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be-my-ally · 5 months

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The Seatbelt Sign is On

A Big Bunny Vignette.

Bunny wants to get tied up, so uh, here we are. Playboy!Reader x 76/77 Elvis - this little plot-less smutty fic is set between The Lisa-Marie & Crash Landing. Although I think it could be read as a standalone. This is pretty much totally unedited, so apologies for any typos.

warnings: 18+ 18+ 18+. Light bondage. No safewords or anything but it is clearly pretty ssc**. Oral, and penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation.

75-77 elvis x playboybunny!reader (established relationship - here's the link for the rest of the series)

wc: 4.2k (miss concise smut is back baby!!)

** ((Spoiler: Elvis does say he has scissors in case she needs to be cut out - but he’s pretty much just holding her down with some ribbon and a seatbelt.))

Elvis often climbed up the stairs with his last burst of energy post-show - happy to collapse and settle in or onto the nearest chair, sometimes not even making it to his bed, taking in the precious hours of rest before the next stop. It meant that even though you were spending a serious number of hours with Elvis, it didn’t leave a whole lot of time that he was lucid or awake enough to actually spend it with you.

You’d worried it was you, to start with, but you’d heard the guys whispering about him lately. About his lack of interest in the girls he flew out to meet him, or the ones waiting back home for him. You’d watched Sam looking you up and down a little smugly in the middle of the conversation as if saying without a word that there was a lack of interest in you too. The rumours that he couldn’t get it up at the moment followed raucous retellings of salacious events from years before that you were sure were heavily embellished if they’d even happened at all. But, despite what they would gossip about, you never would describe Elvis as lacking in some way, and certainly not out loud. Sure, he didn’t always (or even often) have the energy to be intimate with you but when he did he was as considerate and, usually, as fun as ever.

Sometimes though you couldn’t help but feel like it was just…a bit bland. You still blush when you think about those first few flights on Big Bunny, meeting him in next to nothing for that rehearsal. Nothing has really come close in a long time. He certainly wasn’t behaving in the same way, and you felt a little like maybe you had become too comfortable together, or like a married couple or something. A distinct lack of excitement together.

The issue, you thought while brainstorming ways of keeping it interesting, was that despite how brash and forward Elvis could be, he ultimately became quite shy and almost too respectful towards you while you were alone. You knew enough about how his brain worked to know that part of the appeal of the opposite sex was, for him, the perceived softness and ability to at least perform an act of gentle innocence. He could be brazen and arrogant while ordering you to dance for him, to roll his latest dirty film acquisition, yet when he had you alone he’d be almost apologetic, gentle. You didn’t want him to be mean to you, but maybe a little less of the…desperation. If he could just take a little more control again.

It was at the end of a run of shows, Elvis tired but with it, when the answer came to you. He’d been carefully kissing the inside of your thighs, where you lay, still fully dressed on the bed of the Lisa-Marie when you’d moved your hands onto his head in an attempt to impatiently guide him. He’d tutted at you, immediately pulling away from your fingertips trying to bury themselves into his longer hair.

“No, no, no, keep your hands outta the way, baby, gotta let me work.” He returned, but a kiss to a sensitive crease sent your leg knocking into his shoulder. It’s been a while. You can feel his grin even as he pulls away again to look up his lashes at you.

“I told you you gotta stay still, I need my hands for this, can’t be holdin’ you down.” You’re not sure the noise that came out of your mouth could be heard by anything but dogs but he laughs, shaking his head, “What m’I gonna do with you?” You wiggle a little, and there’s a clunk of metal hitting the floor. You both turn to look, and your wide eyes meet his calculating ones.

“You can. You know, if you want.” He stares at the seatbelt now trailing on the floor for a moment longer before responding, turning bashful;

“Uh, well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna pin you - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable… I was really only jokin-“ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

“El- it’s ok, really, I think I’d like it.”

“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t - do girls, do ya, do ya, uh, really like that kinda thing?”

“Uh-huh, I think so, or well, maybe not every girl, but I like the sound of it, all tied up and ready for you, just having to take whatever you wanted to give me? Doesn’t that sound good to you too?” While you were talking you could see him looking at the belt, gently stroking your wrist as he considered the proposition, he swallows. You can tell he likes the idea.

