still your best friends, closer to you than brothers. You’ve been “their girl” since you were thirteen years old and you weren’t going to ruin it for some one-off, meaningless fuck. 

“They’re just a bunch of jealous assholes,” Patrick commented from where he was perched next to the open window of his and Art’s room, a cigarette dangling from his lips, “They don’t know shit, don't listen to them.”

It’s late, maybe a little after eleven. You snuck into their room after curfew, like you do most nights. You’re technically supposed to be studying for your lab practical in a few days, but Patrick lured you out of your room with a text of ‘WHERE R U??? COME OVER’ followed quickly by ‘WE HAVE GRASS :]’

You were looking for an excuse to stop studying anyway, so you folded easily enough. As soon as you got there you regretted it, Patrick’s texts conveniently left out the fact that their AC was broken and it was absolutely hot as balls in their room. You felt it as soon as Art opened the door to let you in, a wave of heat and humidity spilling out into the hall.

The tiny window was cracked open as far as it could go with the shitty ceiling fan running overdrive in a feeble attempt to let some cool air flow through the room, and so Patrick could smoke without setting off the alarm. 

Patrick and Art were reduced to their boxers, various articles of clothing they were probably wearing earlier strewn all around the room. You were thankful you hadn’t changed before coming over, even the thin tank and shorts you were wearing felt like too much.

“I’m not listening to them,” You repeat for the millionth time, rolling your eyes as you lean back on your hands on the carpet. “I’m just saying, it’s a little hypocritical. Like, why am I always the slut and you guys are the poor souls I’m leading on? What if you guys were the ones taking advantage of me this whole time?”

Art snorts from his spot across you on the floor, shaking his head as he meticulously rolls the second joint of the night. Patrick raises an eyebrow, taking another drag of his cigarette with a smirk. He flicks the butt out the window, walking over to you and Art. “You’re just that irresistible,” He teases, reaching out to tousle your hair affectionately as he passes, "We’re powerless against your charms.”

You laugh dryly, the sound mingling with the lazy hum of the ceiling fan. “Right, my master plan to corrupt you both with my presence is finally starting to work after six years. I should get a medal for my sluttiness.”

Art chuckles softly, lighting the joint with practiced ease before holding it out to you. "If anyone should get a medal, it’s us. Six years of being led astray by your slutty tendencies," he jokes, the words punctuated by a playful nudge against your leg. 

You scoff, but a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You take the joint, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke before releasing it in a slow, steady stream. The familiar sensation starts to seep into your bones, relaxing you despite the oppressive heat. “You guys are such assholes, literally zero help. I knew I should’ve just talked to Tashi, she’s the only normal person I know.”

Patrick joins you and Art on the floor, legs stretched out as he leans back on his palms like you. “Hey, don’t throw me in with him.” Patrick said in mock offense, bringing his hand up to clutch his chest dramatically and nodding his head towards Art. “I’m a saint.”

Art just laughs, shaking his head as he takes the joint from you. “If you’re a saint then I’m the fucking Pope, man.”

The room fills with laughter, the three of you falling into easy conversation as you pass the joint around. The pungent smoke mingles with the already thick air, swirling around in the fan's wind before it filters through the open window. The oppressive heat seems to melt away, replaced by a soothing warmth that always envelopes you when you're around Art and Patrick.

They get lost in their own animated conversation about some new movie coming out that you weren’t really interested in. You lean back, content to just let their voices wash over you. The joint continues to make its rounds, each puff adding to the hazy atmosphere that blurs the edges of reality just enough to make everything feel softer, more manageable.

You languidly study Art and Patrick through half-lidded eyes, watching how easily they interact, how relaxed they are in this moment. Miles and miles of toned, freshly tanned skin from all the tennis they’d been playing recently on display. The sweat making the sharp cut of their hips and collarbones glisten under the shitty light of their desk lamps. How their happy trails disappear temptingly into their boxers, Art’s light and Patrick’s dark. 

You lick your lips, the dryness from the smoke and the sight in front of you combining to make your mouth feel like a desert. The buzz in your brain is making everything seem sharper, more vivid, and you can't help but let your eyes linger a little longer on the defined lines of their bodies. 

You’ve seen them in their boxers more times than you can count, but something about this is different. The heat in the room is almost too much now, but it's doing things to you, and you're not sure if it's the temperature or something else entirely.

It’s probably just the weed hitting you funny, maybe it’s the lighting, or the fact that they’re both practically naked. You don't know what it is but oh God maybe the girls are right, Art and Patrick are fucking hot. 

The realization is like a smack to the face, making you acutely aware of every detail– the way Art’s muscles ripple as he leans to pass you the joint, the obscene spread of Patrick’s hairy thighs making his boxers ride up even higher, the subtle scent of their colognes mixing with the smoke in the air.

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, sending a shiver down your spine as you try to play it cool, pretending not to notice the way your heart stutters when Art’s fingers brush against yours as he passes you the joint. 

You shift uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of your fluttering pulse and the wetness starting to gather between your thighs. That’s definitely the weed, you’d never get wet thinking about your very platonic closer-to-you-than-even-brothers-would-be best friends if you were sober. At least that's what you try telling yourself, not fully meeting Patrick’s eye as he takes the joint from you.

You must zone out for a bit, shaken by the kind of life-altering realization that you just might, a teensy tiny bit, want to fuck Art and Patrick. You don’t notice the way their conversation slowly trails off, how Patrick notices the sudden shift in your behavior. His eyes rake over you, lingering on the sliver of skin showing where your top doesn't quite meet your shorts. He shoots Art a knowing smirk, kicking his knee lightly. Art follows Patrick’s gaze, eyes darkening with understanding. He looks back over at Patrick, a tiny grin on his face as he gives him a single nod.

“I mean, it wouldn’t even be that big a deal if we did,” Patrick says casually, bringing the dwindling joint up to his lips, “If we fucked, I mean.” He clarified, head lolling to the side sluggishly.

You snap out of it, looking between the two of them– the mischievous glint in Patrick’s eyes as he exhales smoke lazily into the air, the slight pink tint to Art’s cheeks slowly reaching the very tip of his ears as he nervously chews his lower lip.

The weight of Patrick’s words settle over you, adding another layer of nearly suffocating warmth that has nothing to do with the broken AC. The implications of what he just said swirl in your mind, a heady mix of curiosity, arousal, and slight panic. 

You don’t know when or how it happened, but they both seem closer than they were before. The two of them crowd around you, pressing in on either side, green and blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your thighs clench together.

You turn to Art, ready for him to shut Patrick down and defend your honor from his sleazy lines like the good cop he always is, but instead, Art’s grin widens, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifts in front of you, his hand brushing against your knee sends a jolt of electricity through you. “We’re friends,” he says softly, eyes big and earnest, as if reassuring both you and himself, “and we trust each other. It’s not like it would change anything, right?”

Never content being one-upped by Art, Patrick reaches out to settle his hand on your thigh, high up enough that his pinkie makes contact with the edge of your shorts. “Everyone’s already thinking it,” he reasons, stubbing out the joint on the plate Art was using to roll, “why not give them something to really talk about?”

The air grows heavy with tension, each breath you take feeling like a Herculean effort. Art’s fingers trace light, teasing patterns on your knee, his touch both comforting and maddeningly slow. Patrick’s hand remains firm on your thigh, "Imagine," he continues, his voice low and seductive, "what it would feel like to be touched, kissed, fucked by both of us. At the same time."

Art's hand inches higher, and you shiver at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "We could make you feel so good," Art adds, his eyes shining dark with desire. "If you want it."

You look at them, gaze trailing from Art’s sweet face to the challenge in Patrick’s eyes, daring you to break the tension or back out. Your mind races, torn between the overwhelming want coursing through you and the nagging voice of caution still present in the back of your head. But as Patrick's fingers toy with the thin material of your shorts, and Art's breath grazes your neck, the decision becomes easier.

“Maybe we should,” you hear yourself saying before you can stop, the words tumbling out, shaky but determined. Patrick's smirk widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he turns to Art. His gaze lingers on Art’s calm demeanor, a dare unspoken yet unmistakable. Art meets his eyes evenly, a tiny smile on his lips betrays his facade. They share a look, a sort of silent conversation shared between them before they're leaning in.

Your eyes are closed, but you can still tell it’s Art who kisses you first. Big hands coming up to gently cup your face as he leans in, you can smell the mint from gum he chews constantly. His lips are so soft, so gentle, and so hesitant; almost like he’s worried you don’t really want this. You respond eagerly, throwing your arms around his shoulders and dragging him forward. He’s on you in less than second, arms braced on either side of your hips as he really starts to kiss you. 

Art’s tongue drags over the seam of your lips, licking at your mouth like he’s eating pussy. Laving quick, dirty drags of his tongue until you part your lips on a high moan so he can slip it in to brush against your own. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepens, getting messy and desperate. You can feel his heartbeat pounding up against his rib cage where his chest is pressed tightly to yours, you can feel the thick length of his hard dick burning a line through his boxers onto your thigh.

You get so caught up in kissing Art you forget Patrick’s even there until he’s trailing sloppy kisses along your jawline. “Shit, guys we should make a fucking porno,” he says into your ear, breath hot and teasing, “we’d get fucking rich.” He huffs with a low chuckle, sliding his hand up your tank to palm at your tits roughly. His chuckle dissolves into a throaty groan when his greedy hands find even more bare skin, no bra.

Art gasps against your lips, hips grinding down onto your thigh at Patrick’s words. “Fuck off,” he snaps, but the strong twitch of his dick gives him away. He rests his forehead on yours, breath coming out in ragged huffs to mingle with your own. He looks fucking wrecked, shiny blue eyes glazed over with lust, lips slick and pink, long lashes fanning over his flushed cheeks. He gives you one last quick peck before his hands come up to your shoulders and gently push you backwards.

You’re confused until you feel the warm, bare skin of Patrick’s toned chest on your back. He looms over you, using his free hand to grip your chin and force your head to the side.

The angle’s a little odd, but neither of you seem to mind. Patrick kisses like he’s trying to kill you, a mess of too much tongue and rough bites to your lips and so much spit it should be disgusting. The slick noise of your tongues sliding together has your cheeks burning with how lewd it is. Normally you’d be grossed out, maybe if it was any other guy you would be. You’d shove him off of you and kick him out of bed, but it’s not some guy; it’s Patrick. You can’t help but whine into his mouth, craving more of his brutal affection, feeling the dizzying rush of passion that borders on pain.

Art’s lips are on your neck, sucking marks onto your skin, his breath hot and uneven as he murmurs something you can't quite make out. You should tell him to stop, that people will talk if they see you all marked up, but maybe you don’t give a fuck anymore. Maybe you want people to talk. His hands are everywhere, fingers digging into your hips, tugging you closer, grounding you in the whirlwind of sensations. Patrick's grip tightens on your chin, biting your lips hard enough to make you whine, and Art responds with a low moan, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

It’s so fucking dirty, so filthy, so demeaning and you’ve never been so wet before. 

You throw your head back, with a loud moan as Patrick plays with your tits under your shirt and Art lick’s a dirty stripe up your throat. “Fuck! God, Pat…” your chest heaves, back arching up into Patrick’s hands, craning your head so Art has more room to trail sweet kisses along your collar bones.

Patrick just laughs, running a hand down your stomach and into your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, the palm of his hand grinding roughly against the soaked cotton of your panties. “You’re fucking dripping all over me, holy shit,” Patrick breathes, long fingers sliding easily through the wet mess of your folds. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, staring down at where his hand disappears beneath the waistband.

“I think,” Patrick breathes, “that you need to let Art eat your pussy, and I think I need to watch.”

Your mind goes blank, sparks going off at the base of your spine as Patrick’s words echo in your ears. Art’s lips still against your neck, he’s practically whining, greedy hands roaming all over your soft skin.

You feel a rush of heat, your pussy aching with the need for exactly that. The thought of Art eating you out, with his gentle touches and caring eyes, juxtaposed with Patrick's commanding presence looming over the whole thing, sends you spiraling. You can hardly breathe, every nerve ending alive with anticipation and desire. The room seems to shrink around you, the air thick with tension, as you struggle to find your voice, to process the electrifying proposition that now hangs in the air between you.

You meet Art’s heavy gaze, his pupils dilated with a mix of want and need completely swallowing up the blue. His breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the tremor in his hands as they move to caress your thighs. Patrick's presence is a steady force behind you, his hand gently but firmly guiding you to make the choice you know you both want.

Finally, you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation, “Yes.”

Art wrestles your shorts down your legs quickly, yanking them off and tossing them behind his shoulder. Your panties are quick to follow, rolling and bunching up until he huffs in frustration and rips them straight down the middle, leaving the tattered fabric to hang limply around your ankles. The surprised moan that leaves your lips at Art’s restraint finally snapping is almost loud enough to drown out the sound of Patrick’s laugh at how fast Art’s on his stomach between your legs. 

Patrick hooks his thick legs over yours, keeping you spread open and exposed. Art’s eyes screw shut, his head falling to rest on the ground, like the sight of your slick pussy is just too much. “Shit,” he mutters, hips twitching slight against the floor.

“Come on, Art,” Patrick goads, “know you wanna taste this pretty pussy.” He reaches over and spreads your pussy open in a lewd “v” with his fingers, “Make our girl feel good.”

Art looks up at you, face flushed and eyes wide, blonde curls flopping over his forehead messily. “Is this okay?” He’s so close you can feel his hot breath fanning over your slick, aching clit.

“Yes–” You barely get the word out before Art rushes forward, trailing kisses along your inner thighs. His mouth is everywhere but where you want it to be. You whine, hips twitching towards his face in an attempt to get him to touch you. “Please, Art.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, tone way too earnest for what he’s about to do, finally sliding his tongue through the wet lips of your pussy. He drags it teasingly up the seam of you, all the way up till he’s circling your clit. His tongue laving over the tips of Patrick’s fingers each time.

