#they’re both quite literally the love and light of my life

[scowlsnwhiskey]

[poeticpascal]

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

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Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt. 

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that. 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet. 

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before. 

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.” 

“Will you really come with me?” 

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions. 

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs. 

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness. 

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed. 

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies. 

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’. 

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat. 

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!” 

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her. 

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?” 

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts. 

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window. 

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back. 

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.” 

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood. 

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression. 

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade. 

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face. 

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes. 

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?” 

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?” 

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them. 

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?” 

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands. 

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.” 

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.” 

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face. 

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it. 

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?” 

She must see the slight panic in your eyes,  as she quickly scrambles to reassure you. 

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!” 

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least. 

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence. 

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care. 

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you. 

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him. 

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly. 

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?” 

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you. 

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after. 

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. 

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry. 

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before. 

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway. 

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room. 

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further. 

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you. 

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers. 

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face. 

He doesn’t fight his, either. 

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it. 

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion. 

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two. 

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change. 

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.” 

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice. 

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry. 

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart. 

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.” 

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.” 

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard. 

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.” 

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own. 

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it. 

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment. 

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined. 

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

[juleswrites223]

Desi Girl

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x indian!reader

Context: Attending a desi wedding with bae

ps: No specific faceclaim, i got every image from pinterest. Desi girls need some love too and i love carlos so i thought he would be the perfect fit for this.

yourusername

yourusername shaadi (wedding) time!!

ps; not my shaadi, my sister's

tagged: carlossainz55

landonorris where's my invite

yourusername remember the time we invited you for diwali and you almost burned yourself bc YOU INSISTED TO LIGHT FIRECRACKERS WITH MY BROTHER landonorris no regrets yourusername you almost died dummy landonorris like i said no regrets carlossainz55 .... ynloversz i love how carlos is so used to their banter that he stays out of it lest he too face the wrath of y/n yncarlos tired older sister and annoying younger brother dynamic ynmylove the fact that she already has a younger brother who annoys tf outta her and now she gotta deal with lando and her lil bro mywifeyn my girl cant catch a break😭

charlesleclerc i wanted to come too...

yourusername you can come when we get married carlossainz55 what she said^^^

yummyyn they’re so in love😩😩😩

carlitoyn mother is mothering; daddy is daddying

ynwifey shes so so mommy😩

randohater yeah must be fun mooching off your millionaire bf

ynloversz oh someone hold me back im boutta get violent

mywifeyn its always these ignorant americans smh 🤦

ynmyqueen her family is hella rich and practically run almost everything in India so before hating on someone who is way richer and prettier than you, do your research cuz this is embarrassing for you.

f1wags

f1wags Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend Y/n Y/l/n in Jaipur, Rajasthan at her cousin sister's wedding. Both looking quite good in traditional indian outfit.

carlito55 OMG CARLOS IN A KURTA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT CARLOS IN A KURTA

carlyn MY JAW DROPPED. THEY LOOK SO GORGGGGG

Ynfanacc mother slaying as usual

yourusername

youusername with meri jaan (my life)🫶

tagged: carlossainz55

ynloversz “meri jaan”🥹

carlitoyn tell me why I’m crying

carlyn they love each other so much I’m crying

carlossainz55 tum meri jaan ho ❤️ (you are my life)

ynwifey Carlos replied in Hindi Oml I’m boutta cry

landonorris did yn help you type this or did you use google translate??😑

yourusername I may have helped a bit

carlossainz55 tu gadha hai (you’re an idiot) landonorris

yourusername now that’s all him, I’m so proud that he’s learning hindi 🥹 (btw my brother taught him that)

yourbrother roasteddd

Ynnnn55 they visited a temple together omlll

ynpyaar (pyaar means love) I literally met them today and they are even cuter and down to earth in real life.

yncarlos I love that even though both of them are really rich they’re still so down to earth which honestly makes them even more attractive

carlitoyn it’s not even just yn, but her entire family is also like that, honestly love her family, they’re such kind souls, it’s no surprise yn is too

carlossainz55

carlossainz55 with mi amor ❤️(my love)

yourusername I love you ❤️

carlossainz55 I love you more baby landonorris i see you have no shame yourusername what is our crime?? landonorris having fun without me yourusername 😐 carlossainz55 😐

yncarlos THE IT COUPLE!!!!

carlitoyn MISS MAAM YOUR OUTFIT!!!! THE HENNA ON YOUR FEET!!! THE FIRST PIC SO CUTE IM GONNA PASS OUT

liked by yourusername and carlossainz55

ynwifey THEM DANCING IS SO ADORABLE

carlossainz55 posted a story

caption: everyone is tired 🫨

yourusername

caption: 🥳🥳

yourusername

caption: Congratulations didi (older sister) and jiju (brother in law)

carlossainz55

carlossainz55 fun couple of days with mi amor

tagged: yourusername

yourusername carlos drank so much chai, he has become a certified indian now🫡

carlossainz55 mazaa aaya (had fun) yourusername Im glad 😘

landonorris better get an invite to y'all's wedding

yourusername of course lando carlossainz55 could be any day now so you better check your mail ynloversz WHAT

carlitoyn always eating with the looks queen 😍

f1wags you guys are a beautiful couple truly ❤️

comments have been limited on this post...

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author's note: Y'all would not believe how much i enjoyed this. Ive been super inactive because ive been super busy with stuff plus with not wanting to write but hopefully im back and will be writing more stuff, a lot F1 related bc im into F1 rn.

[asahicore]

falling asleep with treasure !!

pairing. bf!treasure x reader genre. established relationship, fluff <//3 and crack (??) word count. 1.7k author's note. this has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long omg.. thank u to that one anon for remembering it existed and sending me an ask about it lmao! i had gotten this idea randomly thinking about clingy junkyu and then boom... this mess of a reaction slash headcanon slash idk thing came to life. hope u enjoy! it was also an excuse to use those photos of doyoung cz hes so cutie pie in them

fall asleep cuddling, drift apart while sleeping, wake up, notice you’re not cuddling, start cuddling again, and repeat - hyunsuk

hyunsuk gives off healthy mature long-term relationship vibes to me okay. i feel like a lot of couples that have been together for a while end up not cuddling while sleeping but rather get into their own comfortable sleeping positions, and then throughout the night, even though you’re so sleepy you’re barely conscious, when you realize that you’re not cuddling, you scooch back into each other’s arms. he always hits snooze on the alarm at least once in the morning just to get ten extra minutes of being with you before having to get up.

you both wake up stinky and sweaty every single time - jihoon

and it's because the two of you fall asleep in your cuddling position (usually you as the little spoon or resting your head on his chest, but you force him to let you spoon him sometimes), and then you don't. move. not an inch. if it gets too hot, one of you throws the blankets away, or gets rid of their pajama pants, or regains enough consciousness during the night to turn the fan on, but under no circumstances will you break away from your cuddling position - unless it is to get into another cuddling position, of course. it's quite nice, but it means that morning showers are obligatory, because you both smell atrocious after a night of being stuck to each other like glue on paper.

you’re not his partner, you’re his personal pillow - yoshi

you know those anime body pillows? yup. that's what you become when yoshi wants to cuddle. he gives me major cuddler vibes, so you’ll have tried every position in the book, but his favorite is definitely the one where he gets to use to your chest as a pillow and you graze your fingernails against his scalp. he’s got a leg hiked up over your hips and has his arms circling your waist and holding you tight. you can’t move. nothing will have him falling asleep as fast as that. your voice is like a lullaby to him, so he especially likes it if you talk to him in a low voice while he drifts off to sleep. he’s so happy he could fall asleep with a smile on his face. he’s so cute i’m going to off myself

you can’t escape the death hold he has on you - junkyu

a big portion of your time hanging out with junkyu is spent napping. something that surprises you every time is how even though he isn’t the touchiest of boyfriends, if you fall asleep cuddling, you literally cannot move unless you wake him up and make him let you go. forget going to the toilet when you wake up in the morning or getting a snack during your afternoon nap: if junkyu has you in his grip, you cannot escape. he doesn’t even seem to notice: he just wakes up with an innocent smile on his face, saying “oh, you’re awake, y/n?” even though you’ve been trying to discreetly untangle yourself from him for the past thirty minutes. 

*cutely drools on you* - jaehyuk

now i could NOT tell you why but jaehyuk gives me like… snorer and drooler vibes 😭 but like in a cute way okay… once he falls asleep he’s just out like a light, he can’t help it. he’s like those cartoon characters that sleep with their mouths wide open and there’s a bit of saliva at the corner of their lips. and they’re very light snores that are fun to record and embarrass him with. if you didn’t love him so much, it might give you the ick. but anyways, in terms of cuddling i see him as a mix of everyone above in a way; he loves both holding you close to him and being in your arms, he loves both rubbing your back or you playing with his hair, he loves falling asleep while cuddling but he’s also happy if you need more space and just have, like, your feet or hands touching. as long as you’re next to him he knows he’ll sleep well <3

wakes up every time you so much as move a finger - asahi

any asahi lore expert such as myself will know that asahi is a very light sleeper. i think for him cuddling is more of an activity than a way of falling asleep if that makes sense? like he’ll do it when you’re watching something, or when you’re talking and want to be physically close at the same time, but he just can’t fall asleep while cuddling. he also sweats easily, so the added warmth would just make it not fun for him 😭he’d do it for you if you really wanted it, but he’d rather just hold hands while sleeping or something like that. you’d also feel sorry for him with how often he woke up during the night, even if it was just for a few seconds, everytime you moved around too noisily or snored. he also always wakes up before you, and you’d need to have a conversation with him about how you’d rather wake up with him next to you rather than wake up without him, only to find him in the kitchen making breakfast for you :( he just wants to do something nice for him, but you’d rather be able to kiss him first thing in the morning!!!! sorry my bias is showing a bit

watches you while you sleep for so long it becomes creepy - doyoung

oh this boy 😭 if he falls asleep after you or wakes up before you, you just know he's going to be propping himself up on his elbow, gazing down at you with soft eyes and a fond smile because you're just the prettiest person in the world to him, and there's nothing else he'd rather be looking at. and he isn’t rattled in the slightest if you catch him doing it, too. he'll just smile wider and say "hey, baby" or "sleep well?", that fucker. it's lowkey creepy, but it's doyoung, so it's okay. it’s a bit jarring at first, locking eyes with someone right when you wake up, but you get used to it. i see him as similar to jaehyuk in the sense that he’s happy to fall asleep, cuddling or not cuddling, in whatever way you prefer. he’d probably like to fall asleep facing you so that he could see your face right as he woke up (in a lovely, enamored way, not in a creepy way!) 👍

keeps you from falling asleep but grumpy when you try to wake him up - jeongwoo

jeongwoo seriously gives me tired all day until it's time to go to bed vibes, like he'll usually be chill with bursts of energy here and there but in the evening he's like a cat with the zoomies. it's like 11pm and you're just trying to fall asleep because you have class or work the next day but your boyfriend is bouncing all over the room and talking a hundred words a minute, keeping you awake way past your bedtime. it's kinda cute sometimes, but most of the time, you want to suffocate him with your pillow. usually, though, he'll calm down if he sees you're really tired, or if you force him to stay in your arms and start threading your hands through his hair or rub patterns against his back - that really calms him down. he becomes super quiet instantly and can even fall asleep like that. but dear lord, when that alarm rings the next morning, you do not want to talk to him for the following fifteen minutes. he is so grumpy and sleepy in the morning, i just know. it's impossible to get him out of bed and you've just learnt to get up yourself and wait for him to wake up - although it's better to check that he hasn't fallen back asleep (which he usually has). he just keeps groaning for five more minutes and buries his head in his pillow to block the light out, but if you press a kiss to his cheek or forehead, that usually gets him to open his eyes and start smiling, then ask for a proper good morning kiss on the lips. this kid is annoying as hell, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

forgets his size and rests his whole body on you - haruto

haruto is like those big dogs that have no idea they're so big and wonder why they can't just lay on top of you. “it's because you're suffocating me, ruto! you're too heavy to rest your whole weight on me.” when you'd told him that, he pouted so hard and had seemed so genuinely upset that you apologized, took him back in your arms and simply neglected your need to breathe for a little longer. he is also one hundred percent that guy who will deny wanting cuddles or any sort of skinship, but if you don’t give it to him, he will be mad at you. if you do give it to him, he’ll pretend he doesn’t like it. you just have to be a mind reader, i guess. all this to say that even if he doesn’t tell you outright, haruto definitely wants to cuddle to sleep. sure, you can fall asleep in his arms if you really want (he loves it), but he’d rather fall asleep on you like yoshi does, even though he’s way too heavy for that.

you fight every time you have to decide who gets to be the little spoon - junghwan

my son.. do you guys know that “thank you myson!” jimin meme… anyways… junghwan might have buffed up over the years but do not get him wrong, that man is a little spoon until the day he dies. if you are also the little spoon, you will have to fight. simple as that. you can decide if it’ll be a tickle fight, an argument where you try to prove why you defend to be the little spoon more, or an actual fist fight (you might lose though), you’ll have to settle it one way or another. no matter how much both of you try to deny it, you love it either way anyway. as much as you love the feeling of his arms around you, there’s something about holding such a big man in your arms like he’s half the size that he is. 

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @bucketofhiros (ask to be removed/added!)

treasure taglist: @mosviqu @nunoozi

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs always appreciated!

[punkpandapatrixk]

🥀Sad Bitch Lilith ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We live in a world where being too kind, too sweet, too compassionate and forgiving could often lead to disastrous outcomes. This is after all a world where narcissists, sociopaths and psychopaths run free without much repercussion. A sweet girl can’t be pleasant all the time; a goddess needs to carry a machete from time to time.

What most people have yet to grasp, is that Venus and Lilith quite literally make each side of the Divine Femininity coin. Venus represents Light and Lilith represents Dark; even then, they could easily switch roles depending on the situation at hand. Only if you want—you are allowed to embody both Venus and Lilith in their respective glory.

Do you really want to become that kind of idiot who sends love and light to those who have done you much harm? You don’t have to force yourself to be the bigger person in a conflict that was created for the sole purpose of stripping you of power and autonomy. Enablers and gaslighters enforce that kind of idea so you make room for their terrible behaviour. WAKE. UP.

So many women in this world have at some point been a Sad Bitch Lilith at the hands of psychopaths, sociopaths and narcs in whatever role they play in their lives. Hopefully this reading serves to help you turn the narrative into SAVAGE LILITH. The Dark Moon Goddess who delights in revenge for she knows in it lies EDUCATION for the imbeciles who have foolishly disrespected her kind, sweet, friendly, feminine qualities. The Dark Feminine retorts,

‘RESPECT ME OR GET DESTROYED.’

Black Moon Lilith is a Goddess of Redemption. She takes into her own hands matters of delivering nightmare to those who have wronged her. She calculates in the dark. She doesn’t ask for permission. She's a wild woman. She punishes swiftly. She moves history.

She is Karma.

Karma paid in revenge glow up, BITCH🌹

SONG: I’ll Make You Cry by aespa

MOVIE: Gone Girl (2014)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – When My Tears Silently Turn to Diamonds

the way your beauty irritates people – 10 of Pentacles Rx

VIBE: I’m Unhappy by aespa

You’re somebody who’s perceived as abundant and superfluous by others. It’s super obvious from the way you look, the way you carry yourself, or even your family background. You just… exude a rich vibe—whether or not you actually come from old money. Damn, you just have it in you. It’s something you were born with. Even if you didn’t come from a rich background, or even if right now, for some reason you’re struggling with resources, no, honey, listen: it’s your fucking AURA.

People can see either you’re blessed since birth—with money, beauty, talents, whatever—or they simply can smell that you’re gonna make it big someday. Most people you’ve known in your environment, do not like this about you at all. It’s their own fault though, why in the name of fuck are they always comparing themselves to you? Did you ask for that? Never. But they’re always imagining how nice it would be in your shoes without knowing for realz your life story.

They project their insecurities at you even when you’ve never wanted to make anybody feel that way because of your presence. In many ways, I think you’ve tried so hard to make you look ordinary, or in some cases, you’ve tried to show a lot of care and generosity. You’ve tried to make everybody see that you’re just like them even if your circumstances are not exactly the same. It never worked though—maybe it’s even backfired.

Your abundance… is simply irritating to them because you’re surrounded by motherfucking losers, babe.

silencing the negative self-talk – XIX The Sun

VIBE: ASAP by NewJeans

You should be done feeling bad for being radiant. It’s not your fault other people are ugly. It’s not your responsibility that other people don’t have money. How are you at fault when a good company chooses you for the talents and skills you’ve developed which they need? Seriously, it’s none of your business if others wouldn’t work on themselves to be considered an amazing creature in society. You keep being you, honey. You and I know you’re always refining your natural talents and deepening your base knowledge. You’re truly a hustler even if others don’t see that.

When you’re not saddened or confused by others’ terrible attitude towards your blessings, your mindset is really positive like the Sun itself. Of all the Piles, I think your heart is the purest🤣You’re more generous than people give you credit for. You’re always trying to make everyone feel welcomed. If you were a party host, you’d make sure every single person has a good time in ways that suit them. You’re that attentive.

Unfortunately, your Light, indeed babe, seems to attract a lot of harmful bugs. No matter how much you give, it’ll never be enough and nothing you do will stop the gossip and badmouthing and backstabbing. Because essentially, these bottom-feeders are already bitter about their own pathetic lives. They hate you as much as they hate themselves for not having the courage to feel deserving of the abundance you’ve worked hard for.

S A V A G E – 4 of Wands

VIBE: Hurt by NewJeans

‘Leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for you.’ – something I saw on Pinterest

Because you’re too kind, too giving, I think you’re the type of person who wouldn’t have the heart to leave people behind where they are miserable. Umm… you need to grow up a little bit more and finally see for yourself how pointless that is. You’re just one person, what makes you think you could save everybody? I hope you don’t yourself turn into a megalomania who thinks others wouldn’t survive without your charity.

Leave that toxic environment and you will regenerate yourself. As you do so, you become a vibrational match to some kind of a Soul Tribe situation where you’ll be met with people who aren’t the least bit parasitic. You’ve got to believe you’re deserving of a symbiosis mutualistic kind of relationships and friendships for them to manifest, OK?

As for the anklebiters? Hurt them with your leaving them. Hurt them with your totally ignoring and blocking them. I’m not saying you have to throw a brick at them for all the disrespect they’ve dealt on you. I’m sure your change of attitude will hurt the living shit out of them. And one day, when you’re famous and important, they’ll see you, alright. They’ll see you for all that you’ve always been capable of doing and they’ll regret they didn’t treat you better. And they’ll wallow in immense pain for not having access to you anymore. Nevermore. Leave them hurting in their shame and regrets. That’ll kill them😈

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻💙

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Gold Physician (Herodotus)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – You See This Glow-Up? NOW You Jelly

the way your beauty irritates people – Knight of Wands Rx

VIBE: 28 Reasons by Seulgi

First and foremost, you’re a damn rare beauty. I don’t care if you don’t think that highly of your physical appearance; bitch, you’re goddamn attractive. Take it or leave it. Your problem is that you act like you’re ordinary and that irritates the living shit out of your enemies because they think you’re fake. ‘How dare you act ordinary when you’re obviously that pretty. Are you mocking us??’ Yeah… Why the fuck are you surrounded by ordinary beauties? Have you got Venus squaring Pluto? Huehue~

Anyway, in any situation you’re an eye candy and everybody can see that. Maybe you’re dense enough to not see how others see you, but all these friends of yours, they’re hyper aware of how all eyes are on you the moment you slightly move. You stir the air in a way no other human does. It’s because there’s passion and authenticity in you that make you vibrate on a much higher level than most people. Really, you’re a rare gem but this could get you in danger a lot.

You’re the type of beauty that invites enemies actually because of your friendly disposition. Like, there’s this annoying gap that irritates people in ways even they don’t really understand. The gap between your intense beauty/attraction and your general politeness. You’re soft spoken, cheerful and helpful. For the most part, you’re a ball of joy and if you’re a girl, boys like you A LOT. You’re fun. You’re cool. You’re smart and creative. A lot funnier than people assume. You’re the IT GIRL. But the envious ones call you a pick-me LMAO

Envious girls put a lot of effort into brandishing you as a trashy character but by doing that, even the boys could see who’s the real G here. And well, wouldn’t that annoy their trashy asses further?🤷🏻‍♀️They’re literally ruining their own image by trying to ruin you🤡

silencing the negative self-talk – 8 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Forgive Me by BoA

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s have a heart-to-heart. Honey, you’ve got to stop pretending like you’re a sweet Venus all the time. You’re not. You and I know that. Deep down, there’s an evil bitch in you that wants to play with fire. I think you’ve tried to curb your Lilith practically your entire Life. Perhaps on a subconscious level you know this of you and you want to avert your eyes from looking at your Lilith. That’s how you seem fake sometimes.

Highly intuitive people can smell the Devil in you, but you act like you’re an angel all the time. And that’s annoying because your Lilith is literally a men-magnet and this often takes away attention from other girls but you act all innocent💩I’m not saying it’s your fault—I sense that for the most part, you don’t even consciously want this intense attention; I’m saying there’s this mechanism about how you’re perceived by your environment.

Aaand why do you think that is? Of course, because subconsciously, you want all of this attention. You always want to be wanted and liked and desired. You crave that shit so bad because when you were tinier you felt unseen. Un-understood. Unappreciated. Now, doesn’t matter who or how, you just want everybody to see you and want you, but you’re not gonna give them back any of that attention. You want to be unattainable. Actually, you are unattainable. You don’t easily let people get close to you. You don’t want people in your personal space. You just want the a t t e n t i o n.