“You’d… you just, you’d just let me know if you want out right?” You laugh at his nervous questioning;

“Lord Elvis, what’s running through that mind of yours to do to me that I’d want out?” He shrugs, glancing at the clock.

“Well, not today, baby, gotta be ready for the show in an hour, ‘m gonna, gonna freshen’ up.” And with a pat to your side, he headed to the bathroom, leaving you there.

You realised you might have made an error in judgement bringing it up just then, just when he’d started to get going now you were left with your panties twisted to one side, skirt hitched, alone on the bed with the plane seemingly whizzing past any prospect of an orgasm today.

——————————————————————

“We’re uh, going to Denver, you know, for the uh, burgers.” You pull the headset from your ear, as if blinking at it was staring at him and he would offer you more explanations.

“Oh, yeah… sure, ok.”

“Well, don’t ya wanna come too?” He sounds offended at your noncommittal response, but you don’t really. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite feel like you were rested from the tour yet and you knew it was only a matter of days before you’d be up all hours of the night and day and running ragged after him again. But, he made that dejected sort of hopeful hum that made you cringe at the mere thought of not agreeing to his plans.

“Of course I do - I’ll uh, I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” It’s silent on the other end, and then,

“We’re leavin’ now, so hurry.” Of course he was.

It didn’t occur to you until much later that he didn’t want to go to Denver at all, and definitely not for the burgers - you’d heard Joe ringing from the comfort of Elvis’ fancy car-phone to make sure someone, presumably a pretty Miss Colorado of some sort, was home. Assuring them down the line that Elvis couldn’t come to the phone right now, but if they made sure they were at the airport he’d be there in a few hours for a flying visit. Somehow, you were able to listen to this - your legs nudging his, and his nudging Joe’s, without the slightest jealousy - just a mild sympathy for this girl desperate for the crumbs he was willing to lay. It would be much later that you would realise Denver had nothing to do with this girl either, that it was all an excuse for you. You’d realised there was some kind of ulterior motive to a lesser extent though as soon as you were, quite frankly, shoved into the bedroom as soon as you had boarded.

“Elvis! I’ve got a job to do!” He shakes his head, grinning at you and standing in the way of the door,

“Nu-uh baby, I been thinking about what you said last time.” You didn’t expect that.

“Oh?”

“Yes ma’am, and you’re right.” You really didn’t expect that,

“Oh! Well I can’t say I’m surpr-” You yelp as he pinches your side,

“‘Nough of that, on the bed! I got ‘quipment.” You pause your stride towards the bed, looking at him grinning with his hands on his hips, it was all a bit sudden.

“Um, I didn’t, I mean, I’m not su-” He grins at you,

“I thought you were Miss Confident?” He gets that sly look on his face, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in their corners, “You know… I’ve been readin’ up and I don’t know if I oughta be worried, liking this kind of thing is listed in the DSM you know…” You gulp, your stomach twisting a little, feeling a flush rise up from your chest to your cheeks.

“Jesus El - I’m not the one with equipment! I just like a little…I’m an adult, and I know what I like and I think it’s unfair of you to say that kind of thing, especially when I know what you’ve been up to, and you know Hugh - Elvis stop laughing at me!”

“You’d have thought I was secretly sending you off to the nuthouse baby, the way you were carrying on then,” He manages to get the words out past his giggles, “ ‘s just a bit of ribbon, honey-bunny.” You both feel the rumble of the engine starting up, “C’mon we’re on a time limit.”

“Well, if you’re - if you’re sure…” You bite your lip in nerves.

“Where’d my conf’dent l’il bunny go huh? C’mon baby, ‘s no worries - you’ll like it .”

“Are you - you know what you’re doing?” His mouth gapes a little, wide-eyed.

“Of course!” He looks genuinely offended, for a second before grinning, “I got good at knots in the army don’t you worry.” He winks at you as he salutes, his feet knocking together and you giggle, your tension relieving itself.