Being sandwiched between the two of them is almost too much and somehow still not enough. Art splayed out on his stomach between your legs, head buried in your violently trembling thighs. Patrick plastered to your back, sweaty and firm as he spreads you wide open for his best friend's mouth.

Art’s big hands grip the sensitive skin of your inner thighs hard, his tongue licking broad strokes over your pussy as Patrick’s fingers start to rub fast circles on your clit while he spews filth over your shoulder.

“Fuck that’s so hot,” Patrick growls, “look at you, all spread out for us.”

You look down at Art to see he’s already looking at you. Sparkly eyes shiny and wet, brows furrowed as he keeps licking and licking, so messy with it that spit drips down his chin. His nose pressed up against all the right spots, making you see stars every time you blink. You never would have guessed it but he is fucking good at this, either he’s way too humble or selling himself short because holy shit.

Art's moaning and whining into your pussy like he's the one getting head, hands surely bruising your thighs with how hard he's gripping them. The roll of his hips fucking down against the ground is sinful.

“God– fucking shit, Art,” You whine pathetically, shaking with just how much ecstasy is coursing through your body. You think you may pass out.

“You like that?” Patrick asks hotly, lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, “You like watching him fuck the ground like a slut while he eats your pussy?” His fingers raise to give your clit a light slap, your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you cry out.

“Mmph, Patrick-!” Your thighs clench, trying in vain to squeeze shut. Patrick keeps them spread, his free hand coming around to grip Art’s hair, roughly dragging his head up and down your pussy faster. Art groans so loud against your clit that you actually feel the vibration, his hips rutting into the ground faster.

“Art–! I’m so close, God, I’m coming, Patrick, I’m coming, I’m com-” You cry out, cut off by Patrick's mouth slamming over yours, sucking your tongue into his mouth. “Do it,” he spits, biting your lower lip meanly, “fucking come, come all over your best friends face.”

Your thighs shake as you come, hands gripping Art’s hair like a vice as you gush over his tongue. He moans into your pussy, working you through the aftershocks. He drags his tongue along you until the over-stimulation gets to be too much and you’re dragging his face away by his hair. 

“Alright,” Patrick says breezily, dragging his tongue from the corner over your mouth to the hinge of your jaw to catch your earlobe between his teeth. “Art got to have his fun,” he laughs, dark eyes staring pointedly at the wet patch soaking the front of Art’s boxers.

Art's too fucked out to even jab him back, chest heaving with each breath he takes. His lips are slick and red, the complete lower half of his face shining with your come, glazed over eyes half-open and dark. The sight is enough to have your pussy clenching, ready for round two. Patrick’s hips grind into your back purposely, dragging his still hard dick against your ass. “Now it’s my turn.”

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[miekasa]

random boyfriend eren hcs (modern/college au)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern/college au, himbo eren supremacy as per usual, but can you imagine eren, armin, and jean living together in one house bye

↯ notes: this is me once again trying out this headcanon format, also because i have lots of thoughts about eren (being normal) and going to college lmao

↯ more notes: sorry i have to repost this again tumblr is being dumb ://

Not a frat boy, but definitely lives by the mantra “work hard, party harder.”

Likes going out to frat parties and keggers first year, but calms down as time goes on. Sophomore year is more house parties and occasionally going downtown to clubs. By the time junior year rolls around tho, he and Jean are thee party hosts. Homecoming, Halloween, Pre-Thanksgiving break, you name it, those two have a reason to throw a party for it

But party doesn’t always mean absolute rager. Sometimes it’s just drinking with your friends, playing pong, and absolutely crushing Jean at uno. 

At parties with lots of other people, Eren really doesn’t let people fuck around with you, or any of his friends really. Once almost got into a fight because he watched a guy out his hands on yours and Mikasa’s waists to “move around you.” As if. 

Wears his key necklace around all the time, obviously. So he gives you a necklace with a lock on it, with both of your initials engraved on the back. 

Nobody really notices it at first, since the chains are long and the necklaces are you usually tucked inside your shirts. But one day, ever the observant one, Armin catches a glimpse of yours resting on top of your shirt. Cue squinted eyes looking back and forth between you and Eren before—eureka! “You and Eren have matching necklaces!!!”

Plays sports, not for a scholarship but just for fun. Gets very pouty when you can’t make it to his games; and gets extra pouty if you show up, but you’re not wearing his jersey.

On the flip side, gets very giddy when he sees you in the stands with his jersey on and very ostentatiously scoops you up into a hug after the game is over.

Literally does not know where the library is until you show it to him. Any of them. Help him.

The worst person to study with if he doesn’t have any actual work to do. Will bother you and prefer to gossip than to let you do your work in peace. If you need an actual study buddy, you should try Mikasa.

Drunkenly hits on you a lot. Scratch that, he hits on you regardless, drunk or sober, despite the fact that you’re literally dating him already.

Literally reserves at least two nights of the week to have dinner with Armin bye and you couldn’t even interrupt them if you tried.

Waits for you outside of your classroom if you’ve had an important presentation or something. Not always with anything cheesy or loud, but just to be able to cheer you on and congratulate you after.

Hates the act of going grocery shopping, but loves going with you. Also because you force him to buy things other than Anytizers and Kraft Mac and Cheese.

Steals your hair ties and scrunchies to put his hair up. Does not fucking give them back, and denies having them, even if they’re piling up on his wrist.

Will drive you anywhere and everywhere. He is your personal Uber. Even if you don’t want him to be, he would rather die than let you get into an actual Uber—and if it’s late at night? Forget it, Eren doesn’t care if you’re 45 mins away, he’ll come get you.

After you stabbed him with your pen for drawing in your notebook (with your very pristine notes), he started leaving sticky notes inside of them instead.

They’re all super random, usually incoherent, and sometimes just drawings, and you’d never tell him, but you keep every single one.

Cuts class a lot, but not to the point where he’s failing. Just when he feels like it’s deserved, you know? Like, if he attended lecture for a class all week, he deserved to skip Friday’s lecture. As a treat.

He’s embarrassing. Endearing, but so embarrassing. Like, singing in the middle of the street embarrassing. Asking you to do a TikTok in public embarrassing. Why do you even love him.

Moves off-campus during junior year and rooms with Jean and Armin in three-bedroom house. So, he’s never actually lonely, but he’s a little crybaby and will whine to get to you to come over.

LOVES sleeping over at your place, though. Because you live with Annie and Mikasa, so your place is always clean and always smells good. Plus Mikasa and Annie are usually busy, which means you get more privacy at your place.

Mikasa honestly just starts making breakfast for Eren in the mornings when he does sleep over, and Annie is so unfazed by his presence.

Jumps at the opportunity to join in on your girls wine-night or skincare-routine night. So what if it’s him and three other girls drinking red wine with face masks on and talking about Anne Hathaway movies while playing Monopoly Deal? It leaves him pleasantly buzzed and his skin is absolutely glowing, suck his dick, Connie.

Likely doesn’t understand a thing about your major/program but listens enthusiastically when you talk about it anyways.

His lock screen is the only selfie he’s ever convinced you to take with him. (That’s okay because he has many screenshots of your snaps for safekeeping and blackmailing).

Tries to get you to exercise with him. If you’re into that, then great. If you’re not, it’s okay, he always has time to stop and take a mid-workout thirst trap to send your way. Because he’s annoying like that.

Once accidentally replied to the whole class instead of just the professor on an email asking him to be a g and bump his 89.9 to a 90. Embarrassing. (The prof did raise in the end tho, so maybe he really does have some charm to him).

Has to wear reading glasses when studying for a long time/or at his computer for a long time, and even though he doesn’t like them, you think he looks super cute in them; so he wears them more often than usual. 

Calls you asking for the most obscure school supplies/stationary. “Babe, hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare 4x8 poster board laying around now would you?” 

Mind you this is at, like, 3am, 12 hours before the poster board in question is due. 

Speaking of stationary, is an absolute little shit and steals your good pens. He’s partial to the sparkly ones, if he’s being honest. They make his notes look better, fuck you, Jean. 

“Eren, give me back my purple 0.4mm pen.” “I don’t know what that is, sorry.” “Eren, I can see it in your hand!” 

Brings you snacks while you’re studying. If you’re really trying to crack down and be serious, he won’t even bother you. Just bring the snacks, bring you water and boba, kiss your little forehead and be on his way.

Has a polaroid camera he got as a birthday gift, and uses it to sneak pictures of you whenever you’re not looking. He keeps the good ones hung up on a sponge board in his room.

He has a few.... riskier ones too, but those are for his eyes only.

Loves to pick out your nail color when you get your nails done. Honestly gets a little pouty when you don’t ask him lmaoo

Purposely leaves his clothes around so you can wear them. Isn’t subtle about it in the slightest. Sometimes leaves them with a note: “Please wear this, you’d look cute as fuck. Thank you. —Management.”

(slightly nsfw below)

Is not too proud to ask you for risqué snaps. Not necessarily full nudes, thought he doesn’t object to those.

Will literally give you hickeys out of boredom. Will pull you onto his lap and start kissing your neck because he has nothing better to do. Also because it leads to sex 7/10 times. The other 3 times, it’s because he falls asleep with his head in your neck lmaoo

Might have once fucked you with one of his lectures playing in the background, but you’ll never tell.

He really likes phone sex. He’s shit at being quiet, so he can only really do it when Jean and Armin are out of the house, but there’s something about only being able to hear your moans to get off that really does it for him.

He’s kind of goofy and absentminded sometimes, so sometimes you’ll be mid-sex and he’ll look at you like “Hey, did you finish your assignment, it’s due tomorrow right?”

And honestly, you kinda wanna be upset, but then you start thinking—“Did I finish my assignment?” And then you realize you did and nod and he’s like “Ok, cool,” kisses your forehead and resumes where you left off.

[bread-tab]

i'm at the stage of the semester where i can only do so much to affect my final grade, to catch up, etc, and i find myself in an unprecedented state of serene reflection

i have learned so much from this class about what it means to go back to school as an adult.

which is weird because i went to college for 8-ish years straight as a young adult trying to get my damn associate's degree and i started to feel REALLY old by the time i hit 24 in that environment.

but as the big three-oh slowly draws nearer, and i come back to the ministrations of the education industry after a couple of very long gap years... i find myself in a different paradigm.

i've forgotten my old routine. i've gotten rusty at it. i didn't plan before the semester, or go carefully shopping for supplies; i didn't even go to the disability services office and ask for accommodations

(which in hindsight i should have, because they'd have let me use some expensive but very handy note-taking software for free and it's a little late for that now but i still need to catch up on recorded lectures)

i just. dived right in. and i handled it like a fukcing champ. i figured out new time management and mental energy budgeting strategies on the fly. i juggled making it to class around two jobs, a volunteer gig, and multiple illness flareups. i dropped the ball spectacularly. i had a couple very bad anxious breakdowns. and every time, i de-catastrophized and picked myself back up.

it's time to start work on the final essay. miracle of miracles, i got the reading done for it. now i have to do (shudder) research. my goal is to submit ONE structrually sound essay, edited, maybe even looked over by a tutor first—ONE good essay that i didn't write on the day of the deadline, goddamnit.

and even if i do, even if i get 100% on the final, i don't know whether i will pass the class. but i will continue giving it the good ol' college try right up to the last day.

(and unlike last time i did this—last time i decided i'm going to squeeze every drop of insight and integrity out of my stupid hard-earned F—this time i'm not stressing about it. i mean, i feel the stress, sure. but it's an order of magnitude less serious.)

this has been a learning experience. i don't know what the hell i was thinking signing up for the class i've historically done the worst at this semester, when i was out of practice with the entire concept of going to school, stressed, unmedicated, broke and stretched thin on time management already. what the fuck, January!Jack?

but somehow i've done the best i ever have in this class. i've done all the readings. i've read some damn decent literature these last couple of months. i actually participated in discussions without pulling anything out of my ass from a hasty skim-reading. inability to complete writing assignments in a timely manner aside... i at least started most of them. i cannot stress enough that i did all the readings, *unmedicated.* (coffee helps but is not an effective substitute.) i have no idea where this newfound ability to focus has come from... well, wait, i do.

i figured out how to make myself *want* to do all the readings.

all of them.

if nothing else, that's worth the $400 i dropped on this class even if i fail. i figured out how to fucking read again.

in short:

W

[bazwillendinflames]

Are We On The Same Wavelength? (2/4) (Dylan/Ryan)

Read on AO3 | First Chapter | Next chapter

Sequel to Second Chances, my college radio au. Thank you to everyone who commented on and supported that fic, it means so much to me!

“Have you ever liked someone so much you feel like you’re going to explode?”

After accidentally confessing his crush live on air, Dylan got his second chance with his dream guy. But as his relationship with Ryan develops, he feels out of his league. Can he finally find the words to express the extent of his feelings?

After a confusing weekend, Ryan couldn’t bring himself to listen to Dylan’s show on Monday morning. He listened to a carefully curated playlist of angsty grunge on the subway, lofi during his morning shift and he stuck on Bizarre Yet Bonafide on the walk to his first class. Although it didn’t provide the distraction he had been hoping for. Had Anton and Grace always been so flirty? Ryan just wanted to hear about some goddamn ghosts. 

It didn’t feel right to break his usual routine of listening to Dylan’s show. But after how weird he had been acting yesterday, Ryan wasn’t sure if he could handle hearing him joking around with Kaitlyn like nothing had changed. 

By the time Ryan got to his Art 101 class, he gave up on trying to listen to anything, although he kept his earbuds tucked into his shirt out of habit anyway. He was early like usual and the lecture hall was quiet, even as a few other students drifted in. Abi, the nice red-haired girl who sat in front of him, was one of them. She gave him a wave as she got settled, drawing in the giant sketchbook as they waited.