S A V A G E – 5 of Wands Rx

VIBE: Savage by aespa

You know, this is all just a lil game to you. Deep down, you’re fighting this urge to snatch everybody’s boyfriends and husbands. Sometimes you get frightened by your evil desires because if you were unhinged, you’d want all these married people to want you more than they want their spouses. It’s not even that serious. You just want to come on top of everybody. You’re secretly envious of these little bitches who are—probably—loved by their spouses. And even when you can see there’s no Love in that connection, you’re still jealous that someone wants to commit themselves to these undeserving mediocre asses.

You feel all alone in this world. People are only nice to you because of your looks or whatever else that’s not even that important. And people are also nasty to you because of your looks and everything else that’s not even that important. It’s been one insanely difficult Life for you. You’re sad. You feel abandoned and unwanted in spite of all the shallow praises. And there’s this quiet rage inside that wants to punish everyone for not caring about the REAL you.

Bitch, grow up a little bit and you’ll see that low-quality people get married to their fellow mediocre asses. You don’t play in the same dimension as them so don’t lower your standards🤭One day you’ll see who’s gonna end up divorced and miserable because they all married the wrong people! Nah, that’s not even the important part LMAO The important part is when you’re the one marrying a Soul Mate after all of your spiritual and psychological glow-up that made you a vibrational match to so much REAL LOVE and you’re surrounded by all this money and beauty.

You never needed their kind of a glow-up; you were born perfection. You needed a different kind of confidence to SLAY and be very happy.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻❤️

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Happiness

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – You Thought I’d Give It All to You

the way your beauty irritates people – 2 of Cups

VIBE: The Weekend by BIBI

You’re this absolutely weird mix of devil and angel in one body. You attract ALL kinds of people. Young, old. Men, women. Animals and toddlers are either terrified by you or LOVE you to oblivion. People always want something from you, right? They either simp for you or act like you owe them something—usually when their simping doesn’t pay off LMAO That’s really weird… Your entire existence is weird. I like that😉

You’re definitely giving, charitable, although in reality you’re really selective with whom you allow in your personal space. ‘Just because I’m friendly with you doesn’t mean I wanna be friends with you,’ kind of vibe. Nevertheless, people are silly, and they cultivate this weird intense desire within them. They build all these unnatural expectations around you having to give or share with them.

In their sick minds, they demand this. When you don’t humour them their sick demands, they get ULTRA bitter, probably even resentful. And then they seek to destroy you. Weird. Weird. Weird. You never even intended to lead them on. People are crazy when you’re around. The worst part is, they never even had your best interest at heart. They just wanted something from you—energy, attention, favouritism, gentle caress, who the hell cares.

How much Neptunian/Pisces/12th House energy do you have for you to be this way?😷HAHAH

silencing the negative self-talk – Page of Pentacles

VIBE: KAZINO by BIBI

Unlike the other Piles, you don’t seem to have a lot of neg self-talk. You’re sassy, bitchy, and you embrace your negative qualities because you see the value in them. Society ain’t perfect either anyway, what’s so wrong in being me the way that I am? You go, girlie~ You’re a total believer in revenge and vengeance. You ARE the definition of Lilith incarnate. Were you born with it? Did you develop yourself to be this way? Who the fuck knows—that’s your very own secret ingredient~

You’d rather let the mortals hurt and rot in their own stupidity than let yourself be the one to hurt. Unless you’re defending those you care about, you’re never sustaining hurt. You hurl lemons at all your enemies before they could get closer. Any step closer, you squirt that lemon in their eyes. Their fault. You warned them already! ‘Hey, I’m nice but I ain’t no saint,’ is your philosophy.

And when you’re really, really, really done with someone’s bullshit, you ain’t afraid to spill some blood. You’re gonna be smart about it though. You plan quietly and attack unexpectedly with a demonic angel smile on your face. ‘Send a message to your god; you’ve messed with the wrong bitch, BITCH.’

You are a menace to society👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

S A V A G E – XII The Hanged Man Rx

VIBE: Vengeance by BIBI

See, you are one sneaky bitch. Though you are a fucking menace to society, you know how to act righteous. You also know how to act like the victim should the occasion arise—but this is rare because you like to appear on top of everyone. Still, you’re quite masterful at creating sad or horrendous backstories that would justify your wreaking havoc upon your enemies, or even just society at large. Your sense of morality is kinda shrewd LMAO And I think that’s because you’ve been at the mercy of someone else’s shrewd behaviour before, probably when you were a lot younger.

That made you realise you never wanted to be the victim anymore. If anything, you’ll terrorise everyone so you maintain your own safety. WHEW. You’ve got your trust broken in authority. Their rules didn’t protect you or even hurt you. So, you believe new rules should be made in their place. You make your own rules and you don’t care if that hurts some people. You have this dicktionary explaining what kinds of dickhead are worth sacrificing to your new-world agenda.

🤣🤣🤣You’re CRAZY!

I believe in you. I think you could change the world. But I think you’re largely only interested in your own world. The whole world? That’s too much trouble. You aren’t keen on destroying your small queendom/kingdom in exchange for world domination—you smart like that. Keep at that. WHOA.

SWEET MOTHER OF REVENGE 🔻🧡

VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY – Green Magus (John Dee)

Reclaiming Lilith – Priestess of Divination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Preseason Edition (Quinn Hughes Edition)

23-24 Season Masterlist

next: two

tw for trevor’s unemployment

my shoulder check showcase post was referenced! check it out if you haven’t <3

SEPTEMBER 27, 2023

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, trevorzegras, and 12,355 others

yourusername WELCOME BACK, SISSY (and hockey) FANS! my best friend, CAPTAIN QUINN HUGHES played his first preseason game tonight and he sure made an impression!

firstly, he got the third penalty of the game and first penalty for the canucks in the first period! it was for holding against hyman of the oilers, and to say i was laughing was an understatement. that was top notch comedy, bestie, thank you sm for keeping me employed

and secondly, QUINN SCORED!!! he got his first (preseason) goal as a captain, AND the first goal of the game during the second period! it was a power play goal, and leon draisaitl (he’s shown in the last pic of this post) was the criminal that made it so! shoutout to him!

i’m sorry you didn’t win, but you played a beautiful 24:10 minutes (most for the canucks, third most overall) and almost won the overtime race against leon’s boy toy, mcdavid!

and lastly, i want to address mine and quinn’s son cole! he got his second penalty of the preseason 3 minutes and 23 seconds after his father! and they both looked dead inside <3 like father, like son! (ps shoutout to petey for also getting a penalty!) (there were ten total penalties!)

you put your whole butts into this game, boys! mwah! you’ll get them next time for the season opener! i love you all!

and i extra love my best friend🩵

tagged _quinnhughes and colemcward

view all 349 comments

_quinnhughes i have not missed this

yourusername don’t be silly! of course you have! you love it and me!

_quinnhughes i do love you! just not… i could live without the embarrassing screenshots

yourusername so don’t be embarrassing??? this sounds like a captain best friend problem

_quinnhughes you halfway credited my goal to draisaitl? and called mcdavid his boy toy? @.trevorzegras what did you let happen this summer?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes she got bored

yourusername @_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras they’re my heroes

jackhughes @/yourusername stop… stop typing

user4 OH WE ARE SOOOO BACK

user73 AHHH!! YOU’RE BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER

liked by yourusername

colemcward @_quinnhughes what do i do?

_quinnhughes @/colemcward act like she’s normal

colemcward @/yourusername i love you, too, mom! and miss you! thanks for the support! i think

yourusername @/colemcward aw i miss you, too, son! i’ll see you soon, i promise <3

yourusername @_quinnhughes i will fight to the death with you

trevorzegras @/yourusername you are not close enough to casually get on a flight to vancouver right now so don’t you dare

yourusername @/trevorzegras and who’s fault is that?

trevorzegras @/yourusername technically, not mine

yourusername @/trevorzegras it’s tough being the breadwinner right now… but it is a burden i must carry

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras ““i’m sorry about your life” -sissy” -me

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes maybe i will put her on a plane

user16 THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE HAS RETURNED! oh, and quinn has, too!

jackhughes @_quinnhughes gordy howe hatty when?

yourusername @/jackhughes @_quinnhughes @.lhughes_06 @/colecaufield @/jamie.drysdale @_alexturcotte @/slknight35 @.matthew_tkachuk gordy howe hatty when?

jackhughes @/yourusername i am an angel

yourusername @/jackhughes you’re quite literally a devil

trevorzegras @/yourusername why wasn’t i included?

yourusername @/trevorzegras aww, baby! it’s so cute to think you could fight! i’ll leave yours up to stromer

trevorzegras @/yourusername your favoritism towards stromer is going too far at this point

yourusername @/trevorzegras but daddy, i love him!

jackhughes @/yourusername i’m begging you again to stop typing

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes @/yourusername can i get a regular hatty first?

jackhughes @_quinnhughes no

yourusername @_quinnhughes idc which comes first but i’d like them both pls and ty

slknight35 @/yourusername i’m a goalie?

yourusername @/slknight35 and? you had an assist last season, ullmark scored an empty netter last season (sorry quinny), and goalie fights happen! you’d become a national treasure. you’d steal matty’s title as king of the rats

_quinnhughes @/slknight35 don’t listen to her

matthew_tkachuk @/slknight35 don’t listen to her. i got it.

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk MY RAT! I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON YOU! my first love🥰

trevorzegras @/yourusername 5 minute major for hurting my feelings. get in the bathroom.

yourusername @/trevorzegras i deserve that

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername if i get a goal and an assist first, i’ll see what i can do

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale this is why you’re my favorite ex husband❤️

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername i try my best (suck it @/jackhughes)

colecaufield @_alexturcotte and i haven’t gotten into a fight??? and you want us to full send???

_alexturcotte @/colecaufield you know damn well what she’s about to say

yourusername @/colecaufield @_alexturcotte sounds like you two don’t love me anymore

_alexturcotte there’s our girl

colecaufield @/trevorzegras add 2 minutes for embellishment

trevorzegras @/colecaufield yes sirrr

lhughes_06 @/yourusername i haven’t even gotten an nhl penalty

yourusername @/lhughes_06 i’ve got big bucks on your first one being puck over the glass

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 i’m rooting for you

_quinnhughes @/yourusername @/jackhughes WHAT DID WE SAY ABOUT GAMBLING?

yourusername @_quinnhughes ““to not to” -mator” -me

user61 i’m begging the universe that sissy posts get to keep happening😭

user44 using this as a sign that *you know what* will happen🕯️🔮

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes thank you

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras die

yourusername @_quinnhughes you’re literally going to marry us please don’t wish death upon him

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras fall down a flight of stairs

yourusername @_quinnhughes yeah okay

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes uno reverse

jackhughes @/yourusername they might be worse than us

yourusername @/jackhughes they wish

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes beautiful debut as a captain! i’m so proud to be your brother!

_quinnhughes i feel like you’re mocking me

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes i would never

yourusername @_quinnhughes idc if he meant it or not, I’M proud to be your sister💙

_quinnhughes @/yourusername that’s the nicest thing you’ve said this whole post aw (i’m proud to call you my sister) (you too luke)

jackhughes @_quinnhughes you’re proud to call lukey your sister? low blow

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes all i’ve done is figuratively look up to you my whole life!

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes @/lhughes_06 i’m disowning you both

yourusername @/jackhughes @/lhughes_06 suck it, lucifers

[xcrust]

Not very punk?

A little drabble I wrote while procrastinating doing work for school. Its not super detailed and I accidentally made Sal a little more stoic than intended.

Gender neutral reader X Sal Fisher

---

The first time that you met Sal was definitely not the greatest look for you. In fact to this day you sometimes get small bursts of cringe attacks thinking about it. Of course you believed that you can only make a moment embarrassing if you make it. But considering how much you hold him so dear to your heart today. Maybe meeting him and remembering all that embarrassment shows how impactful it was to have met him.

—

"You know for a guy that has blue hair, you're not really that punk"

Every few days you head towards the Addison apartment to visit the resident stoner of the small town of nockfell. You like to claim that you were not someone that frequently gets high. though wouldn't that be a little bit of a fib to the guy that's standing a few feet away.

"Im Sal, my dad and I actually just moved upstairs."

Another person that is going to be a subject to the freakshow of this building. Don't get that thought wrong though, you lived down the road with your parents. Like everywhere else on the planet there are always characters of people you see everyday but something about this complex just has such loud personalities whether it's intended or not. You would've been living amongst the apartment if it weren't for their parents having extremely weird auras of the place. Though it would be hypocritical to trash on it since you're spending half your time there.

“Man, that's a really cool mask! Ignore them. They're actually crazy” Larry got up from his bed to head towards the new guy.

“Larry literally shut your face before I kick you. I can also bet that the mask is a prosthetic.” So actually you are the only one that is high right now. Usually it's you both that get high all the time but as of the past few days Larry has been so freaked out that getting high would just bring one that's super freaked out. So here you were, in a ball.

“They’re actually right about that one” sal speaks out adjusting the straps around his head. For a little guy he does have quite a deep voice.

“See that is really badass!” If anyone saw you or to be more specific if any of your parents saw you then it would be so embarrassing and maybe the usual nerve being around a new person has been washed away. 

“They seem cool…you know that's a lot of big talk for someone that can barely keep their head up” the new guy speaks again. Mainly pointed to Larry because the target of that comment was already out like a light.

“Trust they're honestly very chill. I just don't think that they're even on the same planet as us” the host of the room started while heading towards his speakers. “What's your place in music? Let me show this band that i'm loving right now” 

“You sure that they won't wake up?” Sal asked while approaching the speakers as well. He had no idea but seeing the small bursts of spunk that you maintained while conscious was very alluring. That's not even mentioning the way that they knew what the prosthetic was.

“I have no idea but their loss, with my mom gone it's my rules in my room”

—

"Oh my gosh sally stop bringing that up" You're covering your face. It's in the middle of the day at school. Actually you and Sal were in the middle of bio class. Having been checked out of the lesson for such a long time now. "i promise i've never been that high before in my life and never will be again"

The thing about the first time you met him you were beyond greened out. Actually when you thought he left to search for whatever it was at the time you ran to the bathroom to throw up. Spoiler alert! He was still in the room.

"Im sorry im just trying to make punkness be stronger" He responds holding his heart. The sass of this kid is going to put you in a coma.

In all honesty you didn't know how you got so close to the over dramatic boy in front of you. Larry and Sal got closer before you both started hanging out one on one. Half of the first few months of meeting him the only times that you both interacted was in Larry’s basement. It's not like you avoided him but it's not like you didnt after embarrassing yourself so badly.

“You two in the back! Stop talking and pay attention” 

“Sally, count your days because the minute we are out of this classroom I'm putting you six feet under” You giggled out trying to be quiet. The teacher really only made it all more funny. Beside you sal was holding his mouth scrunched over in the textbook. You reflected looking at him, being in his presence really boosted all good emotions. The connection that you both got from each other has been such a 180 change. Not saying life was terrible before him but a large spark was given to you being together. 

“Ok (Y/N) five second head start and you're dead” 

You leaned back with the biggest smirk on your face. A minute from the bell and you're already stuffing all your things into your bag. Counting yourself lucky that the door is right beside you in the back of the class. 

*RiNG * *RING* *RING*

Before the second ring you're already halfway down the hall. Literally no agility was in your body unless it meant that you can beat any of your closest friends. Take the time you were hanging out with Ash. Putting a bet on whoever got to your house first would mean that the one that got there gets to ride your new motorcycle. The school isn't far and you did win but you could have been mistaken for an asthmatic by the time you got to your house. 

Running into Larry by the lockers you hid around him to make the escape. 

“Who are you getting away from no-” a flash of blue hair came zooming towards you both. If it weren't for the tall resident of the addison basement you wouldn't have gotten away. Pushing Larry to Sal before making it to the courtyards. You'd have to apologize to him when you win. For now it's all for one out here. 

The courtyard was very quiet. It being lunch didn't change the fact that no one was coming here. Though you wouldn't expect that much of a difference with the teachers lounge nearby. Luckily since no one comes here maybe it was time to text him your success. Pulling out your phone to say he didn't catch you within the first few minutes of the bell. 

A second later you're being put into a chokehold. 

“I win”

Sally stands behind you still interlocked. Damn that was kinda- No. Nope that's so wack. Crazy thoughts are reserved for crazy people. Inseconds though you lose your balance and completely fall on the ground. Him landing on top of you

“Woah sal take me on a date first” you said groaning in a choked out laugh. Eyes still not opened from the impact. 

“Wait! Don't open your eyes just yet” he sounded panicked so you followed going back to being relaxed laying down. The sound of buckles and straps being pulled explained the panic. It's been almost a two years since he moved in and to this day it has still been a touchier topic. It's no rush at all to see him though. Sometimes you long for moments to look at his face for long periods of time. Of course at sleepover you would maybe get a small glimpse in the middle of the night but light or lack thereof were basically the cockblock of the century. That being said, if he's not ready then no way in hell would you ask.

“Sorry, I'm good now,” he spoke out. You opened your eyes to see he moved himself a few feet away.

“Sal, you have no reason to apologize! did you do anything wrong? i dont think so” you reaffirm 

He sighs but looks at you with the same look that only you've been bestowed. Both teenagers sit in silence for a bit. You had shifted to sit closer to him to look up at the sky. 

“You know I care about you a lot… you've made this place so much more fun. Feel free to always feel comfortable around me and i'll bother you the same amount.” Talking to Sally like this comes from pure truth. You love him a lot. It could just be platonic or you're just telling yourself that. 

Getting up you grab his hand and start pulling him to the cafeteria. instead of letting go he interlocked your hands a bit tighter than the average person. Though it gave you a bit of happiness. He might not be the best with words sometimes but you appreciated that hand squeeze.  

“Come on! We need to make sure Todd isn't boring everyone to death.”

--

After yet another ghost hunting sesions around the town it was pretty fair to say that the group was entirely pooped. So this brings us to the garage band party? More like a treehouse makeshift acoustic party. The tree was way too far from any extension cord to work so now we work with what we got. It is crazy to think that you've all been fending and mystery solving for nearly four years. In that time it was almost a joke to be called the mystery gang with a bit more emo flavor. During those four years, the relationship between you and Sal seemed to only grow more tense by the second. That's not in a bad way though.

“Hey , Sal and I are going to be getting some munch!” Larry says half way down the tree already. 

“YOOO WAIT, get some barbeque chips! You literally have to or else you're making the children starve!” Ash exclaimed, putting away the guitar.

Sal starts getting up from right beside you. The treehouse was not huge so most of us were sharing seats. You both were rocking in the bean bag. Somehow you both made it work even if it was definitely made for toddlers only. The position that was there was incredibly comfortable until Larry was continuously shouting from the ground.

“I'll see you in a bit” sal says before pushing your head slightly. Looking over to him while he walked out practically put you in a trance. 

Glancing over to Todd and Ash at the other corner of the room you can see them practically frothing at the mouth. The second Sal got out of sight they both pounced onto you. 

“Y/n, you're actually killing us over here” todd reclaimed. “Its been the longest fucking four years of my life watching you both eye fuck eachother.”

Wow, that is the most out of character thing that you've heard him say ever in your life. But like it was such a call out on your name.

“Dude that is so out of pocket” you're grinning while speaking out. “You need to stop hanging around Larry he's ruining your good guy persona”

“Stop it! You're trying to deflect that conversation! You and Sally are actually making us all lose our minds! When are you guys going to get together? ” Ash says. Looking at this intervention with Ash and Todd was almost comical to look at. Both of them really are not fighting the girl and gay best friend stereotype. 

“In my defense, I'd like to know if you ever cornered Sal like you are with me!” In front of them you look like you're taking this as a joke but on the inside you've been shitting yourself trying to think of a way out of this. In actuality you've had such a massive crush on him for so long. 

“Unlike popular belief we have eyes, so of course we've cornered him.” Todd rebutted. 

“Well damn, Uhh im not sure if there is anything that I can say… say what did he say about me?” In response to that, Todd and Ash really deadpanned so hard it almost stabbed you. 

“Depending on the information you tell us then we can decide what we can tell you” He continued.

“You guys suck– so maybe I like him an extremely small itty bitty bit but that really doesn't matter if he doesn't like me back” If they both couldn't deadpan anymore somehow they managed to do it in this instance. 

Just a moment goes by and you hear shuffling at the bottom of the tree. A hushed voice started exclaiming.

“Sal! You just stepped on my foot you whore” 

So this was a set up? You had no idea that Your friends were suicidal. Turning around you see the romance twins looking really nervous. In a flash all hell broke loose.

“Move! LARRY get out OF THE WAY!” Ash yelled while sprinting to the door of the treehouse. 

-

Cut to you with a bag of ice on your ankle. Sitting in your room with Sally holding your ankle to make sure nothing falls off. Long story short while you were trying to hunt the three devils, you fell down a few of the steps in the ladder. 

“So I heard you like me and itty bitty bit? Didn't know you were talking like a 5 year old now” Sal says.

“Oh come off it, maybe that toddler bean bag gave me a lobotomy while you were out” The feeling of it all being so tense. “But what if I do like you?” it's been so long that it really scared you that there was a chance that you could lose him.