“I’d be more reassured if you’d been in the navy.” He swats at you,

“ ‘M better than any of them boys playin’ out on their little boats I tell ya, now hush and let me work here.” Your breath catches again, “don’t worry darlin’ I saw this in a uh, blue movie, don’t ya worry, I know how you like it.”

That did little to calm your nerves - his reassurance that he knew what he was doing too often led to some kind of mild disaster. “Well, ok, but - you’ve got, you’re prepared, right? You got some scissors or, something, haven’t you? In case you hafta get me out quick?”

Elvis puts the bag back onto the bed, holding three fingers up - but his solemn face belies the comedy of the action; “I swear, swear to you, I’ll get you out if you want to be. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to my best bunny.” You look into his eyes pausing for a moment and nod, lying back on the bed. He situates himself between your legs, bending to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of your mouth,

“Aren’t you gonna…?” You shake your wrists at him and he huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over you,

“Gotta get you worked up first baby, ain’t no fun if you’re not ready to wriggle and jiggle around, is it? Now, hush,” He whispers against your skin, “let me work my magic.”

He might not have been focussing his energy through his ‘healing hands’ this time, but you couldn’t deny he did have the magic touch, he barely had to brush his fingers over you, press a thigh against your side, and you were gone from the world, levitating above the bed, above the plane, into the sky above. You’re embarrassingly quick to turn on, making out with Elvis enough to make you squirm. After a minute or so he presses kisses against your clavicle, open-mouthed while his fingers fumble with opening the buttons that stretch from your neck to your thighs, almost immediately shoving his hands around the waistband of your tights and he tugs hard enough that there’s the tell-tale ripping sound of the nylon falling apart - if you’d been more conscious of it you would have rolled your eyes, somehow you never seem to be able to keep a pair for long around Elvis. As it was you were far too distracted to care, relieved simply to be divested of the fabric and you lift your hips to let him roll them off - throwing the destroyed fabric to the corner of the room. His hand supports your back as you lean forward, pulling your arms out of your dress, immediately wrapping them around his neck once you were free.

He’s all-encompassing, someone else might find him smothering, the way his arms seem to be everywhere all at once, caging you against him. But you can’t get enough. Your underwear ends up somewhere, god knows where. You’re reminded again of that revelatory first time when he’s biting nibbling kisses across your chest, tiny pink bruises sucked onto your soft skin, Elvis’ hands pawing at you in that somehow hot clumsy way. He tweaks a nipple and your back arches to meet him, you don’t know when your eyes closed but you open them at the sudden loss of any sensation,

Elvis is sat back on his heels, assessing you, rubbing your thighs firmly. He nods with satisfaction at whatever he sees, reaching up the bed for the ribbon and tugging your wrists towards him. He kisses your pulse, and you wonder if he can feel how it jumps. He tuts when the ribbon twists, wrapping it around several times and looping it over and under before finishing it off with his best attempt at a bow. You make eye contact with each other, and you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he stops you with a pointed finger, his eyes alight.

“Don’t say a word.” You swallow your words, playfully snapping at his finger instead, and he laughs, holding your newly tied wrists above your head as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s somehow dirtier this time, whether because you just feel that way, or because he doesn’t take his time, biting your lip and pushing his tongue into you; forcefully mapping out your mouth. He works his way down, sucking a small, darker bruise on the underside of your left breast, you wonder if it was intentionally close to your heart. You tremble, wriggling against him and after a moment he evidently grows tired of pinning your wrists, his long arms not able to keep them pressed flat while he works down your body and he looks for a way to secure them better.

“Well, I guess we didn’t think this through, honey, it’s not the right kind of headboard, so I s’pose you’ll just hafta keep ‘em there.” He presses your newly tied wrists against the pillows, fingertips brushing the velvet of the headboard and your back arches with the effort of keeping them there. His breath tickles when he returns to his place, and the air over the sticky wetness of your inner thighs makes your arms involuntarily attempt to come back down to hold him in place. Elvis tuts at you, leaning back.

“’S no good. You’re wriggling around too much.” He stands up, his hands on his hips to assess your predicament. He sits back down and peers down the side of the bed. “C’mere.” He hauls your body up and you wriggle up with him until you were high enough up the bed that your back was now supported by one of the cream-golden reading cushions and he was able to pull the seatbelt across your stomach.“Keep your hands there.” He pats them at the top, and you grip the top of the headboard as best you can. “Where was I?”