Ryan managed to pull his focus enough to make notes once the lecture began. Art 101 was his favorite class; it was the closest thing to studying animation that he had been able to take. Ryan hadn’t been able to justify moving to California for animation school when New York was full of good, cheaper and closer colleges. 

But once class was over, he had nothing but free time to worry over Dylan. 

Abi came to his rescue, hoovering by his side as he packed up. She was so tiny and quiet that it startled him a little when she suddenly appeared by his side. 

“Hey,” she said.  

“Hi.” Ryan waved, feeling a little awkward. They had spoken a few times - Abi was into animation too and had given him a few tips - but not enough to consider them friends. Or maybe they were and he’d missed it. Ryan had never been good at understanding the subtleties of social cues. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, emails for the group project were sent out this morning. We’re in the same group, with Nick. That’s the cute Australian guy.” 

“Thanks.” Ryan’s mind was already drifting back to Dylan and the way he had froze up yesterday. He forced himself to focus. “Did you want to start planning?” 

Abi smiled. “I’m free now. What about you?” 

He and Dylan had a study date planned. Or at least they had until Dylan had canceled last minute over text. 

Ryan nodded. “Library?” 

“I’ll get Nick,” Abi agreed. 

Ryan watched as the two of them giggled together, Nick fixing an unruly lock of Abi’s hair whilst she blushed. Ryan had pulled a similar move on Dylan on Saturday night. 

They had gone to see a horror film and hadn’t taken long to figure out that Dylan had been overexaggerating his tolerance for horror and cheap gore because twenty minutes into the film he had jumped and spilled popcorn everywhere. Dylan had spent most of the film, covering his eyes and hiding in Ryan’s shoulder. All of a sudden he got all the cliches. Having your date cuddled up to you for two hours straight was always a good thing. 

After, Ryan had pretended that some of the spilled popcorn was stuck in his hair and had leaned in slowly, just to gauge Dylan’s reaction, and then kissed him. 

“Did I do good?” Dylan had asked after. 

Even under the neon lighting of the cinema, Ryan could make out the faint blush on his cheeks. There had been popcorn in his hair after all, once Ryan was paying attention to that and not his mouth. 

It was a perfect moment, which Ryan had savored, although it felt bittersweet now. Dylan had flinched away when he had gone in for a second kiss at the station, the definition of deer in the headlights. He couldn’t figure out what had changed overnight. 

“Ready to go?” Nick asked, bringing him back to reality. It occurred to Ryan he was now stuck in a group project where he was destined to be a third wheel in an already uncomfortable social situation. 

“Can’t wait,” he said dryly. 

  “No headphones?” Laura asked, in the same tone she probably used when talking to injured pets.

Ryan looked up from his laptop. He had come to the library to start his part of the Art 101 presentation but he’d gotten sidetracked by an online test about love languages to figure out if that’s where he was going wrong. The quiz had assigned him as enjoying quality time but it hadn’t helped him figure out what Dylan liked if it wasn’t physical touch. 

“Ry?” 

He closed the tab. “Sorry.” 

“You’re distracted,” Laura observed. “I figured, since someone shelved a bunch of comics in the self-help section.” 

“Mystery solved,” he joked. 

“What’s up?” Laura asked. “Don’t say ‘nothing’ ‘cause I know you and that would be bullshit.” 

She did know him - nothing was going to be his exact answer. 

Instead, Ryan told her the truth. Laura was his best friend at college. She was kind of the only best friend he had ever had, if he didn’t count Sarah. 

“It’s Dylan. He’s being weird.” 

“Okay. Like the ‘what the hell is going on in his head’ kind of weird?” 

“That one,” Ryan replied. “I thought he really liked me. He was acting like he really liked me, it seemed so obvious even I could tell and I usually miss those kinds of social cues. But once I worked up the nerve to kiss him he started being different.” 

Laura nodded. “Different how?” 

Ryan picked at his nail varnish. Or what was left of it, since he had already scraped most of it earlier as he fell into a rabbit hole of corny relationship advice. Half of the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it until there was none left to pick at. 

“It’s hard to explain. It’s almost like Dylan went back to how we were on our first date. Nervous.” 

“Maybe the answer’s that simple,” Laura suggested. “Maybe Dylan is just nervous? It seems like he likes you a lot. And it’s college. It’s a lot of people’s first big, real relationship.” 

Dylan had mentioned he hadn’t been out in high school. He’d grown up in a small town too, just in Indiana and not upstate New York. Dylan had a way of hiding all the vulnerability behind his dumb jokes. Apart from when they met again in the bookshop, Ryan had only seen the briefest glimpses of ‘Dylan Dylan’ - the way he raced through his science homework, the time where he’d worn his glasses for an early coffee date, the soft way he had asked ‘did I do good’ after the kiss. 

“I think you’re right,” Ryan admitted. “It is my first real relationship too.” 

“You’re in it together.” Laura smiled. “Want to hear some predictable advice?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Talk to him,” she finished. 

“Genius,” he said dryly. “But noted.” 

Laura hesitated before continuing on. “Did I ever tell you Max applied for the grad programme too?” 

She hadn’t. “No? He wanted to be a vet.” 

“Max wanted to be an engineer. That’s what he applied for anyway. He didn’t get in. I did.” 

Laura looked much younger. She was only twenty-two, three years older than Ryan, but she had her shit together. 

“I was pissed, but not because he didn’t get in. Max didn’t tell me he got rejected until two weeks before, when we started looking for off-campus housing. He’d kept it secret for over a month.” 

Ryan wasn’t sure what to say. He knew Max wasn’t a student like Laura was. But he didn’t know Max had tried to get in too and failed. “What did you do?’ 

“We worked it out. I never wanted to be that girl who ditched her dream college for a boy. But me and Max have been together since we were sixteen. We stuck together through three years of our shitty community college so we could move out of North Carolina for grad school.” 

“He went with you.” 

“Yeah. We love each other. Max told me that he was embarrassed about not getting in. He didn’t want to hold me back. We still left for New York. He just found another path whilst I finished my veterinary studies.” Laura smiled, the same fond look that was usually directed at Max, this time for thinking about him. “I guess my point is you need to talk to the person you’re dating when you worry about shit. Otherwise you get left behind.”

Worry twisted at Ryan’s stomach. “How do I get Dylan to talk to me?” 

“Your thing with him is still new. But you should invite him to our party this weekend. It’ll show him you’re serious; him meeting your friends is a big step.” 

Ryan should have talked to her days ago. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” Laura reached over and squeezed his hand. “Hey, want me to repaint your nails?”

  Ryan had been expecting the worst when he asked if Dylan wanted to hang out. But he had agreed eagerly, sending so many emojis in his response that all the pink and red hearts started to hurt his eyes. 

He kept Laura’s advice in mind as he waited for Dylan to show up. He was late but came carrying two iced coffees and Ryan took out his earbuds, the mysteries of the Loch Ness monster on hold for now. 

“Hey,” Dylan said, seeming a little breathless. “I got you a coffee.” 

“Thanks.” Ryan took the cup offered to him, their fingers brushing together. “Are you good?” 

Somehow, Dylan made the thumbs up seem sarcastic. “Funny story. I thought getting you a coffee would be nice but the line was long and I was running late and then they were low on ice. So I ran most of the way here.” 

Ryan smiled. “I wish I could say that surprises me.” 

Dylan only shrugged in response. “So, what’s the plan? Or do you just enjoy the ambient hipster vibes of a thrift store?” 

“Did you just call me a hipster?” Ryan asked. “Uh, my friend’s throwing a party on Saturday. It’s eighties themed so I need something to wear.” 

“Cool.” 

“You’re invited,” Ryan blurted. “If you want to go.” 

Dylan tried to hide his relief behind his cup, but Ryan could make out the little smile there. “I’d love to go. As your plus-one or…” 

“I think the word you’re looking for is date,” he teased. Dylan looked embarrassed at being called out but it was a good sign to Ryan; Dylan still liked him. 

“So, it is a date?” He hinted.

“Yeah, it’s a date.” 

“Cool, cool, cool.” 

They headed inside the store. It was thankfully free of any loud music that most thrift stores tended to blast, since Ryan wasn’t able to stick in his earbuds with Dylan there. It was one of the more curated kind of thrift stores, unlike the one back in North Kill where he and Sarah had to dig around in messy bins to find her new school clothes. Instead, everything was neat and categorized by decade, the main reason Ryan had suggested it. 

They headed to the eighties section, browsing through the brightly coloured jackets. The weird plastic nylon fabric felt awful even briefly brushing against his skin, so he moved onto a new rack of softer looking t-shirts instead. 

“This is a lot of neon,” Dylan noted. “This is why they all wore sunglasses inside.” 

Ryan scoffed. “Sure, in music videos.” 

“Those are basically historic artifacts,” he said. He held up a patterned button up in an off putting shade of green. “This is a piece of history Ryan.” 

“It sure is something.” 

Dylan thankfully put it back. “So why eighties?” 

“I’m not sure. I guess you’d have to ask Laura that.” She and Max liked eighties horror, but maybe there was another connection Ryan was missing. 

“So, it’s Laura’s party?” Dylan asked, his tone overly casual. 

“Yeah. I’ll introduce you.” Ryan looked over but Dylan was either suddenly interested in dusty legwarmers or avoiding looking at him. “Would that be okay?” 

“What? Totally. You met Kaitlyn, so it makes us even.” 

“For about five minutes,” Ryan said. “She seems cool though.” 

“She’s my best friend. But I’d never tell her that to her face.” Dylan finally looked back at him. “I should introduce you to her properly. Just be warned, she might eat you alive.” 

Ryan laughed. “I’ll take that risk.” 

They went back to looking through the racks. Ryan found a slightly faded The Smiths shirt, something he’d pick up anyway. He held it for Dylan to see. 

“Hang on,” he said. He returned with an armful of plaid shirts, shoving them in Ryan’s arms. “It completes the whole punk vibe.” 

Ryan was a little too aware that this was the closest they had been all day. But Dylan seemed so relaxed that he didn’t want to freak him out by doing anything more. 

“Thanks,” he said instead. 

“Thank me when you get into Vogue.” Dylan seemed to notice their closeness too. He ducked his head, breaking their eye contact. “Your turn to help me.” 

Ryan spotted the perfect shirt the next rack over. “How do you feel about pink?” 

  Once they had checked out, and were loaded up with paper bags full of clothes, they started the long walk back to campus. 

Ryan had suggested they walk so that they could actually hear each other instead of the rumble of the subway. But he didn’t feel  ready to bring up the radio station incident yet, even with Laura’s advice in the back of his mind. 

Luckily, Dylan was great at filling the silence with small talk. 

“You’re lucky to have a group that actually lets you help,” he complained, after Ryan had mentioned meeting up with Abi and Nick. “Someone asked if I was the ‘radio guy’ and now they’re acting like I’m some idiot who’s going to ruin it.” Ryan frowned. “What class is this for?” 

“Environmental science,” Dylan answered, with a little huff, “I’m literally going to major in science.” 

“That sucks.” 

“Well they’re missing out on my sick powerpoint skills.” Dylan was joking but he was clearly bothered. “Guess I’ll have to bore you about the benefits of solar panels instead.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” Ryan said. 

“A low barrier for a compliment, but I’ll take it.” 

“Before, you said they treat you like an idiot. But you’re not.” Ryan said. “I looked up those textbooks you brought when you first came into the store. It’s for a senior only class.” 

“Okay stalker.” Dylan smiled. “But thanks.” 

Ryan moved his bag into his left hand, reaching out to take Dylan’s hand that was swinging between them. “I wouldn’t take an idiot as my plus one.” 

“I thought we agreed on ‘date’?” 

Ryan’s only response was to smile. They walked the rest of the way to campus hand in hand. And when Ryan dropped him off outside his dorm building, Dylan didn’t flinch away when he said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. 

Ryan made a plan on a way back to his own dorm. The party was only three days away. And it could be the perfect moment to finally take Laura’s advice and ask Dylan to be his boyfriend. 

[bubble-tea-bunny]

i could make you care

[saiki kusuo x reader]

author’s note: i tried to incorporate as many characters into this as possible to make it feel like an actual episode and i got overwhelmed so fast lol i haven’t written this many characters in a story in a long time. in any case hope i did them justice and that you enjoy :’)

word count: 3,029

Today’s morning is bright, and Saiki’s walk is quiet. Typically this would be no cause for concern. A quiet walk to school is few and far between, difficult to come by given the company he keeps. (He’d much prefer a calmer bunch, if he were granted the chance to choose, but that is neither here nor there.) Don’t misunderstand: he’d bask in this brief peace, guaranteed to be broken the moment he passes through the gates of PK Academy, if the reason for this uncharacteristic period of silence comes about because of the absence of one particular person—someone who, if one could hardly believe it, Saiki actually prefers to have around more often than not.

He walks past the street which leads to your home, his pace never slowing because he expects you’ll join him, as you do every morning. You’ll wait for him on the corner and smile widely like you haven’t seen him in weeks then skip towards him, falling in step easily. He’ll remain nonplussed as you hug his arm, give it a brief squeeze as you greet him—Good morning, Kusuo!—and then promptly let go because you understand he likes his space but you just can’t help but indulge a little bit.

However, none of the aforementioned events play out this Friday. You’re not on the street corner, not there to smile and fall in step with him. There’s no arm hugging or a bubbly greeting Saiki pretends he isn’t affected by. But the truth is that he is, the routine coming somewhat as a comfort, even at the price of sacrificing some of his beloved personal space. So when you’re nowhere to be found his brows furrow and he wonders where you are.