“Then I would tell you to not stop. Maybe… for the past few years I really like you more than a bit”

“You know for a guy with blue hair, You’re really hot and maybe a little badass and maybe a little bit punk”

[lvlyhao]

PAC: what are your dreams telling you?

Hello, lovely people! Wow, this was SUCH a positive reading for all piles, I was honestly shocked, but good for y’all haha Also, I’ve been in an Ateez mood lately, so enjoy these beautiful men

♡ Please follow, like and reblog if this resonated with you so I can do more fun readings like this in the future. My paid comissions are open! ♡

How do I choose a pile?

Take a deep breath or two, close your eyes, and focus on the question we’re asking the cards today. Then, take a look at the images above. Which one of them calls your name?

───⋆☆───────────────

If you chose San, welcome to pile 1!

Song: treasure (ATEEZ)

Card: 10 of cups

Wow, ok. This is a very direct message here with both the song and the 10 of cups coming up. It looks like you may have been dreaming about your future with a certain someone lately. It does feel like someone you’ve known for a while, but it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in union right now. I feel like they might be physically away from you too. It could be the case that they’re travelling or you just haven’t been spending time together. You could also be childhood friends, or maybe you know them from school. It’s like you’re spending your awake time wondering about all the “what if’s” that could come into your life if your relationship went into the next level, and this is actually an amazingly positive prospect. There is no greater emotional fulfillment than this card, my darlings. I’m honestly excited for you!

If you’ve been wondering whether to make a move or not, your dreams are straight up giving you the green light. Go for it! This is about an absolutely fantastic person, who is going to treasure you beyond what you could have ever imagined. They know your value and so do you, so the future you see for the two of you could very well happen in real life. If you know who Spirit is talking about here, I beg you to NOT be afraid of commitments with them. Now, if you’re not sure, it could be that your dreams about them haven’t happened just yet, but they will. Trust yourself and your heart at this moment.

If you chose Wooyoung, welcome to pile 2!

Song: i’m the one (ATEEZ)

Card: queen of cups

The Queen of cups came right out for you, pile 2, and I’m hearing a very clear message about the next few months. It could be that you haven’t been satisfied with where you are right now in life. This could be regarding your personal relationships, your work, studies, anything, really. You just feel stuck and like you can’t seem to feel good about yourself, and that’s fine. What this card is telling me, however, is that the time has come for you to show some compassion and love for yourself. In this case, that means getting your life together and cleaning up your act. The Queen beckons you to create your favorite version of yourself, and to not let past experiences define you anymore.

The past is the past. It’s quite literally water under the bridge, and what went away will not come back. Starting soon (when you feel ready) and from then on, you gotta treat yourself like the main character. You are the one!! You can be the person you’ve always wanted to be. That you already exists somewhere within. So hold your head high and decide where to start. If you’re looking for a physical glow up, this could mean working out and implementing more things to your diet, like fruits or vegetables. If you’re looking for a mental glow up, She advises tons of meditation and spending time outside to connect with the world around you. You are entering the best era of your life.

If you chose Hongjoong, welcome to pile 3!

Song: illusion (ATEEZ)

Card: temperance

My dears, it seems that you might be having quite a mixed bag of dreams and nightmares lately. Either that or you haven’t been feeling well-rested. The Temperance tells me you’re trying to balance out having fun and taking good care of your body and soul, but it’s been difficult. I get it. It’s easy to fall back into old habits while trying to build new ones, but don’t let that get you down.

What this card tells me is that you’re on the right path, and you’re doing the right thing. There’s no need to doubt that. What you do need, however, is to be more patient with yourself. Taking one or two steps back sometimes doesn’t mean you haven’t made any progress. The progress is still there, and it will start to show soon if you just persist. This could also be about manifesting, if you’re into that. Maybe you’ve been going back and forth between thinking ‘I got this’ and then spiraling, wondering why you don’t see any movement. I’m telling you right now: there IS movement. Don’t fall for the illusion that you’re doing it wrong! Getting out of your own head could also be good for you now. All this self-reflection sometimes makes us look inwards a bit too much, so spend some time with your friends, family, and/or pets.

[seiya-starsniper]

Could I humbly request a Dreamling 1 or 19 for the Soft™ fic prompt meme 👉👈 

1. slow dancing or 19. ‘it made me think of you.’ 

I somehow managed to fit both prompts in here 👀 👀 

Sorry for being slow about this one friendo, work’s been kicking my butt lately but hopefully this was worth it! <3 

Fic could be considered a companion piece to this fill, since I'm such a sucker for weddings ahaha.

—----------------

“Please welcome the newly wedded Gadlings!”

Hob pulls Dream excitedly through the entrance to the ballroom as soon as they’re introduced. They’re both flushed with excitement (and wine from the Dreaming) as they wave at all of Hob’s friends from his current life.

The crowd for their wedding reception is sizable, not nearly as large in attendance as their wedding in the Dreaming, but still large enough to cost Hob quite a bit of money in food and alcohol. He doesn’t care. The glowing and easy smile on Dream’s face is worth far more than any worldly currency.

“And now,” the DJ announces once they’ve reached the center of the room, “it’s time for the newly wedded couple’s first dance.”

The lights dim everywhere except for where they are standing. Hob pulls his husband (his husband) flush against his own body and wraps one arm around Dream’s waist, the other settling into his open palm. They move easily together once the piano intro begins to play, and Lionel Richie’s voice echoes throughout the room.

My love There's only you in my life

“You’ve always had a strange sense of humor,” Dream says, brow raised in amusement as they sway and step easily around one another. Hob knows Dream’s body like he knows his own breath, and it is little effort for him to step back and easily maneuver Dream into a quick twirl.

“Excuse you,” Hob says with mock offense as he pulls them back together. “Endless Love is a classic wedding song.”

“Is that so?” Dream asks, eyes literally glittering with stars and mouth turned up in a challenge.  

Hob nods assuredly. “It was Diana’s Ross’s best selling single,” he says, diving into his encyclopedic memory for music. Dream’s expression lights up as he continues to talk.

“Couldn’t escape this song on the radio back in the 80’s,” Hob continues. “It was nominated for a lot of awards. too. You could say it’s one of the defining songs of the decade,” he adds, then wrinkles his nose. “Film’s absolute shit though.” 

“You say that about many films,” Dream notes, probably remembering the time Hob had given him a twenty minute mini-rant on the origins of Tears in Heaven. Or maybe it was Can’t Help Falling in Love. Come to think of it, most of Hob’s favorite records were tie-ins to terrible movies. 

“Yes, well,” Hob shrugs before he pulls Dream closer to him. “Sometimes great music is made for shit films.” 

“So I take it ‘Endless Love’ is not on the list of your ‘must see films’, then?” Dream huffs, tilting his head playfully towards Hob.

“Not even close,” Hob grins before he leans and captures Dream’s lips with his own. The crowd around them erupts in applause and cheers.

When they pull away, Hob twirls Dream once before, before he tilts the Endless backwards into a dip. Dream’s back arches beautifully, and it steals Hob’s breath for a moment before he remembers to pull Dream back up. When their bodies are pressed together once more, Hob dips his head and admits a secret against Dream’s ear.

“I also may have picked this song because I’m a sap,” he whispers, grinning as he feels Dream shudder beneath him. “It made me think of you a lot, you know.”

“Did it?” Dream asks, pulling his head back to meet Hob’s gaze. 

Hob nods as he begins to mouth the next verse, his focus solely trained on Dream: 

And love, I'll be a fool for you, I'm sure You know I don't mind 'Cause you, you mean the world to me

“I think I’m beginning to see the appeal,” Dream says before he kisses Hob once more. 

[bemusedlybespectacled]

Thoughts on Steddyhands because I’m at full Pepe Silvia levels of conspiracy thinking right now:

I’m more willing to believe in Steddyhands becoming canon than I think I ever have been before because of the comments both Rhys and Con made at various cons PLUS the teaser

HEAR ME OUT

This is a cast with IMO an unusually high awareness of fan theories/shipping (that goes double for Con “my instagram is just fanart” O’Neill), so Stizzy/Steddyhands has to be something they’re aware of.

Moreover, while cons are less edited/monitored than a magazine article or something, there is still usually a certain amount of prep that goes into them. And while Con is willing to spread shipping chaos, I don’t get the sense that Rhys is.

So for both Con AND Rhys to make Stizzy-bait comments (“he looked good at the end of my sword”/“hunky”) HAS to have had, obviously not scripting, but forethought attached to it. Like, Rhys could have very easily said “Stede only has eyes for Ed” or similar and it would be perfectly fine. That he DIDN’T makes me SUSPICIOUS, especially in light of the teaser.

Then comes the Vanity Fair first look, which IS going to be edited in a way that a con isn’t. And let’s look at what it says:

Izzy “goes on a remarkable journey” this season, says O’Neill. “He understands what love is and whom he’s in love with.’’

By the end of season one many fans speculated that Izzy was driven by something at the intersection of love and obsession. This season, according to O’Neill, Izzy gets even deeper into that dynamic. “Physically it’s been quite demanding, and also emotionally it’s been quite demanding to be playing a man enraged by unrequited love, who’s basically a hopeless romantic, and to be able to play all that and also remember that this is fundamentally a comedy.’’

“What I love about this show is it does allow itself to swing between the two,” O’Neill says. “We’re almost operatic in our darkness at times, and then we swing back to the sweetness of the simplicity of the love of our two guys. It’s been challenging just to get the tone right.”

“We’ve gone further this season than we did last season with those tones,” he continues. “So sometimes it’s quite interesting to remind yourself that you have to take your foot out of the tragedy—literally, your foot—and put it back into the comedy.”

on set there’s been “a lot more spontaneity and script revisions based on what’s happening day-to-day,” says Douaihy. “The cast are so comfortable with one another and their characters, that they move through it naturally.’’

In the trailer, we see:

Stede getting in a fight with someone not Izzy, then getting excited and telling Izzy he threw a punch (which to me only makes sense if Izzy taught him to do it)

Stede just hanging out while Izzy practices swordplay shirtless COME ON

Now, let’s play some matchup.

Both Rhys and Con have an awareness of their characters that lets them just get spontaneous while still in character

Both Rhys and Con have, while speaking from what their characters would say/think, said they both thought the other was hot

Con does not specify “whom [Izzy’s] in love with” even though Vanity Fair literally makes a comment about Izzy’s love for Ed, so it’s not like he’s hiding anything important by not specifying Ed if he means Ed

Izzy’s a “hopeless romantic” “enraged by unrequited love” this season

SO, connecting the dots (I’M CONNECTING THEM), here’s my prediction:

Izzy is going to find Stede and try to get him to Ed. This is the “journey” Con is referencing.

During this time he’s going to be training Stede in stuff like throwing a punch. I think this is actually the emotional journey, not simply him hanging out on Ed’s ship and realizing he loves Ed: he leaves Ed and finds Stede and emotionally grows while spending time with him. (I think this also means Izzy is going to spend more time with Stede, plot-wise, than with Ed, because he’s not going to grow there)

“I just need to find the love of his life and it’ll fix him” is a very hopeless romantic thing to think JSYK

Izzy is standing on one foot in the candles scene, which to me means that “taking your literal foot out of the tragedy and into the comedy” is referencing his toe and sword fighting while disabled… which Stede is present for. So Stede has to know what Ed did to Izzy and almost certainly is going to have feelings about it.

All of that is great fodder for improv while in character.

I can think of nothing more emotionally swinging, more romantic, more enraging, and more funny than Izzy training his rival to be a pirate in pursuit of Ed’s love and then falling for Stede himself in the process, knowing that if they get together he has neither of them.

I will note that this doesn’t mean Steddyhands has to be endgame in a canonical sense (even though I want it with all my soul). I do think that Steddyhands will be referenced/built on in an emotional sense, even if it’s only through Stede and Izzy’s bitch4bitch interactions. I WANT TO BELIEVE.

[lovehungrybean]

You make me feel Beautiful

Summary: Wanda has just given birth to the twins and feel insecure about her body causing her to push away yn.

Warning: 18+ *slight smut at the end*

Angst and fluff

————————————————————————

“Finally” you breathed out as your back hit the comfort of your bed. The past two hours had consisted of you and Wanda trying to get your two screaming babies to sleep. Nappy changes, singing, rocking,feeding and burping nothing seemed to satisfy the twins until finally now,12:30 am; on their own accord after having totally exhausted their parents silence was bestowed in the home.

Next to you Wanda also breathed out, the relief of finally being able to hear herself think clear. “ I love them both so much but god; having twin’s is difficult.” Wanda states as she turns to look at you.

You look back at your wife taking in her appearance, how strands of hair escape the confinements of the messy bun on the top of her head, the light blush present on her cheeks due to the ordeal of the past two hours. But you swear she just gets more and more beautiful by the day, especially seeing her become a mother you have never felt more attracted to her than now. You just wish she believed you when you would tell her.

“You look so pretty right now” you whisper into the quite of the night

Wanda avoids your eyes, “I look like a mess” she scoffs voice laced with insecurity.

It had been over two months since Wanda had given birth to Tommy and Billy, and the two of you had not been intimate since before the birth; not by lack of trying from your side but rather Wanda. Anytime you would try to instigate, she would make the excuse of being tired, which you would of believed but then she started getting changed in the bathroom with the door locked. And there also been occasions where you would try to hug her from behind but as soon as your hands get anywhere close to her stomach she moves away. This was especially strange as, Wanda’s and your’s love language had always been touch, ever since you first started dating.

“Hey, look at me baby” you reach out carefully entwining your hand with hers that lay on the matteress in the middle of the two of you.”I miss you, just let me hold you please?”you look into her eyes, lit only by the moonlight seeping through the window.

“I want you to but I just.. how can you still find me attractive, my bodies changed and I’m just so scared you’ll see all of me and just be disgusted”Wanda whispers, tears filling her tired green eyes.

Your heart clenches seeing your wife so upset.”is that why you’ve been hiding your body from me?”you whisper back. Wanda nods the tears falling down her cheeks. She removes her hand from yours to wipe them but you beat her to it carefully drying her tears with the pad of your thumb.

“I Remember when I first spent the night with you and I was so nervous for you to see all my scars, I thought they would make you see me differently, that you wouldn’t find me attractive enough, I felt like I was damaged,ugly.”

“They’re not ugly they tell a story, they’re part of you and your beautiful” Wanda states with certainty; upset that you ever though so lowly about yourself.

“Yeh I know that now because you helped me see them that way, I remember how you didn’t judge me you made me feel comfortable in my skin and I want to make you feel that way to.”

“Plus your body tells the greatest story ever. It has literally given the gift of life, it’s carried our two strong and healthy baby boys and I couldn’t be more proud of you if I tried. Your body represents strength and resilience and there’s nothing more beautiful than that, I swear.” Wanda looks for doubt in your eyes but sees nothing but sincerity.

Wanda gives you a soft smile before turning away from you, to face the window. You stare at her back defeated but before you can get up to leave Wanda reaches for your arm placing it around her midsection pulling you closer. She pushes back into you as you hold her tighter finally feeling her in your arms after what felt like so long. A few minutes pass and you hear Wanda’s soft breathes even out, signalling that she’s asleep, you follow soon after with a lazy smile on you face.

You open your eyes with a groan being awaken by cries coming from the nursery, you feel Wanda moving out of your hold but before she can your already up on your feet, “go back to sleep I’ve got them”

“Are you sure, you got up last time too” Wanda looks at you eyes still full of sleep.

“I’m sure; its the least I can do, you literally pushed them out , stay in bed” you smile bending down to leave a kiss on her cheek as you make your way to the boys room.

After giving the two babies a bottle and plenty of cuddles they were fast asleep again. You look down at them both asleep in their crib; how did you get so lucky. If ten years ago someone would have told you you’d have a wife and two kids, the perfect family; you would’ve laughed in their face. But here you are against all odds you made it, you and Wanda both did.

The clock reads 9am as you go back to your bedroom, with the intention of going back to sleep, but to your surprise you find Wanda standing at the foot of the bed, and you can’t help but notice the disregarded sweats and T-shirt from last night on the floor.

There your wife stood wearing a sexy red lace lingerie bra and thong set, with a black silk robe falling from her shoulders, much to your gratification; failing to hide much from your wandering eyes. You stand there in shock practically drooling from the sight of you wife, you hadn’t seen her without a sweatshirt for the past two months let alone practically naked.

Seeing Wanda start to play with her hand nervously breaks you from your trance and you notice the blush on her face getting more apparent, she catches your gaze before shyly looking down.

“Is it ok?” She whispers unsure, embarrassed almost.

You quickly move towards her, hands gripping her hips pulling her closer to you whilst she moves her arms up behind your neck, as your arms circle her waist, settling your hands on her lower back.

”it’s beyond ok, you look unreal, baby” you whisper into her ear, leaving a kiss there before moving your lips down to her neck, you bite down on her sweat spot making her release a breathy moan of pleasure. It’s musics to your ears. You know it won’t take much for both of you to reach a high seeing as you hadn’t had any skin on skin contact with each other in the last two months.

Taking you by surprise Wanda pushes you onto the bed before removing the black silk robe fully from her body before sitting on your lap.

You move your hands to grip her ass, giving it a squeeze causing Wanda to role her hips looking for friction to ease the growing tension. The thin material of her lace thong not doing much to hide her arousal that drips onto your thigh as she rocks back and forth.

Wanda reaches back to unclip her bra all whilst holding eye contact with you, almost as if she’s daring you to look down at her now exposed chest. Seeing how much of an effect her body has on you and how much you still crave her, grows Wanda’s confidence as she attaches her mouth to yours, kissing you passionately.

Wanda pulls away breaths heavy. She smiles at you as her eyes fill up, due to the overwhelming feeling of adoration and love before softly whispering;

“You make me feel beautiful detka”

[cressthebest]

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

while packing everything to move out my dorm, i had The Mischief Productions short films playing in the background. i was watching them all (again) and i am (once again) not okay

-A Night’s Tale (jegulus) is probably my favorite so far just because of the quality and also length. absolutely stunning

-THE WOLFSTAR ONE AHHHHH. it perfectly captures their volatile dynamic. remus and sirius DO argue and they DO fight, but they also mean the world to each other and wouldn’t trade a thing to have the other back safe. i love the way it displays their after school domesticity

-THE EVANS SISTERS RAAAAHHH. god, i love how it opens with james not able to use a phone. he’s so precious 😭😭 but also like, lily and petunia’s entire dynamic. you can see how hesitant both of them are to get close to the other. you can tell how badly they both want the other to care, but is too scared of getting close and getting hurt. ughhh that one was fantastic

-OMG OMG OMG i’ve watched the jily “The Lasg Christmas” one like eighteen times. it’s ridiculous how much i love it. omg everything from james and lily’s dynamic with each other, to seeing their little house, to knowing that harry is asleep in the room over. AHHHH. the way that LILY is the one who first splashes flour in james’ face to cause trouble. they belong with each other omg. AND WHEN PETER SHOWED UP HOLY SHIT I WAS NOT OKAY. god, they’re all besties. it shows that lily cared deeply for peter too. they were close. and the way they all sang along to queen, TOP TIER SHIT RIGHT THERE! you can see james-physical affection is how i show my love-potter was interacting with peter. AND THEN the gift exchange. i was not okay with the snow globe’s light going out. i think i cried all the way up until my eleventh or so watch of it. the snow globe going out absolutely destroys me. until the jegulus one came out, this one was my favorite. and quite honestly, i recommend watching this one more than watching the jegulus one, simply because i view this as heartbreaking canon, and the jegulus one is fanfic fluff.

-DORLENE MY BELOVED DORLENE MY BELOVED OMG. okay like so i’m at a loss for words over how fucking gorgeous this film is. dorcas and marlene are quite literally some of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen in my life. also, the scenery and the beautiful outside date they’re having <3 they had strawberries! and chess! and marlene was taking photos of dorcas! and they giggled and held each other!! AND THEY KISSED!! and they were in love! (and we’re gonna ignore marlene’s stresses about the war. cause yikes, i like to pretend that they all make it out okay)

1000/10 highly recommended any and everyone go and watch their short films. i view it as real cinema and THESE are my comfort films.

[thegaybluejay]

Okay hi I’m back with another ramble-y ATLA character analysis since this is low key my brand on here lmao-

Today I want to talk about Zuko from the lens of someone who also had to deconstruct. This will be long, but please bear with me!

I was raised in a very white conservative evangelical Christian bubble where literally EVERYONE I knew for the majority of my childhood and teenage years thought mostly the same way. There was a lot of othering and shaming of anyone who thought too differently. Even if it was sometimes said more passively than cruelly, there was always that underlying tone. “The others/the people outside of our group/the worldly ones are lost and need our help because we’re better than them!”

While I strived to not be cruel, my beliefs were still harmful. I lost a few friends when I got to my mid-late teenage years because I didn’t yet know how to challenge what I’d been taught.

I see so much of myself in Zuko.

Zuko was surrounded by propaganda his entire life. He was steeped in it - steeped in the blood of those that the system he supported/represented had hurt and killed.

Anger is a huge part of all of this. While my anger was never quite as outward as Zuko’s (I hid it fairly well and was always known as the “pretty good kid”), I can still so heavily relate to his anger. His anger at always falling just short of being good enough or perfect enough. His later anger at himself for not understanding how fucked up the system was sooner. His anger at the people that failed and hurt him. His anger at realizing how he failed and hurt other people. All of it.