You’ve lost all ability to speak, simply too turned on to comprehend what’s going on. There’s the barest hint of sweat beading above his eyebrow and glistening on his dark, longer, sideburns. Your hands twitch to cup his face and you whine in frustration, unable to reach where he kneels between your legs, your fingers clutching the dusty top of the headboard, desperate not to ruin the game. He grins, tongue running over his teeth, and you thump your head back against the hard cushion,

“Elvis, c’mon.”

“I’m havin’ fun now, baby,” He sing-songs it delicately and you shiver, “Gonna get you so worked up.” His thick hands grasp your thighs, fingertips digging in, “C’mon, bunny, open up for me.” You have no idea if the growl that comes from his mouth was intentional, or if it just had the unintended side effect of your legs immediately spreading, your breath hitching. He leans in and you feel yourself tense, hairs pricking with the tension of the moment, desperately anticipating his next move.

Elvis is clearly not unaffected by the sight of you - his breathing much harder than before and it tickles as he gently kisses your inner thigh, his pouty lips open. The very tip of his tongue ghosts across your skin, and you shudder at the sensation, aching for him.

“Elvis you’ve gotta - you’ve gotta touch me.”

“I am touching you.” His fingertips continue to dance, and you try to squirm a little, the seatbelt trapping you in place.

“Nooo. Properly.” He chuckles,

“Properly” He teases with a shake of his head and you whine again,

“Ssh, shhh, I’mma take real good care of you, bunny, just relax baby,” He firmly rubs at your thighs, as if he wasn’t the reason you were squirming. You let your head roll back again, suddenly distracted as he teases you by the sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the room, the dark mahogany of the wood-covered room and the dim light reflecting off of the creamy ceiling putting you into a soft-glow focus. You can barely see yourself beyond him, he takes up the majority of your view, and though the concept is hot to you, fully clothed as he was, it left little to look at - just your twitching tied wrists, above both of your bodies, really visible.

Finally he’s kissing across your bare skin and you’d forgotten somehow, impossibly, in the time since you’d last been together like this, just how good he was at this. You’re already so sensitive, you can feel the cooling dampness in the air, and yet it still comes as a surprise at his first kitten licks how responsive you were to him. He presses one hand against your thigh, fingers leaving bruises from his tight grip, holding you totally open to him. Elvis leans back a little, grinning at your attempts to grind on nothing, and you might be ashamed at such a wanton display in the morning but right now you just need the pressure back. He spreads your slick folds with his flattened tongue, moving his fingers in to keep you spread open so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on the little nub and sending you shuddering.

Your legs are the only part of you able to move, and you wrap them around his, now thicker, waist holding him against you until the movement of his talented tongue and fingers make them kick out. For some reason, even though he wasn’t doing anything new, being secured down like this was making everything feel ten times more - like someone had turned your sensitivity up on a dial. He tongue-fucks into you, and it’s so hard to keep your hands where they are, writhing around as you were, desperate to hold him in place - gain better purchase to grind against his clever, talented tongue.

The singular focus he dedicates to this task always reminds you of that first time and having him so committed only adds to your enjoyment. Elvis renews his efforts, suckling like he needs you for oxygen, and the warm wet pressure builds until finally, you’re shuddering over the edge of orgasm, legs spasming and your back arching as much as it was able to do so - and the tension of the seatbelt across your body - pinning you down far more than you would usually be held, has you electrified, adding to your startling passion. You pant, trembling as he leans back, it’s scandalous how he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick and you try to form words to tell him how earth-shattering that vision is, but you struggle from the sheer anticipation of watching him stand up.