His steps slow until he comes to a complete stop. He wants to check up on you, sooner rather than later. There isn’t much time to delay if he wants to make it to school before the first bell, but this won’t take long. He crosses his eyes, activating his clairvoyance, and he centers in on you immediately. You’re still at home. You’re at home, and you’re sick.

A box of tissues rests on your nightstand and you’ve pulled your small trash can right next to it from where it usually stands by your door. You toss used tissues into it before nestling beneath your blankets, pulling it up to just below your chin and hugging it close in order to retain heat. Your breath evens out quickly and he can tell you’re asleep. Your body must be exhausted dealing with your cold, and he’s confident this is the way you will be the rest of the day—drifting in and out of sleep, dealing with the sniffles and congestion.

He blinks and loses sight of you and now he’s staring once more down the road. Readjusting his bag on his shoulder with a sigh, he resumes walking and thinks about his plans for the day. As it was the last day of the school week, he’d planned to go to Cafe Mami for coffee jelly to celebrate. But now that he’s learned you’re sick in bed, he’d have to make adjustments. Momentarily he debates if that’s really necessary. You probably wouldn’t want visitors in the state you’re in, and knowing you, you’d tell him to go to the cafe without you to enjoy himself anyway. The thought is tempting, truly, yet he can’t shake the urge to check on you.

It feels less like an obligation and more like a simple desire of his own to make sure you’re okay. Saiki shakes his head, more amused than frustrated. There’s no one else for whom he would so willingly do this, or much else, for, and he doesn’t think he’d ever tell you because you’ll tease him the way you are wont to do whenever his facade cracks and he’ll let you have your fun because when you ask if you’re really so different as to make him act this way, the answer is, well, yes. You are.

He imagines this scenario and the corner of his lips lifts in a small smile. Good grief. You could be quite the handful.

“Hey, Saiki!”

Nendo’s voice is entirely too loud for the morning and Saiki heaves another sigh, one that sounds as though it belongs at the end of the day and not the beginning. Nendo is joined close behind by Kaidou and Kuboyasu, and they easily fill the silence with discussions about going to get ramen after class and the latest movements of the Dark Reunion. Saiki really only picks up words here and there that allude to the topic of conversation but it doesn’t require his full attention. It’s the same song and dance every morning.

The commotion once he arrives at school is much the same. During lectures he is afforded the temporary reprieve from having his ears talked off, since the only one speaking is the teacher, but at breaks, the noise resumes, and though he always stays sitting at his desk, in hopes the others will get the hint that he’s uninterested in chatting, they inevitably crowd themselves around it, until he is right in the middle.

Hairo has outlined a new workout regimen and in his louder than normal volume of speaking he shares it. He’s going to start it today, and if anyone wants to join, they’re more than welcome. It doesn’t look like anyone wants to take the offer, which is expected. Hairo’s exercise routines were… a little extreme.

In any case, Hairo is nonplussed by the lack of enthusiasm from everyone else and remarks he can’t wait for the end of the school day.

“I think I’ve been losing muscle tone,” he laments, and he complements this statement with a casual flex of his arm, more so to point out the specific areas he thinks are getting soft rather than to show off, but even if he isn’t trying, his biceps are bulging and if his sleeves hadn’t been rolled up, they would have torn.

Saiki’s brow raises. Yeah… I don’t think that’s an issue for you, Hairo.

“I’ve just finished installing an indoor gym at my home, you know.”

Everyone turns to find Saiko has entered into the circle, a smug smirk on his face. When had he gotten here? Really it’s only Hairo who has any sort of reaction to this, eyes practically sparkling imagining the machines and equipment (or maybe that’s just the glare from the fluorescent classroom lights). All the same, Saiko relishes the attention, boasting of the privacy and space and how really, it’s so much easier to be productive if there’s no one else there but Saiki can only wonder if Saiko even works out at all. He doesn’t remember that being mentioned, and Saiki is nothing if not detail oriented.

Saiki doesn’t have long to ponder over this (not that it would’ve continued much longer because he doesn’t actually care about whether Saiko exercises or just set up a gym in his house to brag) before Nendo asks where you are.

Had he just noticed? You always join them on their walk in the morning. But Saiki can’t say he’s surprised it took this long. What he is surprised about is that Nendo had noticed in the first place.

“Oh that’s right,” Kuboyasu adds. “I thought she just went ahead of us today.”

Yumehara informs them of your whereabouts before Saiki does. “She texted me this morning she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed home.” Her phone dings with a new message and she glances at it, then looks back up. “But she says she’s a little more awake now!”

“It’s the Dark Reunion.” Kaidou’s sudden interjection draws everyone’s attention. He clenches his right fist, staring at the bandages wrapped around it. “They’re trying to get to me by going after my friends!”

Saiki remains expressionless but if he didn’t have such good control he would’ve rolled his eyes. Or maybe she just has a cold.

Upon Kaidou’s claim that a secret society is responsible for your illness, Saiki picks up Yumehara’s thoughts: I wish I was the one Kaidou was so worried about! Maybe if I got sick he’d worry about me too! Getting sick to grab Kaidou’s attention? That’s… going overboard, but Saiki can’t find it in him to be shocked, considering from whose mind this speculation has sprung.

“Poor [Name],” Teruhashi says, kind as always. She sets an index finger on her chin, gaze momentarily aimed upwards as she thinks. “I was about to suggest we all go to the cafe after school today and I wish she could join.”

This gives Saiki pause. Wait. The cafe?

“That sounds like a great idea!” Yumehara declares. Again Saiki hears her thoughts: If we go, I need to do my best sit next to Kaidou!

Whether a visit to Cafe Mami comes across as a good idea because it’s a fun way to celebrate the end of the school week or simply because Teruhashi suggested it, Saiki doesn’t know, but one by one the murmurs of assent resound through the group and he barely contains a relieved huff. He’d already changed his own plans from visiting the cafe to seeing you instead, and it’s a good thing too since it’s apparent his alone time would’ve been ruined. Now he has an excuse not to stick around.

Once the final bell rings, they begin their walk into town towards the cafe. The sidewalk feels crowded with all of them on it, and they have to split into pairs to keep the opposite side of the sidewalk free for people going the other way. Among comments from everyone else about how hungry they are, Saiki makes known his intention to just pick up food before leaving. There’s somewhere he needs to be.

“You’re going to go make sure [Name] is doing okay!” Teruhashi exclaims. It’s a statement, not a question. “That’s sweet of you.”

Saiki shrugs. “Sweet” is not the first word he would associate with his actions. It just seems like common sense to check on you. You’d looked miserable this morning, but he takes your message to Yumehara earlier as a good sign that you’re improving, slowly and surely. Still, he’d be more comfortable seeing you himself. He hadn’t gotten any other chances today to use his clairvoyance, but at least it wouldn’t be long now until he’d be heading to your house.

Chisato is working today and she seats everyone. Saiki goes directly to the counter to place his order—coffee jelly for him and strawberry mochi for you—and he stands off to the side while waiting for the treats to be packed. The others are sitting on the far side of the cafe (in his peripherals he sees Yumehara has taken a seat right next to Kaidou) but he can hear them clear as day discussing what food they should order. Yes, he’s certainly glad he won’t be sticking around. Spending Friday in the midst of that noise is far from ideal.

Holding the bag of coffee jelly and mochi in one hand, Saiki uses the other to push open the door, the bell jingling gently, and someone, Nendo it sounds like, raises their voice to shout across the room: Seeya later, Saiki! Then the door closes behind him, and all he can hear is the footsteps of other pedestrians and the low whoosh of cars.

He exhales slowly. Peace at last. He proceeds in the direction of your home, and when he thinks to himself that any longer and his ears might’ve begun to bleed, he’s only half joking.

In the neighborhood it’s much quieter, the only person he passes being someone walking their dog, and only a couple of cars drive past. He knocks on the door and he assumes you’re in your room and so it will take some time for you to open it, but you’re there faster than he expects. You open it just wide enough to stand in the gap, and immediately he notices the fatigue in your eyes. When you realize it’s him, they light up, and the fatigue fails to take away from the brightness of your smile as you open the door wider.

“Kusuo!”

Inside, he sees you’ve moved downstairs to the living room. That’s why you’d answered the door so quickly. There’s a pile of blankets on the couch and a tissue box on the coffee table. The television is on and playing an animation. He doesn’t recognize it, but it must be one of the new ones you mentioned wanting to watch. However, you’re not interested in it now that he's here and you grab the remote to turn down the volume.

“I thought you were going to the cafe today,” you state, head tilting.

Saiki shakes his head. Change of plans. Instead I brought the cafe to us. He holds up the bag of food and doesn’t have to tell you what’s in it. You squeal in delight that he’s come bearing treats, but the sound is a little raspy and awkward due to your sore throat. It’s still easier on Saiki’s ears than the earlier commotion he’d been surrounded with and, if he’s honest, it’s cute.

You plop down on the couch and wait as he joins you. He unties the bag and opens the box, first taking out the packaged pink mochi and handing it to you. Then he grabs his coffee jelly and the plastic spoon it came with before settling back against the cushions.

You sit cross-legged facing him and bite into your soft and squishy treat, humming delightedly. “Thanks, Kusuo.”  

Saiki chews a mouthful of coffee jelly and glances at you.

You grin and hold up the mochi. “For the snack and for coming to see me.”

He shrugs because it’s no big deal. Or, well, he tries to play it off like it’s no big deal. But you know him better than that, better than most others do, and don’t brush it off so quickly. You breathe out dramatically and set a hand on your chest.

“What must I have done for Kusuo Saiki to give up his quiet time for me?” Then you giggle, and  it’s punctuated at the end by a sniffle.

He tells you there would’ve been no quiet time at the cafe since the others had also decided to go, and that you’re much better company. Even when I’m sneezy? you ask him, and he chuckles. Yes, even when you’re sneezy.

His remark about coming to see you because he’d prefer to be here and not at the cafe with the rest of your friends is merely part of the truth. The rest of it is that he did genuinely want to check on you to make sure you were okay. Though to give this a voice felt like too much for someone typically so reserved in his feelings, but you understand perfectly fine as you smile softly. You’re appreciative of his actions, and it would seem Teruhashi had been right about them, for you murmur that he reminds you of the mochi you’re eating: You’re so sweet!

Grabbing your mug from the coffee table, you frown when you see it’s empty. “I ran out of tea.”

Saiki sets the spoon and now empty container back in the box then holds his hand out. You blink, momentarily confused, but when it registers what he’s doing, you give him the mug. As he stands to make his way into the kitchen, you call after him.

“Thank you!”  

Having been to your house a number of times already, he knows where everything is and starts brewing a fresh cup of tea. You’ve turned the volume up on the television again, but you have to rewind to return of the spot you were at before he’d arrived. Once he comes back with a filled mug, instead of allowing it to continue to play, you pause your show.

You’d snuggled beneath the blankets and have to finagle your arms out of the multiple layers to take the mug from him. You say thanks again and blow gently at the tendrils of steam floating from it. The ceramic is warm in the palms of your hands and you sigh contentedly.

“Sorry I’m a little high maintenance today,” you apologize suddenly. “I’d make the tea myself but I just have such little energy…”

Saiki wishes you wouldn’t apologize because there’s nothing to be sorry for. So he tells you as much. Don’t apologize. Besides, he’d offered to make that tea, and if you wanted soup, he’d offer to make that too. He does understand where you come from, however. You tend to be more independent, opting to do things yourself, and you also know his propensity for being alone and needing space. As such, you’re careful not to be overbearing, and the idea of Saiki doing even little tasks like brewing you tea bothers you.

It’s endearing, the level of care you take to make sure he’s comfortable too, but when he says you’re far from high maintenance, he means it. You immediately understand what he’s implying and laugh before scooting closer and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Okay, point made,” you concede. With a small smile, Saiki grabs the remote you’d tossed down on the couch and presses play.

He would struggle to call you high maintenance on any day considering who your friends are.  They’re loud and all over the place, practically bouncing off the walls. Life could hardly be tranquil when around them and their antics. It’s the total opposite of Saiki, who values calm and silence. If they were high maintenance, he was low maintenance. That’s the way he prefers to be, existing in relative quiet and as close to mediocrity as he can muster. But he can't say he’s opposed to the occasional interruption to the otherwise mundane, especially where it concerns you. You’re not to be found on one side or the other, but right in the middle, and to Saiki, you are just right.

[thevirgodoll]

hi! i was wondering if you have any tips to stay organized and stay on task? i’ve been doing a short online course this year and have really struggled to ACTUALLY bring myself to do the work, as assignments and lessons are not under any time constraints i just don’t do it. i also have adhd so get bored or distracted easily. do you have any tips for me?

This is really close to me because I also have ADHD. I have both inattentive and hyperactive type. *As a result, this academic tip guide will be a guide for people with ADHD and not neurotypical people, without disability. There is a difference.*

I am doing online as well this semester.

1. I create a schedule. If I do not create a schedule, I will be unproductive the entire day. So, what will help you is to do things in orderly fashion.

For example, at 12p - I will do this assignment/watch this lecture. You have to dictate what time you’re doing everything. Then, you also have to block out technology distractions while you are working. 

-> Even if you’ve gotten halfway through the day with no schedule, write down or block off times on your digital calendar for what you are going to do at each time. ADHD is easier to tackle if you break things down into smaller tasks.

*Pro tip that I almost forgot: before you do anything, wear your day clothes. Don’t wear pajamas. Actually getting dressed or even doing hair/makeup changes things.

2. Download the Forest app after you have created your schedule. I consistently recommend this because it works in increasing productivity. It allows you to set it for however long you’re doing this task, say 30 minutes.

-> Why?: It will block all apps on your phone for (insert time here) to plant a tree, and if you leave the app your “tree” will die. Eventually, the more sessions you do, the more points you will gain to plant different plants, and eventually plant real trees around the world.