I also understand his backslides in Book 2 and early Book 3. When you begin tackling the first layers of harmful shit you’ve been taught, it can quickly become so tempting to just call it quits and go back. You almost start to romanticize the simplicity of life before you began this journey. The rules and goals were so straightforward back then, and deconstructing is messy as hell. Even if you were deeply hurting in your old life, at least you weren’t so damn confused. You used to know your next steps, but now everything is in disarray and you don’t have a direction to rebuild in yet. Going back almost feels like it would be a survival tactic, a way to have a sense of control again. Zuko definitely 100% needed to atone for what he did in Ba Sing Se because it hurt others, and while I’d like to think I would’ve made a different choice in his shoes, I also get it on some level. The confusion stage sucks, and it’s not always linear either.

But then.

One day, something just clicks. You eventually deconstruct enough that you truly come to full terms with how fucked up it all is. And you realize that you don’t belong there anymore, and the version of you that DID belong was just a facade. The blinders fully come off, they’re never going back on, and a spark lights in you that prompts you to make a big change. The deeper you go, the more urgent this deconstruction becomes in your mind because holy fuck I have to do something about this. I want this shit out of my brain for good and I want to help make things better. I want to learn who I am and finally live that out.

THAT is one of the most pivotal points in the journey, and I loved seeing it within Zuko’s arc when he comes to this realization after the war meeting in Book 3 and leaves to join the Gaang. I also loved that they didn’t trust him the first time he came to them - both he as an individual and the system that he had once supported/represented had hurt these people, and it took some real apologies and some time to build up trust. It also wasn’t done with half assed centrism either - it was “I acknowledge that this system is completely broken and wrong and I will do everything in my power to help gut it from the top-down and restore it with love”.

This leads to another pivotal point in the journey - instead of being motivated by fear like you were when you were deep in the indoctrination or by the raw anger you first felt as you initially left, you start to be motivated by love. And it’s the most freeing thing.

It was so cool to see Zuko learn that, while his anger was a helpful tool (ie: the confrontation with his father and his overall anger at the corruption he saw in his nation), he couldn’t be fueled by it any longer. He had to find another motivation to keep going, and he was then taught by the Sun Warriors and the dragons how to be motivated by light and life and love and also how to use those alongside an anger that was finally righteous.

And with this, he was ready to fight. To fight for a cause he knew to be good. To fight arm in arm with his newly acquired family. To fight to fix what his nation had done to the world and to itself. To fight for love and peace instead of division and hate and destruction.

And wow is it a beautiful journey.

TL;DR - Zuko’s story is so powerful to those who are deconstructing and I love him so much! I also just enjoy doing character analysis hehe.

(I really love talking about ATLA, so if y’all want me to analyze other characters or even plotlines through a specific lens, feel free to submit an Ask and I will happily do so!!!)

(Also, quick ending note - this is just my personal experience with deconstruction! Other people’s retelling of their own deconstructions may be different from mine, and that’s totally okay!!)

[dovahkinniez]

I genuinely love your blog so much, I've definitely binged a few times haha. I was wondering if you'd do a NSFW alphabet for Kaidan from skyrim? I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and holiday season!

` 𖤓 . . . NSFW ALPHABET: KAIDAN.

Oh my god. You absolute angel. Thank you so much! I hope you have a wonderful Christmas/holiday season too, love.

So then, I expected either Kaidan or Farkas to be requested for this, I was right. Let's get into it. (I'm excited HAHA) ps. This hasn't been proof-read, any mistakes ignore, if I change any that's means I've had the motivation to read though... Enjoy anyway!

18+ only!! Sexual content ahead. Minors dni.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Kaidan is a naturally rough man with a rough outlook on life, but this doesn't apply to the aftercare he gives you. He loves the intimacy of feeling your bodies close after sex, in a non-sexual way where he feels you both calm down.

He likes to hold you, to help wash each other between sweet kisses and light conversations. After a rough session he'll massage you, you massage him and it's like a little bonding session between you both. He loves to be just a pampered and as looked after as you are after sex. He finds it more intimate than the act beforehand.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he likes his arms, hands and shoulders. They're strong and big. He likes how his arms hold you, move you about. He likes how his shoulders cage over you, how they hold your legs over them when he goes down, he loves how his hands make you feel.

Yours: your thighs and stomach. Doesn't matter how big or small. He loves them. To grab, kiss, bite, rest his head on. To hold when he fucks you. If you have a tummy he will grab during sex, it drives him wild. I see him liking a thicc mf. (Yum)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

I see him as someone who cums quite a lot. He's a horny mf and when he shoots, he shoots. He likes to cum in you, likes to fuck it further in you, to watch it ooze around you both. And on your stomach and chest too.

I think he strays away from doing it in your mouth for the simple reason he doesn't want it to be too much, if you're okay with a literal mouthful then go ahead, but you'd have to tell him you want it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hehe. He likes to watch and hear you pleasure yourself. He will pretend he's asleep if you do it beside him late at night. One eye open as he watches you. He doesn't touch himself, he doesn't interrupt. He finds it hotter letting himself rile up so he can wake up tomorrow and fuck it out his system with you. He's never told you he's done this multiple times and he won't because he wants it to happen again. And again.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has experience. Fuckin hell. I suggest you don't ask his body count, unless you want to leave with a bruise on your ego. Thing is though, you're the only one he's ever loved. He's had sex, a lot of it but never with people he loves or even really likes. Most he couldn't even tell you their name.

But all this experience has lead him to know what to do and what not to do. He knows what he's doing, and he's really good at it too. So say thanks to the many others before you, because you're his last and you get the best sex ever.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

I'd say he's a switch, with a huge dominant lean.

He loves it when you ride him. Laid back relaxed as he moans out into the air, dark eyes watching you as you use his cock as a toy to pleasure yourself on. Loves watching how your body moves, how it takes him.

Doggy. We know this. He just screams it. Loves it when you arch your back, face down, ass up. Grabbing all over your thighs and ass as he watches it shake with each thrust. DAMNNN. And when he leans down, hand holding your jaw up as he presses hot kisses along your neck and shoulders.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Depends. He's naturally quite a funny person once you get to know him, unintentionally that is. During sex he might come out with a few one liners that he says seriously but you end up dying of laughter, he laughs with you.

He believes its healthy to have fun while having sex because sometimes when you see sex as two naked people bumping bits it can feel awkward, so when you laugh it loosens that up a bit, especially if you are inexperienced and it's the first few times of you two having it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

This man doesn't care either way.

Whatever you prefer, he's easy come. Easy go. He ain't afraid to delve into the jungle if you prefer not to shave and he's too lazy to keep up with his own. He likes to do a bit of trimming because otherwise he's complaining about his 'dangly bits' annoying him if he shaves completely.

But he keeps his happy trail, hell yeah. I am a supporter of happy trails.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate, but not cheesy romance. More like 'fun and loving', he sees it as a fun thing to do, he likes to watch you and feel you and loves eye contact with lots of touching. So yeah. He is pretty intimate.

But don't expect candles and petals everywhere...

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He's a horny man. He loves a good wank. He isn't the type to do it like four times a day. Maybe four times a week. But he usually has you anyway so he doesn't need his fist as much anymore.

If you aren't as sexual as him, that's cool. He'll just had a wank and go about his day if he's horny enough. But he's always horny so..

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Face sitting ‐ loves it when you sit on his face. No hovering. None of that shit. Suffocate this man. If he ain't gasping for air after he ain't impressed.

Choking - both ways. Loves it when you take control. He knows he can easily overpower you but he doesn't because he just likes to let loose and let you take the reigns. But still, choke him, let him choke you. He loves it.

Degradation - again, both ways. Loves to call you his whore, and loves to fuck you like it too while grunting strings of degrading things into your ear, loves to mock you even more when he sees your reaction to said nasty things.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. You could have just taken down a dragon and he's like 'fucking hell, seeing you murder that thing was sexy. Wanna fuck?' And you're off behind a rock like the rest ain't behind the other side like ???

Lowkey loves it in taverns though. Having the stay quiet while the others drinks and sing, relax and sleep. Especially after youve both had a few to drink. Makes it more fun.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Pfffttt. Anything. You could bend over to pick up something and he's the type to grab your hips and pretend to fuck you. You even remind him of what happened last night and he's ready to do it all over again. He loves you, and your body and what both your bodies do together, how could he not want more?

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No threesomes or anyone involved at all. You're his, he's yours. Only you two could see and experience something as intimate as sex. He may like the excitement of being caught. But would kill anyone who set eyes on your body the way he does.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Likes to wine, dine and 69. He loves your mouth and you love his. Especially when used down under.

He's like a starved man, so hungry and ready. Definitely a messy giver, he gets off to it because he loves the taste and the feeling of his mouth against you. Like just imagine him drunk on you with his chin and jaw soaking wet - fucking hell.

Likes it when you lay with your head back off the bed so he can fuck your throat. Holding your head in place as you use your tongue and lips on him. Drives him crazy to see your throat expand and gasp as he slides it in and out.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually pretty fast. It really depends on the mood and specifically how you want it. He wants you to enjoy it as much as him. He likes to go slower after an emotionally waring day, to just lose himself in you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Again, depends on you. He's down to quickies, but he likes to make you feel good so if you're the type who needs time he'll make sure you're both able to have that time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

A bit of knife play. He's a skilled man and the way he handles his blade gets a fire in you. So maybe you asked him about it. He sees it as a risk. He never wants to hurt you or do something accidentally so you'd most likely have to talk him into it and reassure him. His Aftercare is 100% more important after sessions like this.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He lasts a long while I'd say, maybe not when you first got together because he hadn't had sex for awhile. But he gotten better and at not wanting to bust the moment you even touched him. He'd last up to an hour, three on a good day if he takes breaks to move positions. You and your body hold a lot of power over him.

He can go over two rounds. Especially if you haven't done it in awhile, he wants to make up for it.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's not opposed to them. Sex toys don't exactly like ... exist... in this world. But if you wanted to try something out, he'd never say no. He loves to try new things and spice it up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's a natural tease. He's so funny with it until you're about to orgasm and he's like 'aha. Not too fast there, darling', acting as if he hadn't done that multiple times.. So yeah. He is quite unfair. But he loves to lead you into the best orgasm physically possible.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Yknow when you're in a dungeon and he starts speaking loudly out of nowhere? Kind of like that. He goes from being generally quiet, the odd noise in your ear to him groaning and grunting. It's so hot. He mumbles a lot too. Cussing between gritted teeth.

W = Wild Card

He loves to fuck your thighs. Simple as. Xoxo

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Lol. He's big, around 8.5/9 inches long. He's thick too. Curves upwards slightly. It's kind of scary until you're used to it. I don't think he's the type to realise how big he is either. But he knows how to use it, really well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high, simple as.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He makes sure you're comfortable and sorted. He likes to chat too afterwards so he isn't the type to fall asleep fast after. Most times he falls asleep after you do because he likes to tell you stories as you sleep.

[enaspaces]

my shuri headcanons 𓃠

a dump of my thoughts because i love her and she’s taken over my mind

• on the trans/nonbinary spectrum. more specifically a demigirl and doesn’t care what pronouns you use on him. owns a binder for specific days that she wants her chest to look flat.

• very lesbian. her heart is for women and non-men 🏳️‍🌈

• i view her as a stud or a stem. it depends on how i’m feeling atm.

• she’s not just a nerd in the science sense she’s a huge fandom geek and has a stan twitter account to talk about her interests.

• also has fan edits of her favorite characters and interests saved on her phone. probably makes her own edits too.

• average minecraft enjoyer (she’s obsessed)

• reads a lot of wlw comics, novels, and other media bc they’re a gay ass.

• has AuDHD, argue with ur mama.

• is almost always seen wearing noise cancelling headphones or earbuds because she gets overstimulated at times. when she visits riri in chicago for the first time, the constant loud city noise is something he’s not used to. he had forgot to pack the headphones he made for himself so riri makes him a custom made pair to help him relax. they end up using riri’s more than their own. (riri indulgently put small cat ears on the top of them and shuri almost cried at the sight).

• catgirl energy. riri may make her look tall but that’s still a 5’5 girl twink that stopped growing at age 13. she’s small and likes to sit on counters, lab tables, the floor and any other weird place that’s not meant to be sat on. she curls up in a ball when she sleeps alone, and if she’s in the bed with someone else her limbs are all over their body. has cute sounding sneezes that m’baku makes fun of her for. one of the lab workers once found her asleep in a random corner of the room. naturally very light-footed and basically has human toe beans, making it very easy to sneak up on people without them hearing.

• has quite a few fidget toys to help her focus on work in the lab and ease her anxiety. a rubik’s cube, fidget spinners, stress ball, pop its, etc.

• she stims. so much. especially after she successfully completes a task or experiment and she’ll do a dance or do the lil hand flapping thing. her vocal stims are always random song lyrics or tiktok meme audios lol.

• has a sweet tooth. when okoye was a dora she’d occasionally bring candy or other sweets for her to snack on. riri goes to the store and buys him all the popular american snacks for him to try. nakia always has a mini stash prepared for when they visit her and toussaint in haiti.

• favorite color is purple. it just suits her.

• a GAMER™. she plays all genres but her favs are probably minecraft, puzzle, or rhythm games. did i mention minecraft? she loves it. riri loves rpgs and pvp games the most and has her play smash bros ultimate pretty often. they’re super competitive with each other and both sore losers lmao. shuri got her to play minecraft once and riri kept getting blown up by creepers.

• ↑ she becomes super close with mj, ned, and vivian through riri. they’re always on discord vc together playing games and doing many other things and it’s the most chaotic shit you’ve ever seen.

• if the word ticklish was personified. simply elbowing her in the stomach on accident would get a giggle outta her. every ticklish spot she has is extremely sensitive and you could have her curled up cackling in tears with ease.

• funny as hell for no reason. life of the party fr. she takes her jokester persona very seriously but sometimes she’s hilarious without even trying. the first time she ever smoked weed was with riri in her dorm and riri never laughed so hard in her life that day. shuri was literally all over the place. she’s definitely a lightweight too, just as goofy, giggly, and clingy in her drunken state.

• definitely likes kpop girl groups. I can’t prove it but they love loona you just have to trust me.

• also loves vocaloid and has a hatsune miku figure in her room somewhere. trust me on that.

• has a list of favorite black american artists. riri definitely put her on some r&b classics and less mainstream artists. has a massive celebrity crush on black women rappers.

• music taste is very versatile. her playlist has almost everything. she just can’t listen to one genre only, she’s too open minded and exploratory for that.

• he’s not one to fall in love easily, but when he does he falls hard. riri was the first person he ever fell for and it changed the trajectory of his life, poor thing had no idea what to do with that information.

• a romantic, lovesick loser. cannot flirt to save his life. flustering him is so fucking easy lmao. riri once called him shawty and he malfunctioned for 5 minutes. whenever he’s on the phone with riri his crush is genuinely so obvious to everyone around him. he be giggling and cheesing real hard 😭. kicking his feet squealing on the bed when he’s alone thinking about the cute nickname riri called him.

• her love language is acts of service and gift giving. she’s not always good with words or emotions so she expresses her appreciation towards her loved ones by distributing her wealth in many ways. buying riri things she might need for college, fixing stuff that breaks in nakia’s home. things like that.

• has trouble being vulnerable with those close to her. she’s lost so much, so opening up to new people is always a scary, big step. it took a while for her to let mj, ned, and viv into her heart because the closer she becomes with them, the more it’ll hurt if she loses them. they take her in with open arms regardless, because having a support system with people her age is something she needs. they take her seriously in ways that the elders don’t. they see her for who she is outside of being a royal figure to her country and allows her to be her full, authentic, geeky self. she’s able to grasp onto the youth that she almost lost when her family was taken away.

• very talkative. can infodump about an interest for hours and completely lose track of time if you let them. they cannot stay still when excited, nor can they keep eye contact, pacing around the room and darting their eyes everywhere while rambling about the history of vibrainium or something.

• maladaptive daydreaming. will lose herself in a song and start imagining scenarios in her head. t’challa once caught her in the act and refused to delete the video footage. sometimes, she pulls up the video her brother recorded just to hear his laughter in the background.

[rrxnjun]

I'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes I am) ;; lyy

pairing: liu yangyang x fem!reader starring: singer! lee jeno, drummer! wong hendery, bassist! zhong chenle, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, na jaemin, mark lee, aeri uchinaga genre: band au, guitar teacher au, strangers to friends to not-really-lovers, college au | angst, fluff, slice of life, coming of age wc: 20k (20.481) warnings: the main characters smoke, one mention of drugs, swearing, alcohol, the whole thing is kind of corny, jeno is a bad guy, a mention of sexual intercourse, a lot of pining, unrequited love tagging: @jaynaur bc she asked me to and also because i want to thank her for the support and excitement she shared for this fic<3 playlist: funeral grey - waterparks ; the only exception - paramore ; tantrum - waterparks ; 21 questions - waterparks ; sex sells - lovejoy ; freaks - surf course ; it follows - waterparks ; gloom boys - waterparks ; perfume - lovejoy ; high definition - waterparks ; i'm not angry anymore - paramore

living the rockstar life is not as easy and exciting as it seems-with a frontman that cares more about clubbing than the band, unrequited love for the girl that's, sadly, in love with the said frontman and a huge inferiority complex, liu yangyang finds himself tangled up in the mess of being the guitarist of the next rising local punk band.

FLOAT MY WAY, I’M MELTING FOR YOU

“Are you sure they’re coming?” Yangyang asks, illuminated by the subtle light of the lamp post shining at the end of the neighbourhood. The spot he’s standing in right now is the exact border between the calm, sleeping streets of the place he grew up in, and the rowdy nightlife of the centre of the town. Only a few steps across the road and he’s in the middle of it all– bars scattered all across the corners of the town square, havoc caused by teenagers at the early stages of the evening erupting through your eardrums with a lively sense of freedom. 

Liu Yangyang is standing at the border, quite metaphorically, but also quite literally as well. A few steps back into his neighbourhood and he’s back in his parents’ house, ready to go to sleep and waste another evening watching a few more episodes of Netflix Unsolved Mysteries before bed. A few steps back into his bed and he wasted another day of his youth– doing nothing, meeting no new people, having no memories he can tell to his children once he’s 45 and too old for the party life. A few steps to the other side of the street, though, and he’s walking straight to the excitement, straight to a new life, perhaps. The choice is his, and he could turn either way at any moment. There’s only one thing keeping him from walking away from the stoic place at the edge of the neighbourhood, though, and that’s his best friend Huang Renjun and his promising offer. 

The thing is, he and Renjun have known each other since middle school. They’ve been through thick and thin together, skipping through their high school years together, and finally, graduating on the same day, in the same class. They’re quite the best friends, and everyone knows that. While everyone thought that no one could ever break these two apart, there was one thing that wasn’t a constant in both of their lives, and that was the fact that while Renjun went to university, Yangyang never even applied. He had bigger dreams, ones that didn’t require a degree, and even though his mother wasn’t happy with his life choices, he insisted on making them anyway. 

But with Renjun attending university, there comes a bigger issue that Liu Yangyang didn’t expect to face, and that is the issue of his introverted, short bestie being more sociable than he ever was in high school. Soon enough, the older one had more university friends than Yangyang could count on the fingers of one hand, and while he was happy for him, cheering him on with both his studies and his social skills, he can’t lie, he still feels a bit threatened in the place of Huang Renjun’s best friend.

And that’s exactly why he’s now standing in the same spot at the edge of the neighbourhood for the last 25 minutes– Renjun is going out with all his university friends, and being the nice and considerate pal he is, he invited Yangyang to come with him. And Yangyang, known to have a big fear of missing out mixed with a hint of jealousy whenever his friend had more fun with other people that weren’t him, couldn’t find any other answer in him than to agree and head out with him.

“Of course they are coming! Just… let’s wait for a little more-” the boy cuts himself off when he hears a loud yell somewhere in the distance, making him turn his head around and stare into the space, looking for the source of it, because he’s very familiar with the tones of the voice and the ruckus that’s following each and every one of his friends’ step. 

There’s a group of five that arrive, diverse and interesting to look at. Yangyang assumes he’d be intimidated by them if he was to walk past them in the mall, but when he thinks again, he feels like that in this very moment as well– their gazes are sharp and every person looks like cut-out from a magazine or a coming-of-age movie he’d watch with Renjun when they were fifteen and figuring everything out. 

Looking at the small crowd, Yangyang wonders how Renjun even managed to be friends with them. They don’t seem like the kind that would be easy to approach, and they for sure don’t seem like they share interests with the young male. When he looks at the fairly tall man wearing a leather jacket that came towards the two of them first, it doesn’t seem like he enjoys art or reading in the quiet of his room at dawn like Renjun does. The other one, even taller and more muscular, seems like he enjoys racing more than he enjoys going to university, and so do the other ones– each one of the crowd is unique, but more intimidating than the other. 

Or maybe Yangyang just isn’t used to making friends anymore. Who knows.

“Hi! You must be Yangyang!” one of them announces, smiling and cheerful. His smile makes the ice break, the panic Yangyang felt on his insides stalling for just a minute, before he nods and smiles at him.

“Yeah, it’s me. And you are…?” he trails off, eager to hear the person’s introduction. There’s still faint hesitance in every move he makes, but he figures that he might as well start speaking to the little crowd soon, or he might embarrass himself in front of the cool university kids, and he really doesn’t want that. Three guys and two girls– must be easy. Let’s get it over with.

“Na Jaemin! It’s nice meeting you,” he says, politely smiling at him again and turning around, looking at the rest of the group. The seven of them start walking, the destination not known to the boy, but he follows them nonetheless, okay with not even knowing the rest of their names yet.