“El- Honestl-El, how’d you, it’s so good. You need, I need you -“

You cut yourself off, panting, as Elvis finally, finally, slips out of his lounge pants and jacket. His tanned hairy chest unveiled itself, a perfect trail leading down to his hard cock, its pink head poking out, glossy with his precum. You shudder, and he grins at you wildly for a moment, before seemingly focussing on the task at hand, clambering back atop you. He mutters the same thing he always mutters as he presses himself into you,

“Y’re good, y’re a good girl, bunny, swear it - y’re so, fuck, so tight.” It probably shouldn’t make your chest glow so much. He presses a hand on your stomach, just below where the seatbelt pins you to the bed - holding you in place for him to get himself situated. The firm pressure is almost enough to tip you over the cliff again. You realise you’re babbling, muttering pleas when Elvis kisses your sweaty cheek, hushing you. He jerks his hips once, twice, in time with your gasps before he growls, evidently incapable of getting the angle right and you suddenly feel yourself being tugged down the bed, hands leaving the headboard and seatbelt scraping your skin until you were lying mainly flat, mostly immobile.

“That’s it, that’s - that’s better - that good for you Bunny?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, laughing to himself, “ ‘course it is. You’re like one of them kids toys, what’re they called, those, those, slip n’, slip n’ slides. So fucking wet down here.” You nod frantically in agreement, stuttering out that you were fine, it was all good - but please, Elvis, please, just move.

It’s a strange sensation, being unable to use yourself to get leverage, and it feels almost objectifying. Lying there just to be used, but you liked it, and Elvis took advantage, pulling and tugging to exactly the pace and angle he needed to chase his own pleasure. You plant your feet, when you manage to get purchase, able to use your thighs to your advantage a little. You can feel the edge rising, but before you get there Elvis stills, his mouth agape, sweat beading at his forehead and eyebrow, upper lip aglow with it, and you feel him pulsing. His hand comes down to stroke between your folds, as he slowly pulls out, and you shake your head - it was almost too much, but he hushes you,

“Shh. Wanna see you go again, it’s only fair - ’n’t that the reason I got you all tied up like this.” You tremble, and he presses his thumb against you, it’s filthy, the viscous mix of your fluids. Elvis deftly rubs your clit, and your body shakes through the waves of orgasm until you squirm away from his fingers, completely overstimulated,

“El- El, that’s that’s enough, I can’t - fuck, that’s too much - too much,” He laughs at you, stroking you a final time as your legs twitch. You lie there panting for a long while, and Elvis gets up before you do, cutting the ribbon off of you, not bothering to deal with the knots that had tightened as you struggled, and heading to grab a drink from the little dressing table alcove at the end of the room while you caught your breath.

The ribbon had done pretty well at keeping your hands together, he’d done them up tight enough that they’d laid fairly flat and untwisted, but still, when you rubbed your wrists there was a light mark and the hint of soreness, especially around the outside edge of your forearm. You unbuckle yourself, sitting upright slowly.

Clearly, there’s a reason people don’t usually use seatbelts like this. The rough edge of the nylon had rubbed you where you’d wriggled around, the lines criss-crossing, while the heavy weight of the gold buckle had left indents - several of which you were sure were going to bruise. You didn’t mind that so much, pressing a finger into the darkest of the marks.

“Good Lord Elvis, I look like I’ve been whipped or something!” He glances back at you in the mirror where you’re now fully upright, brushing your fingers over the pink marks. He points a finger at your reflection,

“No chance in goddamn hell. Nope. There’s not enough space - don’t you go gettin’ any ideas now, li’l girl. Absolutely fuckin’ no.”

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#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #be-my-ally #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #elvis fanfiction #big bunny #big bunny vibes #elvis x playboy reader #elvis x you

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m1ssunderstanding · 9 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Two

Paul and Ringo cabaret duo au NOW!

Their collective bitter humor about the fan mag. I think George probably appreciates Paul getting into this sort of shit with him. Even if it is only on a surface-level. A reminder that the Beatles fame journey (something that's been hellish at times for George, enough to give him PTSD and other issues for the rest of his life) has not left Paul unscathed. That Paul actually does have feelings, however buried they may be.

Could even be that the appreciation comes out in the form of "I think your beard suits you. Man." Does the tacked-on 'man' mean a sort of "no homo" type qualifier? Or is it just an added endearment. I know we don't think of George as particularly inhibited, but it was the sixties. And of course Paul loves the compliment and has no idea what to do with it.

Can you all please thank Mal as he hands you your tea next time? Not that hard, guys.