3. Have a list (& a planner) as well. Not only is the schedule creating structure, but the list creates even more structure so you know what you need to get done for the day. It also helps you not fall victim to the classic symptom of forgetting. Each day, you should write down what you WANT to get done and create your own times to look at lecture and assignments. Have goals for the day.

For example: complete assignment 2.

If you do not have expectations with yourself before the day begins, your ADHD will kind of take over and do something else. I have structure to my day. I set a timer to wake up at the same time. I take my ADHD medicine 90 minutes before my final wake up time, and I do my morning routine once it kicks in. Having the same routine helps.

-> Focus on your goals. Don’t be super harsh about the times.

-> Don’t overwhelm with how many things on to do list. Again, break it up into small tasks. For example, one part being: Wash dishes or fold laundry. It makes it less overwhelming to your brain and gives you a choice of which task. Typical non ADHD people just tell you to prioritize tasks but that doesn’t work for us. Do it in a random order and it gets the job done.

4. TAKE BREAKS! The other side to this is making sure that you give yourself adequate breaks.

*For hyperfocus, wait til your hyperfocus has started to wear off. Use it to your advantage for peak productivity. It is no joke.*

-> The misconception is that some people with ADHD are lazy and as a result, some ADHDers won’t take breaks. You can take a break. Healthy, long breaks do more for you long term.

-> Have a timer set. For example, after a 45 minute session or an hour session, I will take a break to do another task that has nothing to do with studying, like laundry, eating a snack, or stretching. Then after that task is done, I will go back to studying.

5. Have a workspace. Only do work at this space. I do schoolwork at my living room table and it is perfect. I do not study in my room because that is my sanctuary for relaxation and rest, not productivity. Make an effort to make the workspace clean, with your supplies - laptop, notebooks, pens, etc - readily available.

-> Once I get to my workspace, everything for the morning is already done. I’ve done my morning routine, so all there is left to do is hydrate while I study.

6. Recognize if you have adequate energy to do the task. Sometimes, with ADHD you may neglect your needs. If you are not getting enough rest, here are some tips:

•Bed should be for rest only.

•Blackout curtains

•Lavender essential oil, I have a diffuser but you can also put it on your pillow

•Background noise: pick what you want, lo fi music, rain sounds, binaural beats, singing bowls

•If all else fails, ADHD is often comorbid with other illnesses, meaning you could have a form of depression causing insomnia for example. This should be considered if you are having long term issues and symptoms.

7. Don’t overdo it. We are not neurotypical. Executive dysfunction is real - meaning our brains actually shut down when it perceives a task to be mundane.

-> You do not have to fit everything into one schedule for the sake of being “productive”. Each day should be what you know you can do, and there are different days to tackle different goals.

-> When you feel like you cannot continue, which is literally a symptom of ADHD, sit still for a few minutes.

8. Have a “What I Did Today” List. Because of how ADHD actually makes us feel, we don’t realize how much work we have put in. ADHD actually can be explained easily, we have about 2 dopamine workers showing up to work while most people are at maximum capacity. We are working overtime to do our best, even on medicine. So, acknowledging what we did today is good and encouraging, or at least reflecting in a journal.

9. Play music. It’s recommended to play study music without words because with ADHD we will submerge ourselves into the playlist of nostalgic 90s R&B. I recommend lo fi hip hop on YouTube, video game instrumentals, classical music, or jazz instrumentals. Whatever gets you going just do it!

General ADHD tips:

•Rewrite lecture notes and type the lecture notes.

•Color code with bright colors and pretty drawings or calligraphy

•Instead of telling yourself “I need to take notes” which usually leads to procrastination say “Rewrite lecture notes and emphasize main points” ... this is useful in your to do list but in everyday goals

•Generally try to get your assignments done ahead of time if there is structure to certain courses, if not, again, stick to the schedule. If you slip one day off your schedule then don’t beat yourself up. Breathe!!!

•Side effect of most ADHD meds is that you’re not hungry so buy easy things to eat like muscle milk or yogurt and granola or smoothies so you can sustain yourself

•Get a dry erase board to show what you need to do for the day and put it on the fridge with command strips

•To avoid forgetting things, put them at a table near the door where you leave your apartment/dorm/house.

•Don’t overthink the time it takes to get ready, often that’s why ADHDers are late. Better to be super early than late though - have a routine set so you know how long each task takes - for example “I know a shower takes me 15 mins, washing my face takes 60 seconds and a few more including sunscreen/moisturizer, etc...”

•In that same grain, set timers for going to the bathroom, showering, etc just in case you one day hyperfocus and push yourself too far

•Open the blinds!!!!

•Clean your room and tidy up your space. A cluttered space impacts your mental health in a really negative way. Your space reflects your mental state at times as well, so check in with yourself. Have a specific day where you know you’re going to clean, but ADHD sometimes gives us bursts of cleaning so take advantage of that as well.

•Anytime your water bottle empties refill it. Have your water bottle or mason jar next to your workspace, and drink 5-10 gulps. Seriously. ADHD depends a lot on hydration, especially if you are on medicine which naturally dehydrates you. If you do not stay hydrated, you’ll get that massive headache mid day and crash sooner. A lot of times, lack of productivity can be due to not drinking enough water.

•If you don’t take medication, then sometimes you may notice you love coffee, and that’s because it’s a stimulant. Too much of anything is not good, but balance it with water. If you’re going to use coffee to kinda “medicate” then do it close to when you’re going to be productive.

•Setting yourself up to do a task rather than envisioning the overwhelming act of doing the entire action. “Okay, lets just get up and get the first step down, such as opening the laptop or wetting the toothbrush.” Baby steps.

•Take advantage of accommodations! Your college more than likely has an Office of Disability Services. Also, email your professors...they’re actually just as stressed as you about classes being online.

•Remember that you’re already trying as hard as you can, so don’t listen to the narrative of “try harder”, “you’re *r word*”, “you’re cheating by using medication”, “just do it,” “it’s easy,” “what’s so hard about it?” or “you’re lazy”. Anyone telling you that, even yourself, is wrong. And DO NOT allow anyone to be ableist, even yourself.

•Validate yourself. Don’t let anyone to do the “I experience that too”/“I know what you mean”/“we ALL have trouble with this!” and they don’t have ADHD. No. It’s our experience, it’s valid, and unlike anything on the planet. If you’re reading this and you don’t have ADHD - no, you do not experience any of the things in my next bullet point.

•Don’t be hard on yourself if you stumble along the way getting this right. ADHD completely changes your executive functioning.

We see the task, but our brain blocks it.

We have something marked down as “important” but our brain tosses it out in the “trash”.

We watch an entire episode of a show, but our brain ignored the entire thing. Our brain picks and chooses what is stimulating, our brain changes our interests.

We have sensory overload, we have no dopamine, we have bursts of curiosity that cannot be contained (often inconvenient) and if interrupted, our brains cannot take it.

People often discount how many things ADHD actually changes because it’s widely misunderstood. I want to take the time to acknowledge that ADHD, formerly known as simply ADD, has different types: primarily inattentive, primarily hyperactive-impulsive, or combined which is what I have. So it’s not “hyper” and “relatable”. It is also not a buzzword to use to describe things. I must put stereotypes and misrepresentations of ADHD to rest.

It impacts us emotionally as well, which most people don’t know... such as rejection dysphoria — extreme sensitivity to being criticized to where our brains self destruct. Our brains don’t regulate emotions well.

ADHDers - do not fall victim to how everyone else operates and call yourself a failure. We have to work twice as hard and the results actually come out brilliant especially with our determination and imaginative ideas that are also seen in autistic individuals, honorable mention!

There’s good days and bad days. There’s literal changes in thinking that other people do not experience. We all collectively know wouldn’t be who we are without ADHD, but we all recognize the challenges. However, it makes me happy to see messages like this so that I can make a difference and hopefully help one person with ADHD, especially of color, at a time stop being so hard on themselves. 💗

[shoichee]

Hi, congrats on 100!! Could I please request 27 for Kasamatsu? Thank you very much, and good luck on your finals! :D

Kasamatsu x Reader

27. “If we get caught I’m blaming you”

Word Count: 4416

prompt list here

Note: the Replace novel starring the Kaijō team was a HUGE inspiration for this, and dear anon who requested this, I hope you’re still around;; I’m sorry it took so long EEEEE But yes! I did okay on my finals anon! I hope you’re doing well too~

@knb-kreations

»»—————　☼　—————««

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Look it’ll be quick… n-no one’s here as far as I know.”

“B-But…”

“J-Just… be quiet for a s-second, okay?”

“H-H-Huh?! Ah…”

Huh? Kise stopped himself before leaning closer to the edge of the building, slightly doubting his ears. Wasn’t that Senpai’s voice? With someone else…? Alone?

“Oh come on, why are you even block the wa—oh, ohhhhhh, are there any cute girls nearby?—”

“Shh,” Kise hissed, harshly waving his hand over Moriyama’s face to give a signal to stay quiet. “Listen…”

“A-Are you done, Kasamatsu-san…?”

“I-I-I… uh, just…um…”

Kise and Moriyama shared a look of shock… then registration… and finally a look of that spelled nothing but trouble. Immediately, they both simultaneously crouched to squat and share their “realizations” together in hushed whispers.

“Quick—when was the last time Senpai talked to anyone outside of basketball?”

“Hmmmmmm, certainly none of the girls I’ve tried to approach.”

“No, that’s obviously not what I meant!” Kise said, facepalming. “Anyone in your year that he’s been talking to? Maybe anyone in class?” Moriyama continued to hum in deep concentration before he lifted his index finger in a “eureka” moment.

“He’s been talking to (y/n)-san in the hallways recently!” he quietly exclaims, pounding his fist against his open palm to emphasize. “Though their conversations have sounded nothing remotely romantic. No charm, I say.” He struck a pose after to imply that he himself was the charismatic individual.

“.... Right,” he deadpanned, expecting nothing less from his quite… eccentric upperclassman. “Welp, now that we narrowed it down who he might be talking to, I don’t wanna spy on them… but I’m really curious if it’s really this (y/n)-san you mentioned.”

“Well,” Moriyama pouted with a grumble. “One peek wouldn’t hurt.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Kise cautiously scans his surroundings and gauges the situation “clear” to slowly peer from behind the corner of the building, where both of them had been seeking shelter from for the past several minutes. Moriyama follows suit, poking his head out just underneath Kise to see.

Kasamatsu’s back mostly covered your figure, but the view of what was happening did not slip by either Kaijō players’ eyes. He had his arms partially around your head while you were pressed up against his chest. You were gripping onto his loose blazer on his sides to presumably stabilize yourself while Kasamatsu was… fiddling with something on top of your hair? Even so, there’s no denying that the both of you were currently very, very physically close.

“Look… d-does it really take that long to take out petals from hair strands?” you mumbled, looking up at Kasamatsu’s face while trying not to move your head to avoid disrupting his “handiwork.” “I can do this myself....”

“W-W-Well, you can’t risk yourself being unkempt when you go back to class.” Kasamatsu gave a poor attempt at trying to lecture you, judging from his stammers and the way he slightly turns his head to the side to avoid your curious scrutiny. “It’s more thorough this… way. It’s the w-week where these blossoms fall rampantly… you have to be careful where you’re walking under…” In turning his face slightly towards Kise’s and Moriyama’s direction, his exposed flushed face puts the cherry blossom trees around them to shame.

So that’s what he was doing. Kise narrowed his eyes in pity at his captain, and Moriyama expressed a similar expression at Kasamatsu’s struggles. The poor captain’s hands were shaking non-stop. Not only that, he’s been darting his eyes everywhere since you’ve been gazing up at him from below. No wonder he’s been standing there unable to quickly pluck off the petals.

“Should we leave our captain alone to let him lead his own destiny?”

“What are you even talking about, Moriyama-se—”

“W-Whoa!! What a(l)e you [guys doing] he(l)e? Why a(l)e you sneaking a(l)ound (r)ike that?”

Kise and Moriyama instantly whip their heads behind in a panic, seeing a curious Hayakawa jogging up to be with his teammates, and the both instantly pounce on the poor rebound player to slap desperate hands over his mouth.

“Sh-Shhhhhhhhh!”

“Mrmpgh—?!! Lef—What [is going] on?”

“Hayakawa-senpai, please—just be quiet for a sec!”

The ruckus causes Kasamatsu and you to break out of the oddly intimate moment to face towards the direction of the sudden noises. After looking at each other questionably, albeit briefly and with stiff eye contact, there was an unspoken consensus for you two to investigate behind the corner of the building. Imagine both of you guys’ surprise when you two see a tangle of limbs between the Kaijō starter players. Kobori somehow arrived prior, separating poor Hayakawa from his two assailants.

“What… What the hell are you guys doing?!”

“Kasamatsu-senpai!! Is it t(l)ue [that you] and (y/n)-san a(l)e da—mrmf—!”

“Ahaha… we didn’t expect to see you here, Senpai~” Kise smiles with a slight grimace, hand still firm on Hayakawa’s mouth.

“It must be fate, yes surely!” Moriyama confidently speaks, flipping his fringe. Both Kise and Moriyama drop Hayakawa and straighten themselves up. “How else would we encounter such a situation as unique as this?”

“Why are you all here?” Kasamatsu sputters indignantly, but everyone (except you) saw how horrendously red his face was. You peek out from behind his back curiously, noting how Kasamatsu did a 180 in his personality compared to whenever he spoke with you.

“Kasamatsu-san… are they your teammates? You seem very close with them.”

“That’s—”

“Now, now, Kasamatsu-san… we’re only here because we were concerned where you went is all,” Kobori reassures a flustered captain. Kise only stares at him incredulously, but it seems that Kasamatsu, as usual, buys into Kobori’s naivete.