“I heard a lot about you,” Jaemin snickers, “Renjun can’t stop mentioning you in conversations. Every time us two are in a Chemistry class, he can’t stop chuckling and saying how you would absolutely despise it.”

Laughing, Yangyang nods. “That’s probably why I didn’t go to university.”

“Good. I regret going, but oh well…” Jaemin shrugs, already getting more comfortable with the conversation. “Anyways, since the rest of the group is totally unhinged and didn’t introduce themselves, I’ll be the nice guy and do it for them,” he grins, pointing to the guy that approached him and Renjun at first, “that is Hyuck. I promise he’s less intimidating than he looks, he just really desperately wants to be cool.”

“Got it,” Yangyang laughs airly, nodding.

“There next to him is Renjun, but I figure you know him… That bloke behind him is Lee Jeno. He’s what Hyuck desires to be, but isn’t. Next to him we have our ladies– to the left, Aeri, and hanging off his right shoulder, finally, Y/N.”

Grateful for the friendly introduction, Yangyang nods with a smile. “Great. Any idea where we’re going?”

Jaemin shrugs, pointing to the convenience store that’s magically appearing in front of them. “My best guess would be there, and then we head off to the skate ramp. It’s empty at this hour of the day, and there's plenty of room for all of us there.”

Yangyang tries his best to pay attention to everything that’s going on around him on his way in and out of the convenience store. He bought himself some Gatorade and Pringles, tagging along with Renjun and Jaemin, yet, he can’t help but ask himself why the rest of the group hasn’t paid any attention to his presence. Perhaps he’s too invisible– not interesting enough to spark a conversation with them, not cool enough to hang out with the rest of the group. 

He’s not quite sure if it’s the insecurities getting to him, or if he’s just right about his assumptions. Sometimes, it’s better to not know, though– reality might make him more hurt in the long run.

Finally getting to the skate park, Yangyang makes sure to stay close to the only people he knows how to talk to. Offering chips to Jaemin and Renjun, he manages to listen to the conversation just enough to know that Hyuck and Jeno are talking about some concert they’re going to over the weekend and that Aeri and you are talking about the project that’s due on Tuesday. Quite normal topics for teenagers to talk about, he thinks– the intimidation seeping off them must be a facade, or maybe his lack of judgement. Maybe he should reach out first and talk to someone, he thinks, but as soon as this thought creeps into his mind, it’s taken out of his head when a girl walks into his point of vision and offers him chewing gum. 

Seeing him turning the offer down with a smile, you shrug at him and kick the rocks under your feet. “You’re Yangyang, right?” 

For the second time that night, he finds himself nodding. The whole scenario looks like it’s cut-out  from a teenage drama, the scenery reminding him of an Avril Lavigne music video that he spent his childhood watching religiously. “Yeah.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, offering him a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies, wanting to be as polite and as approachable as possible.

Looking at you, he finds himself getting intimidated again. He feels like a kid hanging out with upperclassmen in high school– like someone who’s desperately trying to fit in and be mature about everything, waiting anxiously to be made fun of by the cooler kids around. You’re wearing dark clothing, long black pants and a grey hoodie thrown over your upper body, even though the heat of the summer makes Yangyang sweat in every crevice of his adulting figure. You look bold, not in your appearance, but in your aura– and something about you is dangerously pulling him in, leaving him wanting to get to know you better.

You only hum, seating yourself next to him on the tiny bench. Your thighs are touching as you stretch your legs in front of you, leaning back and supporting your body with your hands pressed into the surface you’re sitting on. “So, Yangyang,” you start, “what do you do in your spare time?”

Surprised by your question, and also acknowledging the way his name rolls off your tongue in a way he likes it the best, he shrugs. What does one reply to a stranger asking about their interests? It sounds like a trick question, when in reality, it truly isn’t. There are no wrong or right answers, yet, Yangyang feels like if he doesn’t choose the right one, he failed, and he can no longer hang out with Renjun’s friends and see you ever again.

“Oh,” he hums, “well, I used to babysit, but I realised that I swear too much to be around children,” he replies, earning himself a chuckle from your side.

“I asked what you do in your spare time, not what you used to do for work,” you repeat, catching the boy off-guard with your insistence. 

“I- well-” he stutters, suddenly ashamed of each and every interest he has, for he thinks they’re not cool enough, or that they’re not interesting enough to mention to someone like you. Short in time, with his imagination not as good to think of something unique, he spills the truth. “I like music, I guess? I play the guitar and I’m actually teaching guitar lessons to get some money so I can start a band one day, or something…” he explains, bashful.

He feels the heat slowly arriving to his cheeks, a pinch of shame behind his teenage dreams, when he’s met with a hum and a pleased tone of your voice when you reply.

“That’s cool,” you say, “Jeno has a band, actually, but they’re kind of shit,” you giggle. “I bet yours would be better, when you’re good enough to teach guitar, you know.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…” he mutters, not wanting to offend anyone.

“Jeno’s in uni as well, so he can’t really focus on music. You gotta show me how you play one day,” you say, the lightness in your tone making him feel like he’s imagining everything. He wasn’t expecting this outcome, and he for sure didn’t think you wouldn’t find him embarrassing. With your proposition to show you how he plays, even though it might be just a nice gesture from a stranger, he feels on cloud 9.

“And what do you like doing?” he asks, eager to get to know you better.

Shrugging, you point your gaze towards your shoes. “I dunno. I like art,” you say, reminding him of his best friend. Perhaps you’re the one that attends the art class with him, perhaps you’re the one he met first before he was introduced to the rest of the group. In the light-hearted conversation, Yangyang doesn’t find you as intimidating as before, but looks at you as rather approachable, the least scary of them all.

“Well, if I gotta show you how I play, you gotta show me your art sometimes, then,” he says, throwing the ball back to your side of the court. Smiling at his proposition, you only nod as you search the pockets of your jacket, seemingly looking for something.

“Sure,” you say. Yangyang dares to say he hears a spark of interest in you, a glint in your tone from the way your conversation went. He doesn’t want the moment to disappear, desperately needing you to find him cool, to be his friend, because you interest him so much– but at the same time, he fears that with one bad move, he might ruin everything. Talking with you felt like walking on a shattered glass, just waiting to get pricked by the sharp pieces scattered all over the floor.

When you finally find what you’ve been looking for– a pack of cigarettes and a lighter– you open the box and take out one of them, slipping it in between your lips. “Do you want one?” you ask, offering him the box.

Now, Yangyang wants to fit in– of course he does– but at the same time, he has his boundaries. Shaking his head in disapproval, he smiles at you with tight lips. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Shrugging, you light the cigarette and breathe in the nicotine, letting the smoke captivate your lungs. Blowing out a steady stream of greyish clouds, Yangyang watches you with fascination. He won’t go as far as saying he found you attractive like that– you were still damaging your health– but in his mind, he can’t imagine you without that pack of cigarettes in your hand and without the smoke blowing out of your lungs. It’s like you were completed by that small addictive box, like you two fit together, even though he wishes you didn’t have to. He likes you like that, though, he figures– he might need to throw it all just onto the aesthetics, though.

“That shit’s gonna kill you,” he mumbles, seeing you peek out at him from under your eyelashes. 

Smiling, you lean into him, your face dangerously close to someone who you just met a few minutes ago, he feels like he’s melting under your gaze. Shrugging, you blow the smoke into his face, white clouds floating his way in slow motion, a snicker escaping your lips before you move to your initial place, once again putting the cigarette between your plump lips and inhaling.

“Well, now you gotta die too.”

Looking at you, trying to come up with a better comeback, desperately needing to find out when he’s gotten so smitten with you, when you’ve engraved himself into his mind; trying to get you out and forget about you, he finds out, although a little shamefully,

that he’s willing to let you be his best mistake that he’s ever going to make.

AND I’M ON MY WAY TO BELIEVING 

Running his hand through his hair, he stops at the doorway of one of the houses in his neighbourhood. It’s only three streets away from his home, and he’s sure his mother would know who lives there, if he managed to ask before leaving, but to him, the people he’s going to meet are a mystery for now. Sighing heavily, he notes that he should get a haircut, since the hair he managed to push out of his face is now back in his eyes, prickling his eyeballs in the most annoying way possible, before he rings the doorbell and waits for someone to open the door for him.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, the clock reads 4:25pm– he’s 5 minutes early, just to be sure– and he’s going to one of his paid guitar lessons. 

Usually, he has fun in these. Mothers all across the town reply to his insert that he posted on Facebook Marketplace, and some grandmas even send him letters, replying to the advertisement they saw in the local newspaper. The kids he teaches are almost always very polite and easy to work with. 

When he arrives, he asks them what they know already, and he progresses from there. He’s not trying to act like he’s a licenced music teacher, because he’s not– everything he knows is all self-taught anyway, from watching youtube videos and playing the same songs with the same simple chords over and over again, desperately wanting to get his favourite songs right, until he progressed up to the point when there’s pretty much no song he couldn’t play after hearing it a few times and taking a look at the chords online. To the local neighbourhood kids, that’s enough– he’s an affordable teacher, and much more approachable one than the elderly men Yangyang’s parents wanted to hire when he was a kid. He refused back then, and he can’t say he regrets it.

Waiting at the doorway, he wonders who will wait for him behind the dark-wooded entrance. Perhaps a little boy– these are always the easiest to work with. They choose the rock, sometimes punk songs they heard on the radio or saw randomly pop out on the recommended page on youtube. Yangyang is happy with that, because that’s what he’s familiar with anyway. It brings him joy to see their faces light up when they get the chords right and when the strumming is similar to the one in the original song, and when he sings along, although a little silly, they even laugh at him and show gratitude with gummy smiles. 

He won’t lie. He likes his job. 

When the door finally opens, his eyes catch the sock-clothed feet of the person behind it. Eyes going up, noticing that the figure in front of him seems oddly familiar, his breathing catches in his throat and he feels his palms getting sweaty.

“Y/N?” he asks, a little taken aback.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, an expression you pull when you see another teenager in the mall with their parents, both of you shopping for groceries. It’s the awkward smile that says that you recognise their torture, for you are experiencing the same; that awkward smile that reads don’t laugh at me, because you’re in the same position. 

“Hello,” you greet, taking a step to the side so he can get inside. 

Yangyang freezes in his spot. His legs don’t move, too hesitant to enter the house you live in, and he suddenly regrets not asking his mum about the residents of this house before he left. Not that he would know that it’s you anyway, for his mum always provides him with the last name and the occupation of the parents, but at least a hint would be nice, perhaps a mention of a daughter his age, even; both of these would let him prepare for the rush of heat in his cheeks and the awkwardness in his visit. 

“Um…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “am I… am I in the right house?” he asks suddenly, embarrassment creeping into his veins. Mentally going back to the address in the text message he got three days ago, checking the house number only a few metres to the right of the front door, it’s as clear as daylight– he’s at the right place, at the right time. 

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows in confusion. “Will you get inside already, or are you going to stand there all day?”

Eyes wide, Yangyang nods hurriedly, finally stepping inside of the house. Taking off his shoes, making sure he takes his sweet time so he can calm his racing heart, he thinks of every possible thing he could say to you to make the whole encounter less awkward. Or is he the only one that feels awkward at this moment? Are you alright with everything that’s going on? You don’t even seem to be surprised, to be fair. Maybe you expected to see him at the door.

“So,” he starts as he finally straightens his back and meets eyes with you, “um… I came to teach guitar, so… where’s your sibling?” he asks, cracking his knuckles in the process.

“Sibling?” you repeat.

Feeling like he’s said something wrong, but continuing in his interrogation, Yangyang furrows his brows. “Yeah. To… teach guitar to?” he says, feeling more confused than ever.

“I don’t have a sibling,” you simply reply, spinning in your place and taking the stairs up, making Yangyang freeze in his spot in hesitance once again. This whole thing feels like a fever dream, and he doesn’t think he can wake up that soon. 

A few seconds pass in complete silence, the uncomfortness of it all making Yangyang’s ears ring, when footsteps march through the space and make him swing his head up, seeing you standing at the top of the stairs. “Are you coming? I thought I was paying you for teaching me the guitar, and not for standing around,” you mutter.

Teaching you the guitar? Now, every other person would comply and run upstairs, apologise for being all over the place, maybe even mumble a poor excuse of how they haven’t slept well and that’s why they’re not in their right place today. But this is Liu Yangyang– and you’re Y/N, the girl he met almost a week ago and hasn't been able to stop thinking about since. And that’s why Yangyang only simply stumbles over his own legs and drags himself upstairs, still trying to make his mind comprehend the whole situation and let himself process what’s happening. 

He appears in your room in a moment. The journey there has no memory in his brain, for he thinks he acted on auto-pilot, too lost in his thoughts. When the smell of you lingers all around him and punches him somewhere deep in his gut, that’s when he finally wakes up and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to.

The room looks just like he’d imagine it to look. It looks so, so definitely yours; with posters of bands hung all across the walls, stitched between with artwork and polaroid pictures, not one spot left empty in the whole room. The rug in the middle of the space is white and fluffy, the long bristles reminding him of the dog he used to have when he was a kid. There’s not much furniture in your room, and it’s also fairly small, but there’s everything a university student would need in a room at their parents’ house: a big bed, a closet, a bookshelf filled with literature and a desk that’s a little too messy, but still looks oddly organised. The last detail that completes the aroma of you in the room is the easel set in the corner of the room, right next to the guitar stand, like a little pair of necessities that belong together, never to be seperated.

He finds you sitting on the bed, the black acoustic guitar already nestled in your lap, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. The look you give him is unreadable– or he doesn’t know you well enough to read in your expressions yet. Taking a mental note of the urge to get to know you enough to know what you want to say even from a simple look thrown his way, he sits next to you and clears his throat. 

“Shall we start, then?” he asks, hearing you snicker.

“I’m waiting until you finally get a grip, you know,” you say, “I’m ready when you are.”

Your words make him feel the heatness in his cheeks again, embarrassment a familiar emotion to feel whenever he’s in your presence. He once again recognises that he feels strangely intimidated by you in this setting, suddenly scared that he forgot all the chords and he doesn’t know how to play anymore, even though the thought of that is ridiculous and unbelievable, since before, he was sure he could play Smells like teen spirit even in his sleep.

“Okay, so…” he starts, “let’s start with what you already know, and then we can progress from there, I guess?” he chooses the tactic he always does when he teaches the neighbourhood kids, but at this moment, everything about the guitar lesson is making him unsure in his skills. This is the first time he’s working with someone his age, and to find you being the one replying to his insert, it makes it all even harder for him.

“I mean… I know the basic chords, but that’s about it,” you shrug, averting your eyes off him. 

This is the first time Yangyang notices you shying away from his glance. He doesn’t dare to pin much importance to it, for he thinks it must be nothing, but something deep inside of him makes an assumption already and the air is suddenly lighter to breathe for him. He’s in charge now– he’s the one that knows everything, and you’re the one that wants to listen to him and learn from him. He’s not about power dynamics at all, since it would feel strange to pay importance to that, but suddenly, he no longer feels like he’s less from you, but rather on the same level, only a little more skilled, and that makes him feel more sure in his conversation and more strong in his moves.

“Okay, great,” he muses, “that’s a good start. Do you have a particular song that you would like to learn how to play? That’s usually the best way to learn, I think,” he suggests, glancing at you with curious eyes.

If he tried hard enough, he could maybe make out the song you’d choose by looking around your room and paying more attention to the posters on your walls. He’s quite sure he’ll be familiar with it, your music taste overlapping with his, although there are a few bands he’s not familiar with on the pictures on your walls and he suddenly wants to ask you all about them and let you recommend your favourite songs to him. He’d listen to them all afternoon, making sure to get every detail and search for everything that makes you enjoy them so much, trying to get to know you through your favourite melodies. He knows it’s too soon for a step like that, but he makes sure to keep it in his mind for later, when you two are closer; if that moment ever comes, of course.

“Hmm,” you hum. Suddenly, you stand up with the guitar still in your right hand, searching for something in the mess on your desk. There’s your phone in the grip of your left hand now, and with a few taps to the screen, you offer it to Yangyang, a site with the chords to the song you chose now shining on full display. “This one,” you mumble.

Now it’s your turn to look bashful. Yangyang notices the sudden shift in the atmosphere, liking how the awkwardness is suddenly out of his blood system but rather entering yours. Scrolling through the page, his eyes scan the chord progressions, nodding to himself as he recognises the tune, already playing in his head.

“Great! Let’s get to it, then,” he says.

Nodding, you stay glued in your place at the other end of the bed. Your guitar is still placed neatly on your right thigh, resting against it, waiting to be played. “Maybe try playing it so I can see what you need helping with?” 

The suggestion makes you nod, a nervous lick to your lips is made as you take the guitar pick into your right hand and nestle a little in your seat, trying to relax. Not wanting to make you more nervous, Yangyang makes himself not look at you while you play, resulting in letting his eyes roam all across your room, trying to remember the details just in case he’s never invited over ever again. 

You start playing in no time. Even a complete beginner could hear that you’re not used to the instrument yet– your strumming is inconsistent, the changing of chords slow and not all strings play when you press them– too weak for the note to ring. It’s okay, though; everyone starts somewhere and this was a good effort. The G chord is played wonderfully, as Yangyang recognises that this one in particular is not an issue amongst his students, but when you get to the D minor, Yangyang suddenly hears a sigh full of frustration as the strums don’t ring and you seemingly get a cramp into your left palm.

The melody, although a little chopped up and wonky, suddenly stops. You look over at your guitar teacher sitting to your right, trying to find help in him. 

“Your hand got cramped up?” he asks, voice full of consideration he uses when he teaches the small children. He let it slip unknowingly, but now that he recognised it, he prays you don’t make fun of him for the endearing tone of it.

“Yeah,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“I see,” he nods, shifting closer to you. He tries to be full of confidence, because then, it’s easier for him to mask the effect you have on him and the growing aspect of it the closer you physically are to him. Taking the guitar softly from your hold, he presses down the strings in the right order, three fingers used for the simple chord, strumming to let you hear the chord out loud. 

“What you’re doing wrong is keeping your thumb too far up on the back of the neck,” he says, showing you the way you were playing the chord before, “this way, you have to make more pressure to hold the strings down, and the uncomfortable position makes your hand cramp up. Try moving your thumb a little lower,” he explains, once again showing you.

You hum, taking the guitar back from his hold when he offers it to you. You try to hold the strings down in the way Yangyang’s shown you, but your fingers just won’t comply, too used to the way you were playing the chord before. Watching you with amusement, Yangyang chuckles to himself and unconsciously moves to you, reaching for your hand from behind, and manually moving your thumb closer to the bottom of the neck of the guitar. 

The contact of your skin on his burns him a little, even though he was the one that initiated it and touched you first, and he suddenly feels like a teenager once again, hating that the way he feels about you reminds him of the silly crushes he used to get on his classmates and never acted up on them in the fear of being rejected.

Moving back to his initial place, he sees you bite down on your lower lip as you strum down the strings, hearing the chord loud and clear, your hand in a way more comfortable position now. Humming again, perhaps in understatement, perhaps in satisfaction, you look up at Yangyang again, smiling a little. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. That’s what I’m paid for,” he snickers.

You roll your eyes at him, but your lips mirror a cunning smile. He teases you back with the words you used when he first arrived, making him wonder if you find him more fun now, when he’s relaxed. 

Sitting quietly, you try playing the song again, now a little more smoothly. Yangyang finds himself humming along, not daring to sing the lyrics just yet, since he’s not that eager to embarrass himself in front of you with his singing as he is when he teaches the kids. But when you look up at him and grin in amusement, he knows he did the right thing– the atmosphere is lighter now, the weight falling off his shoulders.

“You didn’t mention wanting guitar lessons when we last talked,” he says, going back in time just a week ago. 

“Yeah, well,” you stop playing, “I wasn’t really set on it back then yet.”

“I see,” he hums, “what made you change your mind, then?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you laugh to yourself. Putting the guitar down, between your bodies sprawled out on the bed, you fold your hands on your stomach. “If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh.”

Surprised by your request, for Yangyang thought there’s not anything in the whole world that could ever make you ashamed, he nods and agrees. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Squinting at him, as if to see if he’s truly honest with his promise, you breathe in heavily, getting ready to speak. “Well… remember how I told you that Jeno’s in a band?”

“Yeah,” he nods. How could he forget? That dude has everything Yangyang ever wished to be.

“So… his guitarist is kind of a dick,” you start, “he doesn’t go to practices, skips the gigs, shows up high sometimes… so Jeno wanted to kick him out and find someone better. And I kind of wanted to be the replacement, but…” you trail off, not daring to look at Yangyang in fear of hearing his laughter.

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to pay me for way more lessons to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” Yangyang notes, not trying to make fun of you– rather just tease you, to lighten up the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “you’re right. But maybe you could join them.”

“Me?”

“You said you wanted to have a band,” you mumble, shrugging, “this comes close, at least.”

Grinning to himself at the proposition, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. “You haven’t even heard me play. For all you know, I could be a total fraud.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes squinting in examination once again. “You’re right, dude,” you mutter to yourself, “play me something, then. I’ll be the judge if you’re the one suitable to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” you say, throwing his own words back at him, trying to act out his voice in a teasing manner.

Singing, Yangyang shakes his head at your proposition. You must believe him– otherwise, you wouldn’t have texted him to give you guitar lessons, after all. To fulfil the promise he’s given you back in the skate park, though, he takes the guitar laying between your bodies, straightening his back and sitting in a more comfortable position, he presses down the chords you so desperately wanted to learn just a few minutes ago, before you two got lost in the conversation.