Ringo's voice is so sexy. And I love how supportive Paul and George are of this very stupid song. If either of them had written it, they'd tear it to shreds, but it's Ringo, so we laugh along and enthuse about the sentiments behind the lyrics.

The communal bitching about EMI's treatment of them. As they should.

Oh goodness, it's the "Paul has an embarrassing crush" moment from that iconic post of @jeremy-hillary-boob He totally does and you should say it. "I never used to know what it meant". It's giving "girl pretends not to know how to hold her golf club so the hot guy will touch her".

I have a theory that some of their covers ~matter~ and "What do you want to make those eyes at me for?" Is the first one for me.

Okay this look right here that John is giving Paul? Not to, like, out myself as never having experienced pure love except from my own child or anything, but the only other place I've ever seen that look is on my one-year-old's face when I come get him from his nap. So ... "A lovely little baby, John was"

"If this boy dies, you're gonna cop it." Peak older brother behavior. He's joking, but he's also deadly serious.

In love with John trying to sing out of his range. He's trying so hard, you guys.

"Everybody had a hard year. 'well, I'm not sure, actually. Put [good year]." Same, John. Isn't it always that way? Hard. And good. He's such a genius lyricist. He just captures the human condition with such specificity.

Lol at Paul correcting John on the key of his own song (yeah, yeah, gimme some truth is secretly a colab but it's still a John song)

When they put a piano in front of Paul and John's instantly like "uh-oh, red-alert my beautiful boyfriend might not get captured perfectly from every angle" vs a year and a half later when he's bitching about Paul having too much screen-time in Let it Be. Well, you were part of the problem, babe.

I love George's way of teaching his songs. Whereas Paul was shouting key changes and counts between phrases, and John doesn't even bother to give any of that information, George is just softly singing "E, to F sharp minor. E to A." Beautiful. John and Paul, take notes.

Wonder if I'll get through a day without calling Paul a whore. Probably not.

John being instantly self-effacing after suggesting that genius little let's enhancement. "My mind can blow those clouds away" is actually much more original and thought-provoking, but John just makes fun of himself. Like. Just own it. You're John fucking Lennon!

The George/Paul convo (George talking, Paul hardly flinching) is so painful actually. Because from the outside, Paul's avoidance looks so condescending and unfeeling, but avoidance feels much more like 'Shit fuck shit dodge the fight, go around, don't react, don't engage, don't start something' and i really feel for both of them.

Let John do Help for gosh sakes!

"Not bad though. Good try, that. Johnny."

The part where Paul is looking just so exhausted, and he's actually letting it show, and then he sees the camera on him and hurries and tries to do a cheeky little Beatles head-shake and smile. But then he's really just too tired (and high) and he looks away and rubs his eyes. It was like watching an old circus bear. Those poor things.

And of course John's head snapping up like a little gopher when Paul says his name

#get back #the beatles #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george harrison #john lennon #mclennon #mal evans #Yes I will continue to just take pictures of my screen like an eighty year old woman #Yes I am sorry about the length. They're probably just going to be like that...

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all-at-once-you-are-the-one · 5 months

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Idk if this is a hot take or not, but IMO loml is one of the most straightforward songs on the album and it actually tells a story in chronological order. Let’s examine:

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing

Back into rekindled flames?

If we know the steps anyway

We embroidered the memories

Of the time I was away

Stitching, "We were just kids, babe"

Yes, I know this very much sounds like it’s about a certain someone but I actually think here she is referring to the breaks between her and Joe that she’s previously alluded to in Hits Different & That’s When TV. She also often describes this relationship as making her feel like a kid in other songs like CIWYW, INTHAF etc.

I said, "I don't mind, it takes time"

I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed

This was the line that really sparked my curiosity. What does she not mind? It seems like she’s changing her mind on something and resigning herself to being stable and settled rather than leaving to find something better. This is the period when we got songs like Lavender Haze. He said he needed more time before marriage and she was like you know what yeah, why do women have to get married anyway?? Can’t we just be together?? Both of them were denying that it was what she truly wanted and he just didn’t.