“I see…”

“Wow… the fact that your entire group came to look for you is very sweet of them,” you chime. “They really care for you, Kasamatsu-san…” When you elbow him at his ribs playfully, he immediately straightened himself like a plank.

“N-Nn.”

“Well… it’s almost time for class, so I have to go, see you all!”

“W-Wait, your… uh, hair, um—”

“I can get out the rest of the petals in the restroom, but thank you for trying! I’ll see you later!”

“R-Right…” He puts up his hand in a shy wave as you dash away, but he immediately drops it once you are out of the vicinity to hound on his teammates. “Were you watching this entire time? And stop with the looks—that’s creepy as hell!”

“Sooooooo…”

“Senpai, could it be that you and…”

“Kasamatsu-senpai! I’m (l)ooting fo(l) you!”

“N-N-No!!” he denies, ready to hold an iron fist to stop their antics, but Kobori gently holds onto his raised arm.

“Alright, let’s calm down a bit,” Kobori reasons with a placid smile. “I’m sure we’re all a bit curious because you hardly talk to anyone outside of basketball, right?”

“Kobori…”

“Have you heard of the prerequisites of the key elements of the blooming spring, Kasamatsu?” Moriyama asks, immediately drawing confused looks towards the 3rd-year.

“Moriyama-senpai, we have no clue what you’re talking about,” Kise says, asking the question that’s occupying everyone's mind.

“The key elements…! In the season of new birth, to enrich the experience, they are ‘hanami,’ ‘plums,’ and ‘spring cleaning!’ Of course, the prerequisite to these would be…”

“Please stop—”

“... to have a cute date.”

“... This is ridiculous,” Kasamatsu says irritatedly. “I’m going to class.” He immediately speed-walks to the adjacent building, leaving a scheming group behind.

“You know, if it’s true that he does like (y/n)-san, shouldn’t we help him? It’s the least we can do for our captain,” Kobori suggested.

“That sounds too troublesome,” Kise frowns, averting his gaze to also start to walk away, but Hayakawa immediately latches to his arm to pull him back.

“Don’t be (r)ike that! We have to do this as a team effo(l)t!”

“How did it become like this?!”

“Well…” Moriyama audibly ponders, stroking his chin. “If we make this successful for Kasamatsu, perhaps this can be a template for our own love lives! A sign that we will meet our fated ones this spring!”

“Yes, yes! Mo(l)iyama-senpai is abso(r)ute(r)y (l)ight!”

Oh god, Kise mentally sighs. What has he gotten himself into?

———

“Why are you guys surrounding me like that? Did you not hear me say that we have to change quickly? We can’t have the lockers for long today, considering that the janitor will come to do their routine clean-ups.”

“According to my online research,” Moriyama states, “this mint-scented deodorant will guarantee mutual attraction from the person you like.”

“Wha—?”

“Ignoring what Moriyama-senpai said,” Kise elaborates, scratching his head. “Is it really true that you like (y/n)-san? Otherwise, they’ll keep getting the wrong idea, senpai.”

Kasamatsu gapes like a fish, pulling his shirt collar as he starts to sweat and flush.

“Kise! Be a bit tactfu(r)! You do not unde(l)stand how to app(l)oach this!”

“What’s there to understand, Hayakawa-senpai!? It’s better to be direct about this, or otherwise we’ll be doing this for nothing!”

“Kise may be right,” Moriyama muses. “To be honest gives a feeling of a fresh start in the spring. Kasamatsu, you should follow this example and leave all the baggage behind to obtain a new start.” Kasamatsu could only stand there glued to his spot as his teammates continued to corner him, blocking any possible route to the locker exit.

“I… I…” he gulps. “Th—... that’s… I… like…” His voice dwindles to the softest whisper, but it easily resonates throughout the locker room, where the team had fallen silent in straining to hear and hang onto his every syllable.

“So you do like (y/n)-san,” Moriyama exclaimed, the first one to break the silence. “I see, I didn’t think they were your type.”

“H-Hey…?! Can you not say it like that!?”

“You can’t distort the truth, though. Anyways, you should chat with (y/n)-san nicely.”

“I already do!!” Kasamatsu half-shouts, but he immediately bows his head down shyly. “Wh-What’s a… good topic, you think… to talk to (y/n)-san…?”

“Huh? Just normal topics,” Kise replies, not sure what Kasamatsu meant by the question.

“What’s… normal?”

“Just talk to them like you’ve always done, senpai.”

“Y-Yes, but… h-how can I talk to hint that I l-l-l-like… never mind this is hopeless—”

“Ask them to come watch ou(l) next match [and have] (y/n)-san chee(l) fo(l) you!!”

“N-No! Anyone would run away from that!”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted when the locker doors opened with a bang, with a very weary janitor standing with his equipment on standby. With a flurry of apologies to the janitor, Kasamatsu recovers himself and ushers everyone out before bidding him a good evening. Walking out of campus several minutes later in silence, Kobori breaks the silence.

“Why don’t we help you, Kasamatsu? Maybe through different methods you will find the best way to ask for a date. Perhaps asking for a cup of tea would be sufficient…?”

“I’m not gonna involve myself with this! No way in hell!”

“Senpai, so you’re just gonna wait and let it fester—u-uwah?!” Moriyama immediately sprays the mint-scented deodorant down Kise’s back to silence him before turning back to Kasamatsu with a straight face.

“What if someone else steals (y/n)-san away for their own elements of spring? After all, it is the perfect atmosphere for them to communicate with the person you like with pickup techniques, with high chances of success.”

“N-No way (y/n)-san would just go along with a random stranger!”

“Who knows? Maybe they’re more suave and have that particular charisma that they’re secretly weak to.”

“Moriyama-senpai, you might be going too far…”

“Kasamatsu, he’s right though, if you hang around (y/n)-san more, not only would you learn more about them, but you’ll protect them from potential unwanted people.” Kobori’s calm voice rang louder above the clamors of the starter players, and everyone immediately looked to Kasamatsu for his response. Kise mentally sighs at how Kobori always manages to misinterpret Moriyama’s words.

“Fine—but only to make sure (y/n)-san will be safe! Don’t get any funny ideas!”

———

Praise. Make them laugh. Praise. Make them laugh. Say something interesting. Say something interesting. Praise. Use a normal topic.

Kasamatsu stands at his usual spot, waiting for you to leave class and meet up with him after school. Only this time, his hands grow clammy, his thick brows deeply furrowed as he wills himself to stop shaking. His teammates spying on him from behind the hallway corner certainly wasn’t helping him either.

“I told you, there’s no way I’m gonna involve myself with this!”

“Come on, Kasamatsu,” Moriyama sighed, shaking the mint-scented deodorant on hand. “We talked about this yesterday. You agreed to this, remember?”

“It was to make sure no one weird bothers (y/n)-san! Why do I have to go along with this?!”

“So you’re fine if I hold (y/n)-san’s hand in the name of destiny…”

“To hell with that!—argh—you!”

Moriyama immediately sprayed the can on the captain’s neck, watching his spine jolt and jump before he was met with an intense glare.

“You’re the captain, right? Come on, you have to show us how it’s done. We all want to see the ways to push the boundaries of romance. Who would lead us if you don’t?”

“What kinda—”

“I ag(l)ee with Mo(l)iyama-senpai! Take the (r)ead, Kasamatsu-senpai!”

“Wouldn’t Kise be someone better to learn from if you wanted to learn how to hit on people?!”

“Senpai, I’ve never done such a thing in my entire life.”

“Kasamatsu, I’m sure Moriyama is just telling you how much we all admire and look up to you. Naturally, we want to see how our captain fares in these situations. Besides, as a team, if something happens, we’ll be there to cover up for you.”

“Well… if you put it like that Kobori… all I have to do is talk to (y/n)-san… right?”

“That’s the spi(l)it!”

“... Kasamatsu-san? Helloooooo…?”

You wave a hand repeatedly over his face, and he immediately blinks and flinches back when you pull him back to the present. He’d been standing still for the past five minutes.

“I-I-I-I…”

“Are you okay? You’re all tensed up… if something’s bothering you, wanna talk about it?”

“W-W-Well… wh-what’s… up.” Normal topic, normal topic.

“Well, nothing much really,” you say, smoothing out your blazer. “I got out the petals but barely made it to class in the nick of time!” You laugh at your own recollection, and he immediately flames a radiant flush.

“N-nn.”

“Is it me… or is our captain…. really, really stiff right now…”

“Shhh.”

You perk up at the noise and slightly tilt to the left of Kasamatsu to discern the source of the hushed whispers… only to spy a conspicuous group of basketball players. You merely raise a brow at your discovery, but you return your attention back to Kasamatsu before he notices your change in gaze. The Kaijō teammates were too busy shushing each other to notice your attention on them.

“Ah, yes! Kasamatsu-san, you just had your trigonometry test right? Those identities and proofs are always so difficult to remember… how do you think you did?”

“G-Good.”

“Wow, that was too quick of a response! I didn’t know you were that confident about it—obviously not a bad thing if you studied for it.”

“N-nn.” Come on, say something interesting. Interesting topic. Something you like. “U-U-Uh… w-weather…?”

“The weather…?” You look outside the window in confusion before you make a face of realization. “Oh! Like how’s the weather?”

“N-nn.”

“Well, it has been a bit windy with all those branches and leaves flying around, but I think it accompanies the refreshing atmosphere of spring very nicely, don’t you think?” You turn back to face Kasamatsu, who’s been slowly bowing his head down gradually more and more the entire time to avoid scrutiny.

“N-nn.”

“You’ve been… really quiet since lunch. I’m serious, if something happened… is there anything I can do to help?”

“Kasamatsu, take advantage of the elements of spring! The elements of spr—”

“Moriyama-senpai, shut… up…!”

“Hey—what are you—?”

“Wait!! Kise! Don’t push, [or else] we a(l)e gonna fa(r)(r)—!”

“Shit—”

Right on cue, the gradual leaning weight from the three players on Hayakawa at the bottom gave way, and everyone tumbled out smack dab into plain sight. Kobori was the only one who managed to break his fall and stayed behind the corner, holding onto Kise in a failed attempt to stop him from exposing his presence. Kasamatsu breaks out of his shy stupor and turns around to see awkward smiles and chuckles.

“Y-Y-You guys—?!”

“Ahaha… sorry Senpai… the floor was a bit… slippery?”

As Kasamatsu forgets about you in dropkicking Kise, you note how the other upperclassmen had their own little quirks in interacting with the captain. Seeing how assertive and gutsy he was compared to talking with you makes you feel unbelievably warm. Little did anyone know, you held a hand to your face as you turned away to let out a chortle before you collected yourself again.

“Ah, I guess I’ll be going now! Your practice will start soon right? I’m sure your friends were only waiting for you… Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Kasamatsu-san!”

“W-Wait—” Kasamatsu drops Kise from his collar before he turns to you, but in making eye contact he immediately loses courage again. “I-I-I… s-see… you.”

“Of course!” You give a close-eyed smile before you leave.

“You missed the opportunity to set up the atmosphere,” Moriyama sighs, staring wistfully at the mint-scented deodorant. “Was the mint scent not enough?”

“It was going fine until you crashed in!”

“Now, now, there’s always a next time…”

As the upperclassmen continue to bicker and banter (mostly one-sided from Kasamatsu’s end), Kise, who was dropped on the floor by Kasamatsu moments prior, silently stares at the direction you left. Did you leave because you knew how embarrassed Kasamatsu was from that incident?

———

For the next few days, Kasamatsu has been quite clipped with you, reduced to mere “nn’s” and “no’s” during your conversations, and Kise doesn’t know whether you’re just as oblivious as Kobori or whether you’re ignoring it to spare his remaining shreds of dignity. He mentally sighs at how oddly persistent Moriyama is about this even though the captain refused all of his ridiculous “suggestions” every time.

“I believe Moriyama is trying to help out Kasamatsu as a close friend,” Kobori had said, when Kise grumbled about his tenacity. “He just wants the best for him.”

Even so, Kise still heaves a sigh when he sees Moriyama and Hayakawa with an agitated Kasamatsu, knowing that whatever is going on won’t be smooth-sailing. He had no choice but to join them when Kobori sneaked up on him to sling an arm around his shoulders and called over the trio.

“Huh… what’s up with Kasamatsu-senpai?”

“Ou(l) captain is af(l)aid [because someone] da(l)ed to app(l)oach (y/n)-san (l)ight now!”

“Huh? Is that really a problem?” Kise shoots a tired look at the rebound player, but Moriyama solemnly sends a gaze to where he assumed was where you were at right now.

“I knew my online research would come in handy…! Someone also has the knowledge of taking advantage of the perfect atmosphere! Look at the intimacy shared between the two…! The undeniable auras exhibited by them, and elements of spring they embody together!”

“What the hell! No way!” Even through the denials, Kasamatsu looks visibly distressed about the possible “new revelations” between you and what looks to be a close companion of yours.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Senpai on this one, Moriyama-senpai.”

“(R)ook! They finished ta(r)king and (y/n)-san waved them [off with] a smi(r)e!” Kasamatsu whips his head at the speed of light to see you sending them off with the smile Hayakawa spoke of as your friend exits the campus gate. At his dilemma, Moriyama gently nudges his arm to encourage him to go talk to you.

“... According to my online research, talking under sunny weather with a fresh scent is the formula to having the desirable spring experience.”

“Oh shut up, will ya?” Kasamatsu mumbles half-heartedly, but he slowly walks in your direction before he stops to turn back. “You better not interrupt.”

“We [will be all] the way back he(l)e to suppo(l)t you!”

With a final sigh to expel his nerves, he gives a nervous smile to his teammates before coolly walking until you turn to face him once you hear his footsteps. Almost immediately though, his calmness easily dissipates into thin air once again, and his teammates only look on in dismay and worry from afar.