A simple G, D minor, a C major 7. Repeating over and over, a strumming pattern so easy and comforting, it’s forever engraved into his brain. He remembers hearing the song for the first time when he was younger, too embarrassed to admit to Renjun that he likes it, since he was always posing as the emo kid in the town. The band might suit the genre, but the lyrics are as sweet as sugar, so romantic it makes his heart clench. 

Caught somewhere in between it all, in the midst of the moment, hearing you silently hum the lyrics to the song you’ve shown him, Yangyang foolishly finds himself dedicating the song to you. This is the second time you two have met, but your whole presence, the way you scrunch up your nose when you laugh, the way you are so genuine and straight-forward, with nothing to hide, he finds himself pulled towards you, wanting to know you deeper, desiring to explore every last crevice of your inside.

He never wanted to be in someone else’s band. He always wanted his own, so he can be in charge of everything, so he can be the leader everyone follows. But if being in Jeno’s band meant meeting you more often, he figures he could try it out. Who knows, he might even like it.

He’s never tried so hard for a girl before. He never really had the urge. Spending his days with blissful carelessness, wasting away his youth by doing nothing, he never really found anyone to yearn for as hard. He swore he was content with loneliness, but perhaps, no one before was ever worth the risk.

Just like in the song he’s playing, you are the only exception.

SO EXCUSE MY TANTRUM, CAN’T YOU SEE I’VE GOT MY HANDS FULL?

Leg nervously bumping up and down, Yangyang chews on his bottom lip as the buildings behind the windows of the car blur into themselves and motion him forward. Hearing a low beep coming from his lap, where he threw his phone after aimlessly checking Instagram for the seventh time today, he reaches for the device and unlocks it.

y/n: are you close yet

Looking around, trying to find out where the hell he’s even going, he turns to his best friend on the driver’s seat. “Are we close?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Renjun mumbles, turning on the left blinker and taking a turn towards that direction, pulling up to a street Yangyang’s never seen before in his whole life. 

“Y/N,” he answers, checking all the houses, as if to try to see if you show up at the doorstep of one of them, awaiting their arrival. 

“We’re quite literally 15 metres away from Jeno’s house,” Renjun mutters, turning down the music playing on the radio. Yangyang hums in understatement, quickly looking back over to his phone and typing a swift reply.

yangyang: we’re here 

As the car comes to a halt, parking at the edge of the sidewalk in front of one of the houses on the street– each and every single one of them looking the same, with white walls and a brown roof, creating a homely atmosphere– Yangyang finds his nerves rise even more. It’s not like he’s meeting Renjun’s friends for the first time, after all, so he really doesn’t get the sudden rise in adrenaline. Sure, he only saw Jeno, Jaemin and Hyuck once, but at least him and you are pretty acquainted by now, considering that he gave you guitar lessons three more times since the last time, before he finally agreed on meeting Jeno and his bandmates for a band practice; just to see if he’s fit, nothing more.

Maybe he just really wants to impress everyone. The rest of the band is filled with strangers, so maybe that’s where his anxiety is coming from. 

He almost opens his mouth and tries to talk about it to Renjun, since the boy always gets his emotions and tries to help him calm down whenever his overthinking is getting too irrational, but when he jumps out of the car and closes the door behind him, there’s a screech coming from the small gate leading to the property, making his eyes drift towards the source of the sound. 

You wave at the two, standing in the open gate, a shining grin plastered onto your face. After Yangyang gets out his guitar from the backseat– the electric one, as you specified in your texts last night– you run up to him and envelope him in a quick, yet, comforting hug.

He didn’t realise you’ve gotten this close, but he welcomes the embrace with open arms. He catches a sniff of your perfume– a mix of roses and vanilla, sweet, but also light. It travels from his nose all the way up to his brain, numbing his senses. If this was the only smell he could feel until the end of his life, he wouldn’t complain.

“Finally! They’re all waiting for you in the garage,” you say, leading the pair towards the house. The gate to the garage is open, revealing a group of people clammered in the small space, leaving Yangyang at least some time to prepare for all of them.

Going up to the make-shift practice room in Lee Jeno’s garage, Yangyang puts on his best charming smile, hoping to seem at ease and not at all awkward. Adjusting the guitar in his hold, he comes up to the group and greets them with undeniable ease.

“Hello,” he says, watching Renjun as he fist-bumps the rest of his friend group and sitting at the old, orange couch in the corner of the garage.

“What’s up, man,” Jeno says as he comes up to him, once again, with a handshake. Yangyang begins to wonder why he always looks so cool– even when he’s wearing simple sweatpants and a Nirvana shirt enveloping his torso, he looks like he’s cut-out from a Rolling Stone magazine. He doesn’t even need that bloody leather jacket to look good. Life truly is unfair.

After greeting everyone, Yangyang finds himself awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. There wasn’t much space for him to sit, but that was okay– he was here to play the guitar anyway, he could stand. The garage was filled with people he knew, and also didn’t. It felt weird to have such a big audience. He felt like that time when he applied for the school’s talent show; he almost pulled out the minute he saw the tens of people sitting on the folding chairs in the school’s auditorium, waiting for him to begin playing. 

He recognised Jaemin– who warmly smiled at him when he went up to him and greeted him with a rehearsed fist bump– and he also recognised Hyuck, Jeno and you. There was a guy sitting in the corner of the room, who he was told was Mark and he was here to ‘hang out’, and the other two were Hendery and Chenle, the band’s drummer and bassist.

“Want some beer?” you ask, looking at him brightly from your spot next to him. He shakes his head in disapproval– he didn’t really like the taste of it, and much to everyone’s dismay, he was a light-weight and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of everyone sitting in the garage, watching him perform. 

Yangyang’s left feeling lonely even in the full room of people. It’s somehow alarming, but also understandable. He’s not close to any of the people here, except from Renjun, and he’s been with him for the last few hours, so it’s only natural for his friend to drift towards someone else now. Looking around the garage, he spots a sign in the corner of the room, a long, white fabric spray-painted with red. 

Chucky Tribute, it reads. Finding himself chuckling under his breath, you look over to him, raising your eyebrows to find out what he’s laughing about. Pointing towards the sign, you only roll your eyes with a grin.

“That’s the band’s name,” you whisper sincerely into his ear, “Jeno’s a fan of the Chucky movies.”

Upon hearing this, Yangyang already knows he signed up for a wild ride.

After some more catching up between Renjun and his friends, and some awkward conversation that sparked between Mark and Yangyang after he recognised the anime on his shirt, Jeno turns to him with the true reason for his visit today.

“Okay, so,” he starts, “we could try to play something together, so we can see if you’re the fit to be in the band,” he says. Something about his sentences makes Yangyang feel like he’s looked down upon– as if Jeno was the master of everything, not believing that someone like Yangyang could be good enough to be in his band, however small and underground it might be. Looking over at you in the corner of the room, seeing that you’re a regular at the band practices, gazing at him with a hopeful smile, he complies, though.

“Not that we have any doubts about you, though,” Chenle, the bassist chirps from the other side of the room, “our last guitarist was a stinker anyway, so there’s no way you could be worse than that, really.”

“What they’re trying to say, essentially, is that their standards are low in the first place, so there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Renjun teases from his spot next to Jaemin, earning a laugh and a playful bump to his shoulder from Hyuck sitting on his other side.

“Right,” Jeno rolls his eyes, trying to organise the whole evening at least a little, “anyway. Back to what I was saying… maybe you can try playing something and then we’ll see, I guess… I don’t really know how to go about this anyway,” he shrugs, watching Yangyang with curious eyes.

Yangyang feels his palms sweat, but he gets up from his spot nonetheless, getting his trusty, beloved guitar he got from his mother for Christmas out of its case and plugging it into the speaker. Strumming the strums a few times, as if to practice, he nervously clears his throat and points his gaze towards the neck of the guitar– even though he’s certain he could play it even if he went blind– just so he doesn’t have to look anyone in the eye.

Putting his fingers into their right places, he starts improvising. No one really told him what to play, so he assumes they don’t really want to hear any song in particular, so he doesn’t even try to imitate something or fish for chord progressions to anything in his mind in the first place. Moving fast across the guitar’s neck, he masters a melodic play, something he himself is kind of impressed with, something he doesn’t feel ashamed to play. He gets really into it, momentarily forgetting all about his surroundings, as he often does when he plays the guitar, when a low rhythm of drums flows into his ears and makes him look up, seeing Hendery grinning at him from his place behind the drumming kit.

Not a moment passes before Chenle gets to his bass guitar, completing the rhythmic section of the band. The melody flows through the walls of the garage, making Yangyang smile in joy, because only now does he truly feel in his element, when Jeno picks up another guitar and the whole make-shift symphony makes the audience cheer and yell in amazement.

When the players get tired and the song is done, Yangyang finds everyone clapping, making euphoria run through his veins. Perhaps this is what he was always destined to do– and even the slightest hint of the cheering of an audience, all because of his song, is like a gas fueling an engine, a spark that creates the fire in his soul. 

His eyes subconsciously find your figure, standing up from your seat. Your eyes light up and your lips are tugged into the brightest smile he’s ever seen on you, running up to him with much force, arms only dangling by your sides,

before you pass him and he finds himself turning around, watching you envelope Lee Jeno in a fierce embrace.

“That was so good! You did so well, oh my god!” you cheer.

The euphoria fades. Yangyang’s smile drops only a little.

I WISH THERE WAS A SITUATION TO BE MAD AT, OR A PERSON I COULD BLAME

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of your bed, strumming your guitar softly, the sun starts setting and the orange hue makes the features of your face soften. Your room turns into a quiet abode, only filled with the sound of the guitar, mindless chords blending together beautifully as Yangyang continues playing, staring at your face.

“You know you still have to pay me if you call this a guitar lesson, right?” he says, watching you as you lay on your bed, legs pressed against the wall and your head hanging off the edge of the mattrace.

“Yeah,” you reply, “it is a lesson, just so you know.”

“You haven’t picked up the guitar the whole time I’m here,” Yangyang notes, laughing.

“I’m practising listening today,” you mumble, looking at him with eyes squinted from your teasing grin. 

“Didn’t realise I was your personal jukebox.”

“Shut up and continue serenading me, won’t you?” 

Snickering at your comment, Yangyang continues to mindlessly strum the guitar, wondering how and when exactly he got into this situation. A few weeks ago, he didn’t even know about your existence, and now, he’s locked up with you in your bedroom multiple times a week, giving you guitar lessons and sharing small-talk with you when you invite him for dinner to your parents’ kitchen and feed him dry cereal instead.

He’s not confident enough to sing in front of you just yet, but humming the lyrics in his brain is enough for him in this situation, for they fit the whole scenery with a 100% accuracy; I think I've lost my mind/ blurring the fact and the fiction/whilst simultaneously fixing/myself up with a girl named Panadol.

“Have you ever written a song?” you ask suddenly, not once initiating eye contact with him as your head is still hung down the edge of the bed.

“Not really,” he replies, but if the two of us continue meeting this often, I might start, he thinks. “You?”

Humming, you take a few seconds before you reply to him. “I have.”

Your words surprise him, making him halt in his movements. “No shit,” he blurts out in awe, “show me!”

Awkwardly laughing to yourself, you finally plop yourself up on the bed and sit opposite of him, shaking your head in disapproval. “No. Not a chance.”

“Come on!” he insists. “You can’t expect me to not be curious about it, now that you mentioned it.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for me to show it to you,” you mumble, “not even Aeri knows about it.”

“We meet up multiple times a week, and since I’m your trusted guitar teacher, I think I deserve to hear your music progress,” Yangyang pouts, trying very desperately to get you to show him what you’ve written. 

“There’s no use in trying, you won’t convince me,” you laugh, set on your decision.

“What do I gotta do, then?” he snickers. “Play 21 questions with you?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “maybe I’ll show you after that.”

Knowing damn well that you won’t– because Yangyang knows that it’s not as easy to show someone you don’t know that well something that you treasure so close to your heart– he nods and sets the guitar aside, getting ready to play the stupid game with you, just so he can finally know more about you. Sure, he might just learn some trivia about you; things that barely matter in the bigger picture that is life, but he will get anything he can, because you’re basically his biggest interest in life at the moment, right behind music.

“Okay,” you nudge him with your foot, “shoot.”

“Why do I always gotta start?” he gasps, a little offended.

“Because!”

“Okay, alright,” he rolls his eyes, “what’s your favourite colour?”

Sighing at his generic question, you shrug and point towards your torso, hugged in a grey hoodie. Realising it’s the same one you were wearing when you two first met, Yangyang smiles a little, but resolves into teasing you again. “That’s not a colour, that’s a shade.”

“Don’t disagree with me,” you snap back, furrowing your brows. “It’s a colour.”

“It’s a shade of black, actually, so it can’t be your favourite colour-”

“Fuck, okay,” you roll your eyes at him again, irritated, “fine. When did you start playing the guitar?” you ask, changing the subject.

Searching through his mind for an answer, Yangyang hums, lost in thought. “I think I was like eleven, or something?” he says, sounding more unsure than in his final exams, when he forgot what the topic was about. 

“Eleven?” 

“Yeah. My mum got me my first guitar for my eleventh birthday. I kind of sucked, but I enjoyed it anyway,” he says, smiling to himself.

“When did you first want to be in a band?” you ask again.

“If you ask now, that means you’ve wasted another one of your questions and I can go twice in the row next time-”

“Just answer the damn question, Yang!” you curse at him, playfully hitting his knee.

“Jeez, alright,” he mutters, “chill out.”

“I can’t chill out if you take the rules of 21 questions this literally!” 

“Okay, okay!” he puts his hands up in a defending motion, grinning at the annoyance in your face. Something about pushing you over the edge, making you completely annoyed with his antics, makes a spark of joy illuminate his insides. It’s like he’s doing his job right– getting on your nerves, but still being the tiniest bit endearing with it. “It’s actually kind of funny, you know.”

“Is it?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “I was in surgery when I was like… nine? Maybe ten, I’m not entirely sure. And when I was in a coma, I had this dream where I was on the stage performing my most favourite song, and I had the best time ever. So that’s kind of when I decided that this is what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Looking at him with endearance, you laugh at his story. The noise makes Yangyang feel like he’s on cloud 9 again, the state of euphoria you bring him into once again swimming through his veins like he’s on drugs. 

“No way!” you giggle.

“I’m serious!” 

Laying on the bed, getting more and more comfortable in his presence, you plop your feet into Yangyang’s lap and rest your head in your crossed hands. The sight of you like this, making physical contact with him, comfy and snuggled up in the blanket, Yangyang almost makes his imagination run too far. It almost feels like he’s in your personal space, the only person you let in, it’s like he’s your boyfriend, sitting in your room and chatting about everything and nothing at all at the same time, just enjoying your time together.

“Your turn now,” you say,  waiting for his question.

Humming in response, he carelessly rests his hands on your ankles, finding their place there as if they were made to be there from the very start. “What is your song about?” 

“Yangyang.”

“What? I didn’t ask you to sing it to me, or to show it to me. I’m simply just asking about it, that’s different,” he explains, a voice of a know-it-all that always got on everyone’s nerves.

“Still! Can’t you ask something else, then? I’ll answer everything, but that.”

“Okay. What’s the name of the song?” he asks, grinning teasingly.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re not playing anymore-”

“Fine!” he stops you, tugging you back to your place by your ankles when you dare to move away, as if you wanted to escape him altogether. “I have another one.”

“I swear to god that if you mention my song again, I will physically-”

“When did you start liking Lee Jeno?” he asks.

Your voice cuts out, the whole moment freezes. He feels like he’s in a youtube video, put on pause, stood in the same motion, holding the same expression. In reality, he’s trying to stay stone cold, expression stale, so you don’t realise just how much he cares about your feelings towards the boy. 

You’re shocked, he can see it in your face. Maybe no one’s ever noticed before. Maybe he’s the first one; but the truth is, it’s not that difficult to see when you get so cheerful whenever he’s around, subtly touching him and sending compliments and light-hearted teasing his way whenever you get the chance. 

Or maybe it’s not that obvious at all. Maybe Liu Yangyang just pays too much attention to who’s the object of your interest.

Strange, isn’t it?

PILLOWS PRESSED UNDER YOUR KNEES

Grinning to himself, playing the last few notes of the song Jeno and his friends wrote a few months ago, Yangyang finds you sitting at the old couch in front of him, your phone pointed towards the little show. The video of him playing the guitar will soon hit your Instagram stories, and Yangyang will widely grin as he realises it’s him that you’re showing to the whole world on your social media, and not Lee Jeno, as one would expect.

Once the song is done and over, you clap with much excitement and Yangyang smiles at you. The band practice is now over and he moves to the guitar case he left next to you on the floor, hiding his guitar in it so it doesn’t get damaged.

“That was good,” Jeno says, sitting at the armchair in the far right of the garage, getting out a pack of cigarettes from somewhere and lighting one between his lips, “we’re gonna rock that show. It’s good you got the songs so fast, Yangyang, or else we would be fucked.”

“I’m a professional,” he shrugs with a grin, earning himself a laugh from Chenle. 

Sitting on the couch next to you, he finds himself enveloped in a weird sense of euphoria and excitement. In a week, he’ll be playing his first ever concert– Jeno said not a lot of people will attend, since they’re not known as much in the town, but it’s still something. A first step towards something, if you will. And Yangyang is happy with taking things slow this time around. Sure, he’d be happier if the band wasn’t called Chucky Tribute, and yes, admittedly, he’d be glad if the songs he played were his and the lyrics were more thought-out and not as surface-level as they are, but he’s happy with what he’s got. Better than nothing, right?

“I better head home soon,” Yangyang mumbles, standing up from his spot on the orange couch. Being around all those people without Renjun still feels kind of awkward, but he concludes that he can work on it some other day. 

“We’ll just pack our things and go as well,” Hendery nods, “this was a good one, guys!”

“Man, I would do anything for a spicy McChicken right now,” you mutter, looking around at Jeno, “wanna order and watch Netflix?” you ask him, the question feeling like a knife in Yangyang’s back. 

The thing is, you two established that Jeno is the guy you like a few weeks ago, back in your room. Yangyang promised to himself that he’ll try to get over you, but it’s not as easy as it seems when you’re everywhere he goes; your presence is enough to make him like you even more and more, and that’s a fact that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

“Nah, I’m not really feeling it today,” Jeno mutters, not even meeting your eyes as he scrolls through his phone and takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall to the dirty floor.

“Oh,” you say, the hint of disappointment in your voice is too noticeable, breaking Yangyang’s heart a little. He wonders how Jeno could be so blind, and mentally curses at him for turning you down, because god knows that if he was in his place, he’d never say no to you. “ I- I better go as well, then…”

Paying your goodbyes to the rest of the band, Yangyang finds himself outside of Lee Jeno’s garage, hesitantly scratching his neck with the offer he’s about to propose. “Still up for that spicy McChicken?”

“Hm?” you hum in question, looking at him with big eyes.

“We can drive to Maccies together, if you wanna. I’m starving,” he proposes, seeing something behind your eyes shift– perhaps relief, or hope, from seeing that someone is still up for hanging out with you, even though you’ve been turned down from the object of your desire.

Kicking the rocks under your feet, you shrug. “I mean… I’m down, I guess.”

“Okay, sweet,” he nods, striding towards his little Volkswagen Golf that he got from his father when he decided to buy a new car, “let’s go.”

Your body drags itself into his white car, slumping into the passenger’s seat. The disappointment in you is still very much seen in the slouching of your shoulders and the frown that is ever-so delicately written into your face, but Yangyang makes it his quest to make you feel better. Turning the engine on and turning up the music in the radio, being quite satisfied with himself that he put the Paramore CD in before he left, he drives off Jeno’s driveway and strolls through the city, into the McDonald’s at the edge of the town. The one in the centre is closer, but that one doesn’t have a parking lot– that’s why he’s opting for the safer choice. 

When he finally gets there and parks in one of the vacant parking spots with much struggle, to be fair, since this was the part where he almost didn’t make his driving test when he was getting his licence, you follow him outside of the car, a little more stride in your step than before. When you get into the McDonald’s and find your place in the line of people wanting to order, Yangyang’s body situates itself right behind you, looking through the menu. He usually gets the chicken wrap, but just to be fancy, he will get it with fries and a coke today as well.

“One spicy McChicken,” you order, smiling at the cashier behind the pult. 

“Coming right at you. Anything else?” 

“No-”

“And one chicken wrap with fries. And two cokes, please,” Yangyang orders, catching a glimpse of your confused expression, “it’s on me,” he mentions, seeing you roll your eyes.

“You know, in any other circumstance, I don’t let men pay for me,” you say, “but I also could not care less today, so go ahead. I’ll pay next time,” you promise, seeing him get his card out and paying for your meal. 

Once the order is ready and you two take a seat in one of the ugly red booths in the corner of the room, you unwrap your burger and get right to it. Yangyang watches you with undeniable adoration. Everything about you is full of amazement for him– the way you manage to not get the sauce all over your face, the way you don’t bat an eye over the spice in the burger. He studies your face, grateful that you don’t look at him, but rather watch the world behind the window, making him not caught. 

“Want some fries?” he asks, offering you the pack and glancing at you. Turning your head to him, you sigh.

“I really wanna get over him, you know,” you start, putting the burger down and pulling at your hair in frustration, “I hate that I’m still so caught up with him. I despise it. But he’s so sweet, and he’s so charming, and I’ve known him since forever! It’s just so hard to let go of him, but I know that I should, because none of this is good for me in the first place…”

“I mean… that’s not what I was asking, but go ahead,” Yangyang mumbles, seeing you crumble in front of him, all frustrated and heartbroken because of his bandmate. 

“It would be easier for me to move on if he was a complete dick, you know,” you mutter, pouting a little from the sadness in your heart. The expression is kind of adorable in Yangyang’s eyes, but a little heartbreaking nonetheless, for he knows the frown is genuine and there’s nothing he can really do about it.

“Give it some time, Y/N,” Yangyang finds himself saying, “time heals everything. Don’t push yourself into anything, because that’s only gonna make you feel worse in the long run. Let yourself feel things, you know,” he shrugs, seeing you watching him with eyes big, resembling pools full of emotion he’s not even going to try to decipher.

Taking a bite from your burger, you smile at him with a full mouth, an expression that would look disgusting coming from anyone else, but you. “Wow,” you say, “didn’t think I’d get actual, useful advice from you, you know.”

Gasping, Yangyang acts hurt. “So you’re saying my advice is useless? Haven't heard you saying that when I teach you the guitar.”

“We could argue and say that that’s not really advice,” you grin, kicking his leg under the table, “but no, I’m serious. Thanks. I guess I really needed to hear that right now.”

Smiling at you, grateful that he was able to help you at least a bit, Yangyang offers you the fries again, watching you take one and plop it into your mouth. “I’m glad you understand me, though. Aeri doesn’t help much, since every time I talk about Jeno, she keeps bad-mouthing him and telling me how I’m blind if I like him that much. You should have heard her what she said when she found out that we-”

Raising his eyebrows at you in question, Yangyang hums. “You?”

“We…” you nervously laugh, trailing off.

“You what?” 

“I- well… Promise not to tell anyone? I wouldn’t be telling you this at all, but I already started and you seem like a person that I can trust with this, but please, swear to god that this will stay between you and I only,” you say, quite sincerely, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he nods, “what is it, then?”

“We… me and Jeno hooked up once,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek, eyes drifting away from Yangyang’s, “it… it was a while ago, after one of their shows back in July, and I thought it was getting somewhere after that, but Jeno… Jeno didn’t really seem like he wanted something more, so I just never talked about it with him after that.”

Blinking a few times at you, feeling like someone’s just suddenly unplugged his brain, leaving him with no power to gather his thoughts, he stays silent, trying to process everything. His blood goes cold and the food in his mouth suddenly tastes like dirt, his mood dropping instantly, for Lee Jeno had more of you than Yangyang ever will, and all of that while not caring for you near as much as he does.

“Don’t judge me,” you say, awkwardly laughing to yourself.

“I’m not judging.”

“Yes, you are, I can see it on your face!” 

“I’m not judging!” he insists, finishing the last bite of his chicken wrap. 

“What is it, then?” you push him, stomping your feet under your table. “Your face changed. You’re judging.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” he blurts out, “not you, though.”

Looking at Yangyang for a few seconds, your eyes soften. Pulling your lips into a tight line, an expression only vaguely reminding him of a smile, you nod and sigh in understatement. 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m getting over him.”

I DREAM OF YOU ALMOST EVERY NIGHT, HOPEFULLY, I WON’T WAKE UP THIS TIME

The drums ring all the way from his feet towards his heart, making it bump quicker and quicker as the rhythm changes and Hendery starts playing the opening melody of their last song of the night. Yangyang scans the crowd once more, trying to engrave it into his brain forever, trying to remember all the faces and all of their expressions, their outfits and haircuts, their lively smiles and cheers coming out of their mouths at each song they perform. This is the first time Yangyang is playing for a crowd that seems to be enjoying itself– he never knew that Chucky Tribute could have this many fans.

According to Chenle and Renjun, Jeno is kind of a big deal at their local university. He can only imagine that half of the crowd are his admirers; each girl in a prettier outfit than the other, screaming louder than the other in a non-spoken competition over his heart. 

The view of the crowd enjoying the music is a lovely one, for sure. But when Yangyang’s eyes finally land to the very middle of the crowd, the spot he was saving for last, he realises that the sight of you in the crowd, holding your hands high as you jump around to the familiar songs, occasionally taking a picture of the band or recording a short video, that this sight– the sight of you, is for sure his absolute favourite.

“Are you ready to jump? Let’s go!” Jeno cheers into the microphone, the whole crowd that is currently packed in one of the medium-sized bars in the centre of the town listening to him and doing as he pleases– going absolutely crazy, jumping around and screaming when the chorus hits and some of them recognise the lyrics. 

A doll with red hair lands on stage, thrown there by a grinning girl in the first row, making Jeno chuckle and take it from its spot on the floor. Yangyang soon realises it’s Chucky– Jeno’s most favourite fictional character, the one he named his band after. It’s kind of funny, the sight of the rockstar running around with the doll in his hands, screaming the lyrics to his song, and he almost lets out a loud laugh when the frontman gets to his new guitarist and makes the doll rest at his biceps, like a newborn baby. The crowd laughs at that, followed by a loud cheer, as they like the sight of their new guitarist and find it funny.

The sense of euphoria that comes with the last chorus is something Yangyang never knew he could feel. Lost in the music, enjoying the melody of a song he didn’t know a few weeks ago, he feels at home. He’s not good with crowds of people, for he always feels like he is watched and judged, examined by a microscope, but right now, he feels like he is in one unity with everyone present– music connects them all, no barriers left.

“Thank you so much everyone, this was Chucky Tribute! Make sure to stream our music on Spotify and Soundcloud, we’ll see you again soon!” Jeno says, moving to the edge of the podum and bowing, leaving the band to follow his lead and wave at everyone as the group leaves the stage.

Running off the stage, still grinning, Yangyang chugs some water in the backroom and once again, packs his guitar. If anyone would see him right now, they’d surely think he won a lottery or something, with how cheerful and genuinely happy the boy looks. 

“The best part of playing at bars is the thing that comes after,” Jeno laughs, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion.

“Now, we party,” Hendery concludes, shooting a serious look at the newbie. 

Once they’ve wiped their sweat off and drank some more water, the small group is heading towards the door to the bar. Now, Yangyang is not usually the one up for a party, but today is a special day. Of course he won’t miss out on the first afterparty with his new band. 

You find him at the entrance. Your smile mirrors his, and your eyes only leave him for a second, as Jeno passes by and you greet him with a strange sense of politeness. Once Yangyang is close enough to run towards, you envelope him in a bear hug, jumping around in excitement. He takes notice of your perfume– this is not the first time he’s smelled it, but the light aroma of roses and vanilla always manages to make him feel a strange sense of bliss. 

“You did so well! Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” you yell encouraging words into his ear, making him jump a little from the loudness of your voice.

“Thank you!” he says, jumping around with you and squeezing you harder for a mere second. Something about you being the first one to congratulate him on the first step towards his big goal makes his heart swell, the sight of the light behind your eyes making him feel a tad emotional.

“Now let’s go party! Renjun and Jaemin are waiting at the bar,” you say as you move from him, “Jun ordered you a beer, he insisted that you liked it. If that’s not the case, blame him, not me.”

Laughing as you two disappear deeper into the bar, you quickly find the two at the bar, accompanied with Hendery, Chenle, and who he remembered was Mark, even though he’s only met him once. “Where’s Jeno?”

“Most likely somewhere with his groupies,” Renjun shrugs, sliding the beer closer to his best friend. “You did well, by the way. You looked like a rockstar,” he says, a teasing tone sent his way with a grin on the older one’s face. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up-”

“I mean it! Now, have your beer so we can get some shots,” he says, making Yangyang roll his eyes and chug the beer, although not in one go– he’s not a monster. Or an alcoholic. Yet.

Once he’s done with his drink, the group moves to one of the booths in the corner of the bar. It was full just a moment ago, but the group that was sitting there before left, so they were free to take their spot. It was more comfortable to sit on the royal-blue sofas than the tall, lanky barstools, and Yangyang was happy for the support of the cushions under his bottom, if he was about to drink more. His centre of gravity is always a little messed up once he has something to drink, so a tall barstool wouldn’t really help him in this case.

Glancing at you, sitting right next to him, you don’t seem as unhappy with Jeno’s lack of presence. It makes him feel a bit relieved, especially after the talk you two had at McDonald’s a week ago. He knows that one can’t just get over someone in a week, but the idea of you still yearning after someone who was so out of reach was making Yangyang’s head hurt, so he was happy to see that you’re not running after him, or trying to look for him in the crowded bar.

You take your phone out of your pocket, yelling over the loud music as you read out the text shining on the screen of your phone. “Hyuck should arrive here any minute! He says he’s sorry for missing the gig, but he had to watch his baby sister, so there was nothing he could do.”

“It’s okay!” Chenle yells back, taking another sip of one of the cocktails you ordered for him when he was still in the back. He complained about it looking too girly for his current look, but he liked the taste nonetheless, so the argument was quickly settled.

“Yeah!” Yangyang chimes in, “family comes first. And babysitting,” he adds.

“Wait! Didn’t you use to babysit too?” Jaemin asks over the music, pointing his eyes at Yangyang.

“He did!” Renjun agrees with a laugh.

“But they kicked him out because the girl he was babysitting learned the word fuck from him,” you add, laughing as you remember the story he told you once when he was over at your flat.

“That’s not why they fired me-”

“It was! You told me!”

“It really wasn’t, you’re just-”

“Listen. We all know that’s why, every other word that comes out of your mouth is a swear word,” you say, grinning at him as he gets worked up over the small argument.

“I don’t fucking swear-” he tries to argue, when it hits him. He… he just did. Right there.

“Anyways!” Jaemin chimes in to lighten the mood, “I believe it’s time for shots!”

“I-”

“No, Hendery, you can’t skip this round and no, we don’t care that sambuca makes you sick. Now, let’s get to it, lads!” 

The shot glasses with the clear liquid are distributed amongst everyone in the circle, all of them taking the shot. Once the glass is pressed against Yangyang’s lips, he catches a telling look from Renjun on the opposite side of the table; a one that asks what is going on between you and the girl you were too shy to talk to when you first met her, but he ignores it and just lets the sambuca shot hit his throat, swallowing. No one is brave enough to not make that disgusted face after taking a shot, but at least no one gets made fun of. Just yet. 

With Yangyang’s low alcohol tolerance, he can sense that the teasing is only yet to come.

More and more shots in, he can feel his head spinning and all jokes shared along the group get only funnier. Somewhere along the way, Hyuck arrives, squishing himself next to Mark at the edge of the seat, greeting everyone and congratulating Yangyang on his first ever gig. When there’s a promise to drink to that with him, Yangyang is suddenly tugged by his hand, making him almost fall over as you try to make him stand up from his place.

“No, pretty boy, you’ve had enough for now,” you say, “let’s dance it out, shall we?”

“Probably not the best idea, Y/N,” Renjun notes from the other side of the table.

“We’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t understand, like, he will fall over. It will happen,” Renjun explains once more, the sureness in his voice not making you even bat an eye.

Yangyang doesn’t even try to advocate himself. There’s no use– Renjun is most likely right, and he will fall over. But he also doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation you’re having anyway, when your hand is still in his, fingers intertwined, and the nickname you used for him, although a little mockingly, is still ringing in his head.

Dragged across the dance floor, you two find your place in the corner, where there’s not that many people around. It’s getting late and the bar is only getting more crowded, leading towards the rush of the night, but Yangyang doesn’t find himself minding as you hug him loosely around his neck and swing with him to the music playing through the speakers.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking at him with honest concern.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Do you feel sick? Do you want water?” you ask him questions, all caring and making his heart swell. No one’s ever made sure he was okay when drinking before, so the sight of the frown on your face is making him feel content in your hold, as he dances with you– although not really catching the rhythm, since balance is the thing he’s trying to catch at this very moment. 

“I’m fine,” he says, smiling at you, “just a little drunk.”

“I can see that,” you laugh, “are you having a good time?”

He nods. “Are you?”

“I am,” you agree, smiling at him.

Yangyang finds himself pressed closer to you, but it really might just be because of the alcohol, when he talks closer to your ear. He doesn’t have to yell as much this way, and he finds it more comfortable, considering that he would still like to have his voice when he wakes up in the morning.

“Thanks,” he says.

“For what?”

“For… watching me play, I guess,” he shrugs, “and for staying here after.”

“I think you’re forgetting that all those other people are my friends as well, Yang,” you tease him, the tone of your voice making him shake his head in disbelief and roll his eyes at you.

“Okay, well, that’s true. But… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I do. I just don’t know how to articulate myself.”

You laugh at the simple honesty behind his drunken slurs, finding the tired boy endearing. “It’s okay,” you don’t push him.

“It’s just… if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here tonight, that’s all,” he says, finally, not knowing that he secretly articulated everything he wanted and more, making you smile at him. 

One of the hands that was previously clasped with your other one around his neck moves up towards his face, brushing the hair that’s falling into his eyes out of his face. The boy watches you with big eyes, mouth a little agape in shock. This action feels intimate to him, only treasured between you two, tugged secretly in the corner of the club. He feels weak in his knees, and although he manages to hold himself up, he knows that it’s no longer the effect that alcohol has on him, but yours.

“Don’t thank me. You were made for this,” you say, “you shined out there, you know? Give it a few more gigs and you’ll have even more groupies than Jeno,” you giggle, pressing your forehead against his for a brief second, just to be close to him, allowing yourself to be sincere even in the loud atmosphere of the night.

Swallowing hard, Yangyang chuckles airly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You should probably stop looking at me like that.”

“What? Why?” you ask, confused.

“Because it’s making it really hard for me to act like I don’t like you,” he confesses, watching your expression shift– the wrinkle between your eyebrows appearing for a second before your palm moves away from his hair and briefly touches his cheek and you move away from him, shaking your head.

“You’re drunk, Yang.”

He is. But even being sober can’t make his feelings for you go away.

“Yeah. I am.”

KISS ME LIKE NOBODY WOULD WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN

When you and Yangyang meet, it’s usually either at your place, in your little room covered by posters and artwork, or in town with all your other friends; going to the skate park, or having boba at the local mall. You rarely have time for just each other alone, and the only times when Yangyang has you all for himself is in your quiet room, where you learn to play the guitar, and he stares at you with fondness when he casually plays you love songs just for the sake of playing something, not wanting you to see the intentions behind his song choices.

Today, though, you’re nestled at Yangyang’s place– at his little balcony, to be exact. His parents were going out to the theatre, they said, so you only met them briefly, but Yangyang is glad for that fact, because he’s almost certain they’d embarrass him in front of you with childhood stories or prying questions, assuming you two were together, and he’s not entirely ready to face that yet. 

Alone in the whole house, you tucked yourselves into the small space of the balcony, sat at the floor with pillows under your bottoms, looking out to the hills. Yangyang used to complain to his parents about the placement of the balcony– when he was little, he didn’t understand why someone would want to look outside and see nature, only metres and metres covered in tall trees, when they could look out and see the busy street, people living their lives, laughing and screaming in joy. The older he gets, though, the more he understands why this is so much better; the sight of nature calms him down, creating the balcony into a humble abode, a relaxing spot for him to watch the trees move with the wind. If he’s lucky, sometimes, he can even spot a stray deer, looking out of the forest, tasting the city on its tongue. He subliminaly tells it to come back where it came from, for it’s safer for the animal to be kept in the woods, but he feels like the sight of it makes him appreciate what he has even more.

It’s early November, the leaves of the trees in front of you are starting to turn all the pretty colours of the rainbow, orange hues making the place look ethereally beautiful. You sit next to him, legs crossed, your outfit the most casual he’s ever seen you wear. The sight of sweatpants and the loose hoodie on your frame makes him unconditionally happy, for it means that you’re comfortable with him to the point of not even needing to dress up. 

“Why is your guitar so different to mine?” you ask him, furrowing your brows in question.

“Mine’s an acoustic, yours is the classical one. The strings are different,” he notes, seeing you nod in understatement.

Your guitar lessons are not as frequent as they used to be– truth be told, you only paid for an actual lesson a few times. The other times, when you two just laid in your bed and talked about everything, only sometimes taking your guitar into your hands and playing a song or two, Yangyang refused to take any money from you. It would be like paying him for hanging out with you, and that’s not the case here. Sure, he helps you with playing, he shares advice, but it’s not the regular guitar class he gives to the kids in the neighbourhood, and that’s why he’d feel bad to make you pay for them. 

“They hurt my fingers,” you scowl, making Yangyang giggle at your hurt expression.

“They’re harder to play, ‘cause they’re steel,” he says, “want me to play instead?” 

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I wanna show you something.”

Opening his eyes wide in surprise, Yangyang only nods, becoming you to start. When you came over into your room, you didn’t say much. Your eyes travelled around the walls, adoring the few posters he hung up above his bed, squinting at the collection of energy drink cans at the top of his wardrobe. There’s a bowl full of guitar picks on his table, which you scanned over faintly, and a hoodie, the only thing he forgot to clean up before you arrived, draped over his chair. When your eyes found one of his guitars– the acoustic one– in the corner of his room, you asked to borrow it, taking him by surprise.

Strumming the guitar a few times, testing it, trying to get to the rhythm and the sound of the new thing, you clear your throat and look at him again one last time before you start. “I practised some more, since your guitar lessons are pretty much useless now, when you won’t shut up for one minute-”

“That’s entirely your fault!”

“Whatever,” you mumble, “but, basically, I think I finally learned that song.”

Smiling faintly, perhaps a little nervously, you start playing the song you requested him to teach you in your first guitar lesson. The chords fall smoothly from your hand now, the strumming rhythmical and exactly like the original, everything falling into its place nicely.

You even start singing, and although your voice is not the prettiest one when you sing, the notes sounding flat and the high-notes a little shaky, although your voice isn’t like from the movies and you’re not a princess that’s good at everything, something about this moment feels truly special to Yangyang. When you notice the seriousness of the whole thing, his examining eyes and the lost expression, your singing turns more silly, purposefully not hitting the right notes towards the end of the song, dragging the lines for longer than you should, making Yangyang laugh.

He thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of the song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, looking at you in real time.

“How was it?” you ask, a hopeful glint in your tone.

“Wonderful,” he replies, and he means it– it’s an easy song to learn, sure, but he knows how much you’ve tried, how much work you truly put in. To work on something so hard and finally get to the goal, must feel fulfilling. He’s proud of you, in a way.

The grin that appears on your face is wider than he’d ever seen, as you put the guitar down next to you and try to battle it, as if you were afraid to show him just how much this moment meant to you.

“Thank you.”

“For what? This was all you, as you said, because I can’t shut up for one minute in our guitar lessons, so…”

“Fuck off, you know I was only joking,” you say, “we both know that I wouldn’t have done this without you. It’s a small victory, but it’s still important to me nonetheless.”

Your body shifts closer to him, a hesitant look on your face flashing for a second before you wipe it off and hug your companion from the side, both of your hands enveloping around his torso. Warmness spreads all through Yangyang’s body, making him wonder that perhaps, it’s the appreciation you are trying to convey, sending it to him through your touch. Your head rests on his shoulder, staying in your position for a few more minutes, just listening to the silence that’s only occasionally ruined by the chirping of birds or the shuffling of the wind in the trees.

Yangyang doesn’t dare to break the silence. He only lets you do as you please, when you pry your hands off him and move so you’re more comfortable, with your head still resting on his shoulder. It’s a simple act, but it means a lot to him– a subtle hint of affection, perhaps, which he treasures close to his heart.

Your hand silently finds his, resting in his lap. Taking it into your hold and playing with his fingers, Yangyang finds it hard to not think about just how much he’d like to kiss you right now. The smell of your shampoo mixed with the hint of your perfume hits his nose, lullying him to sleep. 

A little naive, perhaps, he thinks of the paradox– you started playing the guitar for someone you were chasing after, and proceeded with it for someone that was chasing after you. 

Or maybe, it was all because of yourself. You just needed someone that would support your little dreams. And with the dreams treasured somewhere deep in Yangyang’s insides, some that no one else but you knows, perhaps you two are a great duo. Nobody else would hold you up just as much as he does.

SO SPIN THE BOTTLE IN YOUR BRAIN AND MATCH THE WEAKNESS WITH A NAME

“If I knew that you’d just be doing your homework, I wouldn’t have come,” Yangyang mumbles as he lays on your bed, looking at his phone. His screen shifts with Tiktoks– the social media is almost embarrassingly too addictive for him not to check up on it once in a while, and now, when he has nothing better to do, he naturally gravitates towards it. 

Also, just for the record, that’s a lie. And he knows it– he just won’t admit it. Of course he would come anyway. Even if you told him that today’s activity is staring at the ceiling for three hours straight, he’d come. He’d come for any event you invite him to, because it means that he can spend time with you, stay in your presence. And that’s enough for him.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I already pushed this assignment back too much, because you wanted to go get boba the other day.”

“So it’s my fault you’re late on assignments?” he gasps, offended, as he puts his phone down to put his whole attention towards you. 

“Yeah,” you nod, a little absently, “of course it is. You were distracting me from my studies.”

Scoffing, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. Truth be told, he’s happy to be your distraction. That means you gravitate towards him whenever you need to get your mind off things– that means he’s your safe space, in a way. The realisation warms his heart a little as he proceeds to climb off your bed, joining you on the floor.

You’re sprawled out on your white fluffy carpet, with a plastic white tablecloth thrown over the surface, a canvas plopped in the middle of it all, tubs of acrylic paint carelessly situated all over the floor. As an art major, your homework is different to the usual. You don’t write lengthy essays, although the time for them comes every once in a while when you take your Art History class. Your assignments mostly include doing art itself, not only studying it, but experiencing the beauty of creating on your own skin.