“Er…” Come on, just be direct. Talk normal.

“Kasamatsu-san?”

“Y-You were… d-datin—I mean t-talking, with… someone…”

“Oh, you saw? Yeah, I asked them to meet up with me here actually.”

“Is… that so?”

“Mmhm, I asked for their notes to compare to mine because I feel like I can’t get a hand on the subject sometimes.” Kasamatsu finally finds his voice for the first time in a while when the conversation finally re-enters familiar platonic territory.

“Was it… trigonometry? I did, um, do well on it last time, so…” Normal topics. Normal topics.

“I know,” you laugh. “You told me that a few days ago, remember?”

“W-W-Well…” He coughs to clear his throat and find his voice. “Y-You could’ve… a-a-asked—er…” You patiently wait for him to try to finish his sentence, and out of the corner of your eye you accidentally made eye contact with Kise from the distance.

Kise didn’t expect for you to notice the group even from a sizable distance away. He stayed still for a few seconds to make sure the shared eye contact wasn’t a fluke. Seeing how Kasamatsu was standing there like a statue again, he puts a flat hand next to his lips to discreetly mouth out:

He’s jealous.

To his surprise, you caught onto his cues, giving a subtle yet playful smile of your own before you carefully mouth out:

I know.

The others don’t seem to notice the secret exchange, all too focused on the poor captain bowing his head down out of extreme shyness. Kise doesn’t even know why he’s doing this, but perhaps Kobori was right that it’s only right for the team to help out their hardworking captain.

“Ah, Kasamatsu-san?”

“N-Nn?” He lifts his head up abruptly at the call of his name, and he turns red from mortification at the realization that he stood there like a dunce for the past several minutes. He doesn’t even have time to react to you stepping closer to him with an outstretched hand, and he stands motionless as you slightly fiddle with his cropped hair before you pull out a vivid cherry blossom petal.

“Remember what you told me?” you muse. “That ‘you can’t risk yourself being unkempt?’ After all, you’re right… it is the week where these blossoms fall rampantly… Must I also remind you to be careful where you’re walking under?”

At this point, Kasamatsu is sputtering like a broken engine, his mind barely functioning enough for him to think about putting a hand over his face in a desperate attempt to cover his frenzy.

“I, um, I…”

“Ah… can I ask you something first instead, Kasamatsu-san?” you gently interrupt him, and he flits his gaze back to you before staring at the ground again, and you took that as silent confirmation. “A-Are… are you free to go cherry blossom watching this weekend…?”

He snaps his head up in shock, only to see you slightly pink after that slight stutter in your question. It was your turn to avoid looking at his face.

“N-nn, I’m-I’m free.”

“Ah, that’s great…!” You muster your own courage to hold his clammy hands at his sides. “Can I ask to confirm if this is a romantic date between us?”

“Y-Yes,” he says in a hurry and you only laugh at his shyness. But his piercing eyes focus on your figure before he frees his hands from your loose clasp and reaches out to you, albeit with a slight shake in his hand still, before he clumsily takes out a petal from your hair. “It was… stuck.”

“See?” you shyly tease. “I knew it shouldn’t take you long to take out petals from hair.”

He completely lost his cool in front of you again.

You didn’t really care though… not when he looked absolutely endearing with the onslaught of petals settling on top of his head and shoulders to complement his flushed face.

———

Bonus:

“So are you two dating now?” Kise asks you. You both coincidentally met up at a hallway intersection the next week.

“Well, I think that’s a bit too fast,” you inwardly laugh. “You know how he is more than anyone.” Kise gives a light chuckle of his own before he asks you the question that’s been on his mind for a while.

“Hey (y/n)-senpai, how did you know Kasamatsu-senpai liked you?”

“Eh?”

“It was pretty clear from that time last week that you knew how he felt.”

“Ah… well, remember when he was… trying… to tidy up my hair? When you all spied on us?” you say, continuing when Kise gives a slightly sheepish nod. “It felt… different from how we normally talked. I’m sure he felt it harder than I did. I’ve always been nervous talking to him, but… seeing him so flustered and shy like that made me connect the dots, and then, I became more at ease and knew to be patient, realizing that he does hold a degree of feelings for me. I just didn’t know when was the right time for us to take it a step further.”

“I see. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I must say, please send my thanks for the rest of the team. I think without you guys, this wouldn’t have happened as smoothly… or quickly.” At your words, Kise only sweatdrops as he remembers Moriyama’s antics, Hayakawa’s over-enthusiasm, and Kobori’s good-natured naivete.

“I’ll… send your regards to them.”

“... Why do you look so hesitant?”

———

End note: the cherry blossom falling season only occurs in the first to second week of April, which would conflict with the timeline of this scenario IRL. The Japanese new school year also coincides with this week, and as 3rd-years, Kasamatsu, Moriyama, Kobori, and the reader would be college freshmen instead. If I wrote it in terms of “last year” with the 3rd-years as 2nd-years, then Kise would still be in Teiko. So for convenience sake… ignore the “realism” in the setting for this :^)

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner…?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[mattsvn]

Nostalgia.

Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

Summary: A summer after graduation finds Iwaizumi Hajime halfway across the globe, sitting in a lecture hall and staring at a golden dome that reminds him of the world and his place in it. Or, the lack thereof.

Genre: Slight angst to fluff. Character introspection, self discovery!

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: none.

A/N: Guess who’s crying :smiley: Okay, so I got inspired by this tik tok, check it out, show the artist some love, and adding to another idea I had this came up, I hope you guys like it!  ALSO, that beautiful summary was suggested by @meliorist-midoriya​ !!!​ Repost from my old blog, this is on my favorite fics ever written hehe

There is something distinctive about the traces left by people in the places they inhabited. Whether intentional or not, to enter a house that was once occupied is to step into an unknown life, where all that remains are the lines drawn on the wall frames, with random dates, leaving a record of someone’s growth.

A part of the wall with a lighter color, where photographs once hung and the trace of old drawings on the wall could be seen even if you paid close attention. Seeing the home you had lived in for years empty, lifeless or without its distinctive smell caused an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe, how was that atmosphere created again, with spotless walls, perfect floors and the lack of human warmth?

You weren’t afraid of living alone, you were afraid of having a lonely life.

It was frightening to think that the apartment you had just bought might feel like it was inhabited by a ghost, with no trace that anyone had ever been there. One way or another you wanted to make that space, with only two rooms and one bathroom, feel like your home, even if it was just you, even if you would only live there for a few months.

So, amidst the worry about establishing a home and hundreds of paperwork, came the first day of college, one more step to adapt to, the breaking of a routine you had just begun to create.

There was no better way to start that school year than by being on time, so, at least for the first week, you tried to be there early enough. It gave you time to get through the school buildings, and to finish your coffee just before the first class started.

Thursday arrived, with the first class being Medieval Art, not usually a subject that caught the attention of many, so it was common to see empty seats. Still, as usual, you were planning on choosing the seat right next to the window, where the sunlight illuminated your notes, but that day, it seemed that someone already occupied that place.

You sat next to him, there was no reason not to share the table, didn’t pay attention to him, it seemed that the boy was taking a nap a few minutes before class, probably he had a class before that one, or he was just tired. The teacher settled into her seat, and you glanced sideways, only to see that the boy was still asleep, not moving.

“One day, the architect, Frank Gehry said: architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness” she began, while behind her appeared the image of a building you had heard too much about. “I think one of the best representations of this is Hagia Sofia” she continued, showing the image of that beautiful golden dome behind her, she kept talking.

As the guy next to you opened his eyes, sleepily he took a deep breath, concentrating on the image in front of him, with some concern he took the supplies from his backpack to take notes for the class, he seemed lost, confused and, in general, tired, like he was there by mistake, or, against his will.

Iwaizumi was not usually like this. Before moving to the United States, he had never been late for a class, he was the type of person who kept everything in order, always punctual, with notes in order and an impeccable grade. A role model in every sense of the word, student, athlete and perfect son.

But as soon as he arrived from his flight, tired to the bone and affected by jet lag, he slept as much as he could, only to wake up in the early morning, stunned by the different time zone he could not fall asleep at the right time, he still couldn’t get used to the food offered there, and he was unable to find the ingredients he would commonly use in Miyagi to eat.

People drove on the left seat, and the road was on the right side, they used to eat on the street without any concern, or on the way to their jobs and schools, nor did there seem to be manners in public transportation, at least no the ones he knew. There were words that confused him, and the symbols on the streets made his head spin.

People did not have the same habits he knew, and he noticed that after only a couple of days after moving in. By the time school started, Iwaizum was still trying to sleep at the time he was used to and didn’t make it until two or three in the morning, so, it resulted in waking up late and sleeping in between classes, he still wasn’t used to having his notes in English, so his handwriting looked weird, the teachers spoke too fast for him to understand, therefore, his notes were all over the place

Not to mention how unpunctual they were, he found himself a couple of times arriving late to class, only to find out that the teacher wasn’t there, and that it would probably take them twenty minutes more to arrive, and sometimes, they would cancel the class when you were already there, just because.

Even in the classes he looked forward the most, he found himself tired, bored, easily distracted, and he expected the same from this one, a subject he had taken only to complete his units. But, when he opened his eyes, he swore he had never seen anything as beautiful as that. A gorgeous dome of gleaming gold, with light streaming in through the windows and the distinctive marks of history on its walls.

It took him a few seconds to listen to the professor properly, as he was still impressed with what he saw on the projector, there was nothing that did not interest him, from the columns to that painting of the Virgin Mary, an impeccable marble floor, and, the mixture of both religions on its walls was perhaps what left him most curious of all that he had seen.

There was nothing like that in Japan, or at least not that he remembered. Byzantine architecture had that distinctive feature in which it left you mesmerized for a moment, he was so enraptured by it that he didn’t notice that there was someone sitting next to him, taking notes of the things the teacher was saying, with a slightly frown, concentrating, and different pens scattered around the table. The teacher continued talking, still detailing how a building created almost fifteen hundred years ago remained one of the finest constructions in human history.

Hagia Sofia, she read from the blackboard. He wrote down the title in a slightly disorganized way, along with the rest of the words on the board.

Hagia Sofia, meaning: holy wisdom. Constantinople, now Istanbul.

“Long before what we now know, the Byzantine Empire took place in what is now Istanbul, the capital of this empire is perhaps one of the most important historical and architectural sites of the Medieval Era, this was the largest known church  for about a thousand years. It has been used as a church, a mosque and now serves as a museum.” She explained, showing the various images of the building. ”There were two later constructions after this, one destroyed in a fire and the second in the Niká riots, then, in the year 532 construction began on what we now know as Hagia Sofia.“

"Wow” Iwazumi sighed, absently sketching the shape of the building.

“I won’t tell you much about this building, at least not for now,” said the teacher, pausing for a moment to look at the picture. “I want an essay on this topic, and I would like you to gather in pairs for it.” she asked them. “I just want your opinions and analysis on the things that are most important to you about the place and what you think is meant to be represented by these, either imagery or architecture. Your partner will be the person who is closest to you, starting with the two of you, at the bottom.”

You looked at Iwaizumi out of the corner of your eye, having to work with people you didn’t know was always a problem, but, you hoped it wouldn’t be like that this time. He also looked at you, a little relieved thinking that you would surely know something about Medieval Architecture, not like him, who felt totally lost in that new subject. Even so, he returned his gaze to the front, memorizing every detail of that dome in his mind.

The class continued, with the teacher talking about historical processes in the fifth century and the topics that would be taken throughout the course, Hajime could not help but see the excitement that certain topics caused you, especially with the mention of some gothic buildings. And so, in the blink of an eye, the class was over, and before he realized it, you were already grabbing your things to leave.

“My next class is Historical Theory, what’s yours? We can organize on the way” you said, looking at him for a second while you closed your backpack. Iwaizumi tried to put his belongings away as quickly as possible, but failed a bit with his clumsy movements. “What’s your major?"

"Oh, Sports Science,” he replied. Your reaction was as expected: confusion, what was a sports science major doing in a medieval art class? “All the other classes were busy and I needed some extra units.”

“Oh, I see” you nodded, walking out of the classroom with him walking beside you.

“What’s your major?” he asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t asked that before.

“Art History” you replied, with a smile. “By the way, my name is y/n” you said, extending your hand, he received it, still not used to the way people introduced themselves there, but little by little he was starting to adjust to it.

“Iwaizumi Hajime” he cleared his throat, here they speak by first names, not last names, you idiot, he said to himself in his mind. “Hajime.”

“So, Hajime, you didn’t organize your classes on time, you take naps before class, and you don’t know anything about Medieval Art” you jokingly commented. “We have quite a bit to learn, don’t you think?”

“Uh… y-yes” he nodded, stopping when you did, not even realizing how far he had walked. “I won’t let you do all the work, if that’s what you’re worried about” he assured, it seemed they were in front of the door to your next class the moment you stopped and looked at the door, Iwaizumi didn’t want to take up your time, but he had no idea what to say either.

“Well, how about we meet in the library later this week? You can give me your number so we can schedule the day” you hoped the professor wouldn’t come to the classroom while you were talking to  Iwaizumi, as he seemed like a very nice person, despite how nervous he was.

“Sure, I have the whole afternoon off tomorrow, is that okay?” you nodded, extending your phone to him so he could write down his number and name, to your luck, he returned it just in time.

“Sounds perfect to me, I’ll text you as soon as my class is over” you said, saying goodbye and entering just before the teacher, who closed the door behind himself.

Iwaizumi stared at the door for a few seconds, letting out a sigh,then, he walked to his next class. It felt awfully strange to walk around campus alone, with no one by his side. Maybe he had gotten too used to spending his free time with the rest of his friends in highschool, and, at times like these, where he was waiting for a message from a cute girl, he couldn’t help but think about how much he missed them.