“What are you painting?” he asks, eyes scanning the canvas. 

It’s not a big one, it’s just the right size to fit on the plastic covering under it, making sure your pure white carpet doesn’t get paint stains on it. He notices the brushes all over the place– one is even thrown under the bed, making Yangyang chuckle as he remembers your sudden outburst of frustration a few minutes ago, huffing through the silence and throwing something to the other side of the room. 

“Don’t look. I hate when people look.”

“Why?” he asks, confused.

“It makes me feel watched. I don’t like it,” you mourn, stopping in your process and finding his eyes for a split second, truth mirroring in them.

“I’m not watching you,” he mutters, “I’m just looking. I’m appreciating the art, if you will.”

“You’re gonna judge it. I hate when people judge my art,” you say as you get back to painting, mixing the shades on your pallet and then moving back to the canvas, plopping them on there, creating all sorts of images in the small space, “it makes me wanna cry when they say it’s bad.”

“Isn’t that like… the whole point of art school?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you nod, making the boy hum in understatement. “Makes me feel fucking miserable, to be honest.”

Yangyang chuckles. The room falls into silence again, as you let him watch you paint. He feels special, for you said you don’t let people watch you, but even with his eyes plastered on the whole scene– your art, but mostly you, scanning your focused face– you don’t glare at him, you don’t curse him off, you just let him peacefully sit next to you, appreciating you.

After a while, you start to hum a song, seemingly happy with your progress on the painting. Your eyebrows relax and your face doesn’t look as tense, and when Yangyang takes a look at your painting, it seems like you’re almost finished; not a blank space left on the canvas, your hand taking the smallest, tiniest brushes, adding small details to the whole thing.

“What did you paint?” he asks again, making you chuckle.

“Don’t you have eyes?” you ask, making him roll his eyes at your question.

“I do,” he replies, “but I wanna know what it symbolises, you know. Like.. What was the theme you were supposed to paint and shit, that’s what I’m interested in.”

Your eyes meet his for a brief second, smiling. Perhaps no one’s ever asked you about your art in such depth before. “It’s a William Oliver replica. It’s a scene from Much Ado about Nothing,” you say, finally done with your piece, stretching back to straighten your neck.

The painting is a beautiful scenery, Yangyang would even go as far as saying it looks like the original, although he’s never seen it before. It’s a picture of two women sitting on a bench in the woods, one of them looking past her shoulder at a couple walking by, her expression distraught. He wonders why you chose the piece, but before he has time to ask, you’re already giving him the reply.

“We were supposed to replicate a painting that resembles one of our deepest emotions and… I chose this one,” you add, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Taking one last look at the saddened woman, her expression dark and solemn with the sight of the couple passing by, Yangyang suddenly understands it all, he no longer has the need to ask you what the deepest emotion you have is, because it’s clear as day, right there in front of him, served on a golden plate.

And you might try to mask it, try to hide it from him as hard as you can; perhaps that’s why you haven’t told him the original name of the painting, after all, but he can see it in your eyes, he can sense it in the way you speak about him when he comes to your mind. 

Perhaps Yangyang understands your art so well because he deeply resonates. He too feels the way you do, he too looks at a pair passing by, the sight of them together making his heart clench with the feeling you can only describe as Unrequited Love.

I CAN STILL SMELL HER PERFUME, DID IT RUB OFF ON YOU?

“And…” Jeno’s singing suddenly trails off, his eyes shooting towards the ceiling as he searches for the next lyrics in his head, sighing when they don’t come to him as naturally as they always do. The band practice isn’t going well today, and frankly speaking, it’s getting on everyone’s nerves.

Hendery slams the drums with much furiosity, cutting the rhythm off abruptly. Yangyang finds himself following him, his strumming coming to a halt as an angry figure appears from behind him, screaming close to his ear.

“What the fuck, man?” Chenle yells at the leader of the band, sighing. “We have a gig in three days and you can’t even focus on a single band practice?” 

Jeno shrugs, pacing around. The frustration smeared all over his face is enough to make the whole group even more annoyed, the tense atmosphere making the air in the old garage feel particularly heavy. 

“You come to the practice late,” Chenle starts his little rant again, counting all the reasons why he’s annoyed with his bandmate on his fingers, “and mind you, the practice is at your fucking place. You live here and you’re half an hour late. Then, you’re all over the place; not paying attention to anything we have to say, forgetting the lyrics, playing the chords wrong in the few little songs where you actually have to play the guitar-”

“Are you done?” Jeno cuts him off, the tone of his voice stern and cold.

“I mean, I could go on, but it seems like you don’t really wanna hear it,” Chenle says, pacing towards the sofa and taking a seat on it.

“Glad you caught that,” he scoffs, not meeting anyone’s eye. 

Yangyang doesn’t say a word; he’s not the one for verbal or physical fights. Sure, he does have some pent-up anger inside of him, most of it aimed towards Jeno, but he won’t dare to show it. It’s not his place to say anything. He hasn’t been in the band for long, and for all he knows, the frustration he feels towards the boy may as well be because of the unreciprocated feelings you have for him. And now, that wouldn’t really be fair of Yangyang to act on, would it?

So instead, he wanders over to the corner of the room, figuring that it’s time for a break, sitting on one of the old, dusty armchairs. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Hendery asks, making the other boy frown.

“I don’t know, man,” he shrugs, indifferent, “I’ve got a headache.”

“Hangover again?” Chenle asks, the tone of his voice ironical and snappy, snickering to himself when the boy doesn’t reply and instead just looks ahead of him, too shameful to answer the simple question. “Of course. I could’ve guessed that.”

“Look, it’s not my fault that you don’t take the opportunities you’re getting into your hands,” Jeno shrugs, grinning to himself. Leaning over to the small coffee table in the middle of the garage, he takes the can of Redbull into his hands and takes a sip from it.

“What opportunities, you say?” Hendery asks.

“Well,” he starts, “the parties, the invitations, the attention…” he trails off, before a snarky look falls to place onto his face, “the girls…”

Chenle scoffs in response, putting his legs up onto the table. “Maybe if you gave more attention to responsibilities, the music and the band, we wouldn’t be still stuck in this fucking garage,” he shrugs and Hendery only hesitantly locks his eyes with him, nodding to show him that he agrees with his point.

“Well, it’s still my fucking garage, isn’t it?” Jeno grins, meeting the others’ eyes. 

After another set of sighs, nothing being able to loosen up the atmosphere and make the air lighter, Hendery moves from his spot on the sofa and takes the bag from the floor. “You should probably get some sleep. We’ll practise tomorrow, since you’re pretty much useless today.”

Chenle follows his actions, feet pacing around the garage to gather his things and hide his treasured bass guitar into the case, taking it with him. “See you tomorrow,” he says, turning around to wave at Yangyang, still sitting soundly in the corner of the garage.

With only the two of them left in the dusty practice room, Yangyang feels himself get awkward. The truth is, it’s easier to get on with Hendery and Chenle. He finds them to be more approachable, less intimidating and also more friendly. Yangyang doesn’t recall ever hearing Jeno speak to him with the niceness they always use, and he also doesn’t remember the prideful boy to ever look at him with eyes that would show that he finds him equal. Something about their relationship is always based on a feeling of superiority and however hard Yangyang tries, there’s nothing he can do to make the feeling go away.

Figuring that it’s his time to leave, he stands up and moves towards the sofa, where his bag is. 

“I hope you’re in better shape tomorrow,” he mutters, getting closer to where Jeno’s sitting.

“What, you’re gonna give me another lecture? I’ve heard enough, trust me,” he snaps back, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion and shock, sighing to himself. Leaning closer towards his bag on the sofa, something lingers in the air, and it’s not the awkwardness or the unsaid rivalry between the two.

It’s the smell of roses and vanilla, the faint aroma of it hitting his nose and making his stomach twist in anger. Suddenly, everything clicks into place– the hangover, him being late and all over the place, the smell of your perfume lingering on him wherever he goes.

“Were you with Y/N?” he asks.

“What?” he furrows his brows, pointing them onto the other boy as he scoffs. “You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?” 

“Yeah. Because I can get her whenever I want, and you can’t?” he says, cocky and full of confidence. “Don’t worry, I caught the way you feel about her long ago. Too bad she’ll never be yours, man.”

Gathering his things, hands trembling and his whole body lighting on fire, he finds himself walking off towards the exit. Turning around only once, he finally gets out what he’s been thinking of for the past few weeks. 

“You know what? Fuck you, Jeno. You can look for a new guitarist for your next gig now. I hope you find someone that doesn’t find you absolutely fucking insufferable.”

You might be completely his, magically under the rockstar’s spell, but the truth is, sadly, that Lee Jeno can never be truly yours. You’re always gonna have to share him with every single girl at the club, with all his crazy fans that post about him on Facebook. You’re always just gonna be his second choice, the girl he turns to when no one else is around, the girl he uses for his pleasure when there’s no other person willing to get on with him.

And that makes Yangyang perhaps even more furious than if you were dating. 

This might be his deepest dream, the thing he’s felt the most happy and excited about in a long while, but still, he can’t find it in him to continue in a band with someone that only finds you when they feel like it, stripping you off of everything, using you to their best and then throwing you out like a piece of trash, not satisfied with you anymore.

He could never go on with someone like that.

IT’S 3:45, THE TAXI’S NOT ARRIVED, I DON’T THINK THAT HE’S COMING

The rain hitting the asphalt does nothing to make Yangyang feel better about everything– truthfully, it makes him feel even worse, as expected with the gloomy weather, as he walks down the street towards the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, the one that is the furthest away from his house, away in the crevices of the roads that he doesn’t know that well, despite living there his whole life.

It’s a little past eleven and he’s gotten your text just about ten minutes ago. The contents of it were simple, just a single sentence asking him to meet you at the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, far away even from your house alone. 

You two haven’t spoken in a little over three days. After quitting the band, he’s pretty much sheltered himself from everyone. Even Renjun’s calls were getting ignored, and while the rest of the group just figured to leave the poor boy alone, his best friend made it his quest to walk down to his house and scream at him in person, for the little angry human was worried that his friend was six feet under a long time ago.

Nearing the little glass box, acting as a bus stop, Yangyang already sees your figure sitting at one of the benches, knees up and pressed towards your chest, hugging yourself. The sight of you makes Yangyang’s heart break just the slightest, for he already knows what’s going on just by reading your text message. It would be healthier for him to stay at home and leave you to deal with everything on your own, but he was never the one for good life choices. Somehow, he always has to fuck himself over. His own sweet self-sabotage.

Drenched in rain, droplets of water falling off the tip of his nose, he finally makes his way towards you and sits on the bench next to you. Sniffling a little, presumably from the cold, he waits for you to talk first. It’s hard for him to find words to say to you at this moment. No conflict happened between the two of you, but he’s sure you already know about what happened between him and Jeno, and he doesn’t have it in him to talk about it. He doesn’t know what you think about the whole thing; he also doesn’t know how Jeno explained it to everyone. All he knows is that the uncomfort he felt whenever he was around him is not something he should be putting up with, and that the decision he made was final, and also good for him, in the end.

“Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” you ask him, your voice faint in the silence of the night.

Shrugging, he snickers. “Dunno.”

The truth is, Yangyang doesn’t like umbrellas. Walking anywhere with them feels awkward and embarrassing, and he’d rather die than to feel humiliated. It’s a habit of his, to walk everywhere without an umbrella, even when it’s storming outside. The struggle of getting his wet clothes off before he hops into a hot shower is not really worth it, if he really thinks about it, but old habits are hard to break.

Taking the hood off his head, Yangyang runs his hands through his hair, shaking the water out. You lean away from him for just a second, trying to shield yourself from the droplets of water flying everywhere, but there’s no use– you end up getting a little wet anyway.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he finally breaks off the awkward silence. “There are no buses coming at this hour.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So… why are you here, then?” he asks. 

Shrugging, you sniffle from the cold as well, making Yangyang notice the lightness of your clothes. The fabric looks thin, the mesh long-sleeve doing nothing to shield you from the cold, and he suddenly regrets not bringing another jacket with him to keep you warm. 

“You already know why, Yangyang,” you mumble, “you already know.”

“What happened?” he asks. 

The truth is, Yangyang has a faint idea. He may have quit the band, but he hasn’t forgotten the schedule yet– today is the day of the gig. It’s a special one, presumably, because it’s away from the town. A big bar somewhere in a big city called Chucky Tribute to play on the opening night, so there must be a lot of people there, leading the band to getting more recognition than ever before. Everyone went– the whole friend group, including Renjun and Donghyuck, although the latter always seems to be late everywhere. Everyone went… except for you two.

“Jeno was supposed to drive me,” you say, “but he never showed up. I called him numerous times, sent him lots of texts, but he just wouldn’t reply.”

“Have you tried reaching the others?” he asks.

“I have. They arrived safely, had a great show…. Jeno didn’t mention me… you know, it’s funny,” you chuckle ironically, bitterness behind your tone, “Jaemin thought I just didn’t feel like coming today. They’re all there and now I look like a douchebag that doesn’t want to support their friends. It’s ridiculous.”

“That makes two of us,” Yangyang scoffs, trying to lighten the situation.

Humming, you only resolve to nod. “Then, Jeno texted me saying he’ll send a taxi for me and that I should wait here.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” you faintly reply, shuddering from the cold. “So I’m… waiting, I guess.”

Yangyang smiles to himself. Everything about you screams devastation– the way your eyes don’t meet his, the way you refuse to change your position into another one, hugging yourself to comfort. The makeup under your eyes is a little smeared, but he won’t mention it. You look devastatingly lonely, and something about you texting Yangyang just to battle the feeling makes him feel at least a little valued by you. It’s a sign of something– a sign of your trust, perhaps.

You’re waiting for Jeno’s taxi. It should make him seep in envy, but it doesn’t. Strange.

“You know, I finished my song the other day. I could show it to you sometime,” you say, starting a conversation, “it had a lot to fix and I wasn’t quite happy with it, but I think you’d like it. It’s… it means a lot to me.”

“Sure,” Yangyang nods, scooping himself closer to you. Seeing you shudder from the cold once again, he bites on his lower lip, hesitating on his next question, but saying it out-loud nonetheless. “I know this might sound a bit out of place and as if I’m being stingy by not offering it to you, but I’m really cold as well, so do you wanna share my jacket?” 

Looking at him for the first time since he got there, you shake your head in disbelief and break out into a grin. “You’re unbelievable,” you say, “but yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Moving closer, Yangyang takes off one of the sleeves on his jacket, pressing his side flush to yours, watching you as you take his jacket and drape it over your right side. Soon enough, taking the boy by surprise, your left arm moves under the jacket and hugs him around the waist, making yourself more comfortable in the awkward position. 

“Thank god for your ridiculously oversized clothing,” you mumble as you sigh in warmness, making him snicker.

Sitting in silence, the time passing without either of you knowing or noticing, the intimacy and closeness of you two occupying both of your minds, Yangyang wonders how he ended up in this mess. Living his teenage dream for a little over a month, playing one show, getting to know you and falling for you harder than he’s ever fallen for anyone before. He thinks he’d rather be unaware of his growing feelings for you. It’s not like they hurt him, it’s not like the idea of not being loved back by you makes his heart break or anything, but he feels like slowly, it’s ripping on his edges and making him feel a little worn-out. 

He wonders why your actions towards him haven’t changed since he drunkenly told you that he liked you. You showed no signs of discomfort with him, no awkwardness. It’s like somewhere in the depths of your soul, you were content with the idea of Liu Yangyang being in love with you. What that says about you, he doesn’t know, but it’s sure that it has to mean something.

Your head slowly falls onto his shoulder. The steady rhythm of the rain falling on top of the roof of the glassy bus stop acts like a lullaby, the darkness, only lightly discarded with the yellow hue of the lamppost a few metres away providing you a shield of some sort. The neighbourhood is almost scarily silent, but it’s no wonder due to the late hours of the day.

“I’m glad you came,” you mumble.

“Of course I came,” he replies. The choice of his words is quite obvious– there’s nothing else he could do, but to help you ease the pain of being thrown away to the side by Lee Jeno once again. After some time, it almost looks like he’s getting used to it.

“Sometimes, I wish I loved someone else. Sometimes, I wish that someone was…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence, but rather choosing to start a new one instead, “Jeno doesn’t deserve it. I’m done with him now. For good.”

Yangyang doesn’t reply, leaving your words to sink in. Noticing the familiarity of your sentences, the things you’ve already said to him multiple times ago, he only snickers in half-amusement, half-pain. “Are you?”

Thinking, you shrug. “Most likely.”

“I mean… it’s okay. You can’t really make your emotions go away like that,” Yangyang says. He knows what he’s talking about, after all– he tried.

“Yeah,” you agree, “but I think it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Remaining silent, Yangyang pays attention to the rhythm of the raindrops falling to the ground. Your body hangs off his, holding on to his clothing as if to keep yourself afloat. Somewhere along the way, his arm found its way around your waist, but he doesn’t really remember when it happened. All he registers is the faint movement of his fingers against your skin, trying to calm down the storm you refuse to show him, but he knows too well is going on inside of you at this very moment.

Eyes travelling towards the red neon sign outside of the bus stop, Yangyang finds that it’s 3:45am already and the time he spent with you passed by without him even noticing.

“It’s getting late,” he says.

“It’s been late for at least a few hours now, Yang,” you mumble, the nickname rolling off your tongue soundly.

“Yeah, but I mean… I don’t think the taxi’s coming,” he explains, a bit of hesitance in his voice, trying not to break your illusion.

“Oh, I know,” you muse, “I know. I knew it the very moment he sent the text that he’s gonna call it for me.”

Your statement confuses him, makes him furrow his brows and search for an answer. When you don’t explain further, he gets it, somehow, and the realisation both breaks him and makes him feel content all at once, as most things about you always do.

You already knew you could never trust a word that comes out of Lee Jeno’s mouth. And in times where you most need comfort, you call Yangyang. 

You always call Yangyang. 

“Let’s go home then, shall we? I’ll walk you.”

I’D LOVE TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU ENOUGH TO WRITE A LOVE SONG

Looking at you plucking the strings of your jet-black guitar, sitting in your room, Yangyang is enveloped with a strange sense of nostalgia that cuts right through his bones and sits inside of his stomach. You’re sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, not looking him in the eye as you strum an unfamiliar melody.

Nothing much changed since the two of you met for the first time. You’re still the same you that surprised him with a sharp remark as he entered your house for the first time, the same you that he silently adores and watches, paying attention to all details; the freckles on your skin, the calluses on your fingers, the hesitant smile you flash him as you start singing the lyrics to your song almost absent-mindedly. And he’s still the same person you met in the park; the boy with a dream, only waiting to be fulfilled, the boy that tries so hard to find his place in the world. The boy that quietly supports you with each step you take, the boy that fell for you fast and hard, without knowing how to control it.

Your room is still the same shade of white, splashed with colour on the edges, where the posters reach. The comfort and the easiness of the atmosphere is still the same as well. 

The truth is, everything stays the same. Time passed, but nothing happened. Ignoring the mess in the middle, it’s like you’ve come full circle, stayed exactly the same, stuck in motion, but progressing nowhere. Yangyang can’t choose if it’s scary or comforting. 

But when your eyes meet and you sing the lyric, your voice unsteady, but absolutely, 100% raw and honest, Yangyang thinks that perhaps something changes over time. His feelings for you don’t disappear, not at all, but they progressively grow. They deepen and he starts to understand them, getting in touch with them, welcoming them despite knowing they will never get received and reciprocated.

“I’d love to be in love with you enough to write a love song,” you sing, the easy chords forming a melody, the lyrics hitting the boy in the stomach. 

It’s like they’re addressed to him the same way they were addressed to yourself. A silent confession, opening yourself up to him completely, because after all this time, he’s the only one you can get yourself to fully trust and let see everything. The truth is, he deserves it. After being so patient; after being so calm and caring with you and your emotions. 

When you’re finished with the song, putting the guitar aside, Yangyang can’t help but grin at you.

“Us two could make a band, you know,” he smiles, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t think the rockstar life is for me, dude,” you say, moving closer to him, but still keeping your distance. That’s how it works between the two of you all the time, in a way; you always somehow get closer, but the pit between the two of you never really disappears. Maybe, it never will. But that’s okay. 

Yangyang is okay with that. 

He’s not angry about it anymore. The truth is, some situations can make him truly furious; seeping with jealousy, cursing at his fate for making him feel the things he does, asking himself all the what ifs and why me questions. But after taking a step back, Liu Yangyang can finally recognise what he found and what he learned, and appreciate the anger for being there, for it’s an emotion as well and he has to let himself feel it, and finally let it go.

Maybe, he’ll never have a band. Maybe, he’ll never be the same as Lee Jeno. Maybe, he’ll never have you.

But he’s not angry about it anymore.

Your body slowly shuffles next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. Something about the gesture makes him feel all warm inside, a slight smile creeping up his lips at the sight of you curled up to his side.

And once again, he thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of your song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, while looking at you in real time.

And that’s okay for him. Sometimes, even a glimpse of someone is enough.

When you cuddle up with him in the bed later that day, watching Netflix like the old times; when a kiss lands into his hair and makes him shy away from your touch, he wonders if he’ll ever live up to Lee Jeno and if he’ll ever get loved by you the same way you loved him before.

He’s not angry anymore. 

Well, sometimes, he is.