He was alone, and that was terrifying.

Iwaizumi looked at his phone for the third time in an hour, the class, food chemistry, was just short of making him fall asleep, yet he couldn’t help but look at his phone and wonder at what point the cute girl in the Medieval Art class would send him a message.

She didn’t until almost four hours later, just as Iwaizumi had recently returned to his apartment and was working on a long assignment for the rest of the week. Ignoring the sound of a message at first, thinking it was probably Oikawa bugging him about some new thing he learned in Argentina, so, he didn’t look at his phone until a couple of minutes later, when a second message came through.

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, I’ve been a little busy, but this is my number!”

“My last class ends at 2:00 p.m., do you mind if I meet you at that time in the library?”

He answered almost immediately, regretting later for doing it so quickly, you look like a desperate idiot, he thought. To his luck, as soon as he locked the phone, the screen lit up again with the reply.

It seemed that after that things flowed perfectly, even though before he met her they would have seemed like inconveniences to him, now they looked as an opportunity. The professor for tomorrow’s class informed them that he was out of town, so his classes would start until the following week, which gave Iwaizumi a chance to continue with his homework calmly, and, to get ready to see the pretty girl the next day, maybe even sleep properly that night.

However, nothing went as he planned.

Again, he found himself staring at the ceiling at midnight, without any possibility of being able to fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work. That wasn’t his bed, nor his sheets or his favorite pillow, it wasn’t his wall or the window overlooking his backyard. As he stared at the empty, flat ceiling, he wondered why he couldn’t at least see a golden dome so he would have something to think about while he tried to sleep.

And so he woke up quite late, much later than he was used to. Maybe his body took the opportunity to recover all his lost energy, he had no idea. The only thing he knew was that he woke up thirty minutes before the agreed time with the pretty girl, and, it took fifteen minutes to get to the library from where he was.

He sent as many messages as he could while getting dressed and trying to look as presentable as possible. At least it wasn’t strange to see people running around campus, although it was in the first few weeks of school, where no one was really worried about anything.

“I told you I could wait a while” you mentioned, Iwaizumi was standing in front of her, trying to control his breathing, visibly agitated for having run all the way to the library. “Tell me you at least ate something” you murmured, in a way to accept his apology, then he sat on the free seat in front of you, trying to avoid that questioning.

“I can eat something later, sorry I was late” he apologized, again, he expected you to be upset, but you weren’t, instead, the first thing he saw was a reassuring smile, you hadn’t been more than ten minutes late, so, there was really no problem. “Again, I’m sorry, I was…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Iwaizumi. You were only ten minutes late, I’ve known people who take an hour to show up” the boy looked at the table for the first time, it was almost like the mess she had in yesterday’s class, only now it had several open books around it. “My class ended early so I went ahead to research an assignment I had, don’t you want to go get something to eat before we start?”

“I’d rather do this and then I can eat something, I wouldn’t want to waste your time even more” he replied, it was too obvious that he still didn’t quite master English, or maybe he did but he was quite embarrassed about how it was that he pronounced things. “I’ve never had this happen to me before, I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay? Seriously, but why are you late? If you say it doesn’t usually happen to you” Iwaizumi looked towards the window with a frown, he felt like he would spend an embarrassment for that, because, sleeping late was not a good excuse, actually, nothing was a good excuse for his lateness, but still, he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re coming in with a hangover?”

“No, no, not at all. It’s just… I’m still not used to the time change here and I’m used to sleeping at a totally different time” he said, though there was more to it.

The insomnia was only a collateral result of how he felt, and perhaps what kept him most irritable. Perhaps he had chosen that change too quickly, or the feeling was probably something that would fade with time. But he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t quite connected to reality, like he was living a strange dream. The routine he had worked on for years that kept him safe was gone, and was now out of his reach.

He missed going out every Tuesday for lunch with Oikawa, Makki and Mattsun. He missed walking to school and greeting his neighbors, or the way Oikawa’s older sister squeezed his cheeks, even though he said how much he detested it, he missed the karaoke he went to once a month and his mother’s food, hell, he even missed Oikawa’s obnoxious nephew.

“So, where are you from? Moving is hard enough, I can’t imagine doing it from another country” he looked at her, realizing she was genuinely concerned and curious, she meant it. The sincerity brought him calm, enough to say what he felt.

“Japan, I just got here a couple of weeks ago, I still don’t understand much and my English isn’t the best so I’m not having the best time” he pointed out, as he picked up his notebook, watching as she jotted something down on the computer, adding a document to start the essay. “Not to be rude, but your culture is really weird.”

“You don’t have to tell me, it is. But you end up getting used to it, don’t you? I find people’s behavior patterns depending on their culture interesting” Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed that there was already a book on Byzantine architecture on the table, which showed a picture of Hagia Sophia from the outside. “Besides, it’s normal to miss your hometown, don’t you think, what did you most like to do there?”

“Playing volleyball with my friends” he answered without hesitation, for it was true. He missed every detail of it, from the practices, to the coach yelling at his teammates to the games, even the ones he lost.

“Oh, were they on a team together?” she put the computer aside, devoting her full attention to him. Iwaizumi nodded, ready to talk about all the amazing things his team had. “Were you guys good?”

“Well, yes. At least within reason, we were. We never made it to nationals, but within our prefecture we were very good” he nodded, still feeling the bitter taste of defeat on the tip of his tongue as if it had happened yesterday, his last chance to go to nationals ended before it even started.

“And what position did you play?” he questioned, Iwaizumi picked up the book on the table solely to have something to distract himself with.

“Uh, wing spiker. I was the ‘ace’ of the school, but of course, I couldn’t be any of it without Oikawa."

"Oikawa?”

The conversation did not stop since then, between readings, corrections and stories about his high school, Iwaizumi did not even realize that almost three hours had passed, three hours in which he could not believe what he saw in images, despite all the fear he had, all the nostalgia that accumulated inside him, seeing that building in Constantinople brought him a peace that he could not manage to understand, no matter how much he wondered what was going on.

Although it didn’t compare to how the pretty girl explained things, he should probably stop referring to her as the pretty girl and start calling her by her name, as he ended up forgetting it, and every time she said his name, he blamed himself for not remembering hers. He learned everything he wanted to know in one afternoon, thanks to her, the semi domes, the atrium, every detail, structural and artistic there, he memorized it with her voice, melodious, calm, safe.

After making a couple of questions, he lost his fear of asking what he was seeing, because, as she told him, “no one knows everything, there will always be someone who knows something you don’t”. So, he ended up engaged in a conversation about the wonders of medieval architecture and no more than ten minutes later, the conversation drifted to the karaoke that his friends loved, or the park where he and Oikawa learned to play volleyball.

Life at the university became more bearable thanks to her, Iwaizumi heard the story of how she had just moved out of her parents’ house, how they also moved out of their house and the pain it caused her to leave the home she loved empty. She enjoyed knitting, watching movies and listening to new music all the time. In a couple of weeks, he discovered her favorite food, and the kind of clothes she liked best, the movies that made her cry and the ones that made her die laughing, and with each thing he learned, she asked him the same questions. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to answer, or what people used to say, it made him wonder if he seemed like a nice person or someone who would be interesting to spend time with.

Tuesdays of going out to eat became Tuesdays of organized movies in the dorms, once-a-month karaokes became visits to museums instead of his neighbors, now he was greeting his roommates every morning, now the cute girl in Medieval Art class was the one squeezing his cheeks, it seemed that, little by little, everything was starting to be as he knew it.

Or at least that’s what he thought

“But what do you like, Iwaizumi?” she asked him on a sunny afternoon where sunlight illuminated her room and there was a random movie on TV as the background noise, around her a lot of snacks and fried food, that’s what Saturdays were like, relaxed and sunny. “I almost feel like I know Oikawa like you do, but you don’t tell me much about yourself.”

“Huh?” he asked, doubtful, hadn’t he been talking about himself all that time, or had he only thought he was? “I don’t know what you want to know about me.”

“I want to know who you are, beyond all your friends and the people in your life.I know what Oikawa likes and how many fans he had or the perfect settings he did, but I want to know about you.” she told him.

She didn’t know if it was because the girl was an art enthusiast, or if she just hadn’t met someone who wanted to know more about him for her own pleasure, for what she felt was inexplicable.

“Well, well… with my team” he began, stopping the moment he saw the look on the girl’s face, who could only thus make him feel as if he were a scolded child. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, confused as to what it was he should say.

“Who are you, Iwaizumi, what do you like, what song do you like the most? I don’t want to know about other people, I want to know about you, about what makes you who you are.” She began, the moment only seemed more special with the way the sun was shining on her skin and her smile seemed to shine even brighter than it always did. “I know you’re a good teammate, a good son, a good friend, but who are you, what are the qualities that you have?”

He looked into her eyes, how many times hadn’t he stopped to look into those beautiful eyes that stole his breath, or those lips that said the cutest yet most painful things?“

"Iwaizumi. I want you to tell me the story that you have, like Hagia Sophia, do you remember all the marks that it has? the mix of everything that lies in you? There is so much history in who you are beyond your friends, I want to know if you are happy or if you like ice cream, how you react to things. I hope you understand me, it’s okay to like things that your friends do or showed you, but I don’t think it should be all that you are, so, who are you?”

Still not taking his eyes off her, he remembered every detail of the building he studied for weeks, the religious motifs and art on its walls, the history even in the broken parts of the floor, or those portions where the paint was completely gone. And, with tears in his eyes, he replied:

“I don’t know.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

And he really didn’t know, he had lived so long being a friend, son, teammate and neighbor that, little by little, without realizing it, he stopped prioritizing the things that to him and only to him made him happy.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do about it” she murmured in the same way, very close to him as if she were telling him a secret. “Find out who you are.”

And just like that, the first picture of the two of you decorated your wall, along with some paint smudges from a sunny afternoon, a canvas, and some brushes, and a volleyball mark at first. Two wrongs can make a right, your mother would say. You, in search of rebuilding your space, and he, in search of himself.

You couldn’t have picked a better time than that, or a better life than that.

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[woogyu]

10. “Stop being so cute.”

31. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

34. “You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?”

Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny // Requests; OPEN

notes; thank you so much for requesting! I really hope you like it! I think we all need some more sleepy fluffy dino in our lives. 

wc; ~824

You didn’t know who had decided that your dorm should follow the archaic rule of not allowing boys in after 10pm, but whoever it was, you really wanted to have a few words with them. You hated when it was time for Chan to leave, already dreading the cold empty space that would take his place.

“C’mon Channie” you said softly, running your fingers through your half-sleeping boyfriend’s hair. “It’s 9:50pm, you gotta go before they start doing the room checks” you said with a sigh, used to the familiar routine. Chan liked to push his luck and stay as long as possible. It had already gotten the two of you in trouble once, your dorm RA giving you a strike for him being there after hours. In your defence, it was only 10:02pm and he was leaving the dorm… really unfair of your RA to strike you for that.

“I don’t wanna” he whined, his arms that were wrapped around your waist tightening. You smile a little bit as he hid his face in the fabric of your shirt, almost as if he pretended to hide he could stay a bit longer. “I know baby, but I don’t want you to get in trouble again” you said soothingly. He let out a long sigh before reluctantly moving away from you to sit up.

You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh at the sight of Chan’s hair after his nap. He grimaced at you and pouted, reaching up to try and smooth it down.

“Stop being so cute.” You said before reaching out the last few misshapen pieces. “It’s harder to make you leave when you act all cute” you said, watching him gather up his things. 9:55pm, you still had 5 minutes. Standing up from your bed you followed him over to the door, gently reaching out and grasping his hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” you said, reaching up to rest your hand along his cheek and pull him into a sweet kiss. “Always” he responded with a comforting smile, squeezing your hand before slipping out into the hallway. Turning back to your room you sighed to yourself, another cold night sleeping alone.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Pssst…. Psssssst” you heard a hushed voice call, rousing you from whatever dream you had been having. Your blood ran cold at the thought of where the voice could be coming from? Was it a ghost, a murderer? You slowly pulled yourself out of bed, looking around the darkened room for the source of the sound.

“The window” you heard the voice whisper again, your heart racing. You slowly walked over and pulled the curtains back, terrified to see what was out there… but curious none the less.

You relaxed and clutched at your chest when you realized it was just Chan standing on your balcony… how he got up there a mystery, you were on the second floor.

“Let me in” he said quietly, gesturing to the lock along the side. You opened up the window for him, moving to the side so he could slide into your room.

“You almost gave me a heart attack” you hissed, grabbing your phone to see what time it was. “Chan it’s 4 am, what are you doing here? If we get caught, we’ll be in big trouble” you whisper lectured him. He effectively ended your rant by throwing his arms around you and burying his face into your hair.

“Couldn’t sleep, missed you, wanted to cuddle” he said, voice muffled by your hair. You smiled a bit and reached up to smooth a hand along his arm. How were you supposed to stay mad at him when he said things like that?

“You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?” you laughed, letting him move the two of you toward your bed and fall into the open sheets.

“I missed you” he whispered, shifting so that his back was against the bed and you were laying on his chest. “Didn’t wanna wait until morning” he explained, yawning as he began to draw random shapes and patterns along your back.

“Hmmm, the bed is so cold when you’re not here” you breathed, snuggling into him as your eyes fell closed. This was what you longed for every night, being able to fall asleep tangled up in each other. After a few moments of silence, you started to feel drowsy once again, the adrenaline from expecting a murderer outside your window fading away.

You started to drift off to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear and the soft feeling of his fingers drifting along your skin.

“I’m going to marry you one day.” You heard him whisper against the top of your head, the last thing you remember before drifting into a warm pleasant slumber. You dreamt about the life the two of you would create together and the memories you would one day share.