You and I go from one kiss to gettin married

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery

Never quite buried

In your suit and tie, in the nick of time

You lowdown boy, you stand up guy

Holy Ghost, you told me I'm

The love of your life

You said I'm the love of your life

About a million times

She’s waiting and waiting and waiting for the marriage thing to happen and he just keeps placating her by saying she’s the love of his life. (I can totally just picture him saying “but you’re the love of my life and we’re happy, isn’t that enough?”). She has faith in him because he’s such a good guy with integrity, surely he wouldn’t just lie to her and lead her on. Surely he’ll show up in the nick of time to marry her like he said he would.

Who's gonna tell me the truth

When you blew in with the winds of fate

And told me I reformed you

Here’s what’s his name making his grand entrance!

And all at once, the ink bleeds

He promised her all the same things and then took it away so quickly which released the stopper on all her pent up feelings about being let down in this way. The rest of this verse is pretty clear cut

You talked me under the table

Talking rings and talking cradles

I wish I could un-recall

How we almost had it all

Now it’s about them both! She’s going into detail about the way in which they let her down

Dancing phantoms on the terrace

Are they second-hand embarrassed

That I can't get out of bed?

Cause something counterfeit's dead

It was legendary

It was momentary

It was unnecessary

Should've let it stay buried

This is the saddest part!!! This is also about both of them! What’s his name is obvious, but it’s also about her and Joe. She knew they had issues! She knew he didn’t want what she wanted! That’s why they had their break! Now she feels that when they resumed their relationship it wasn’t real, he just started lying to her and she was also lying to herself, and they should have just broken up for good the first time.

Oh, what a valiant roar

What a bland goodbye

The coward claimed he was a lion

I'm combing through the braids of lies

Again, what’s his name is very obvious here. She’s also upset about her breakup with Joe: she broke up with him remotely! And maybe he just let her! She thought he was brave, that he had integrity, but he lied to her over and over and over again, every time he promised they would have the things she wanted for her future. He was just delaying the inevitable and wasting her time.

If you can get past the Matty of it all and accept the story she’s telling here at face value there is SO MUCH she’s sharing with us here.

#loml #ttpd #ttpd analysis

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arainmorn-art · 2 years

Text

A path of self-destruction

So I’ve seen that 14th March is Write Your Story day. Sounds neat, though I have no ideas for fiction to write about right now. But I have a personal story. I wanted to write about it for quite some time, because for some weird reason I feel more comfortable writing about some psychological stuff in English. It seems easier - and safer. Here might be no people that know me personally. And with a small audience it also feels... like I am in a small circle of silent respectful strangers, telling my story without a chilling fear of being interrupted or shunned. Or being avoided.

People don’t like sad body horror stories.

It’s an act of self-preservation for sure, our mind tries to protect us from horrible things, as it tries to be a protective parent guarding its kid. I understand it. It’s not like I tell the whole story to everyone, firstly it would take a long time, secondly - I don’t like making people upset. If people around me, who like me, are getting upset only by mentioning a miniscule part of stuff, why should I force them to listen the rest?

But sometimes... I need to tell it.

Heh. And how should I begin?

“There once was a girl with a loving family. She had both parents, a mother and a father. But strangely the girl was growing up strongly relating to fatherless kids her age. She was growing up waiting for her father’s death”

An intriguing kind of start, I hope.

The thing is it’s quite hard for me to tell you about only this part of my forming years, because right after high school there were also several traumatic circumstances I lived with, and stories about my dad and the coup, and the civil war, and severe trust issues, and loosing a feel of basic safety, and a crushing feeling of being a hated outsider in my own country are heavily intertwined. But... I doubt my writing abilities to tell you everything in one post. Maybe next time. I’ll mention those situations briefly, just keep in mind that... well, it was all happening at the same time.

So.

“She was a shy girl, whimsy and timid, a kind that usually becomes some sort of an artist. Five years might be not the best age to learn about death, but this realization came to her quite early. We all gonna die, she realizied, and nothing will stop it. She cried and ran to the kitchen to her mom, looking for comfort, but mom couldn’t say anything to console her. “It happens in many years!”, she tried to tell her crying daughter. She wasn’t expecting this conversation so soon”

I don’t know how others get this awarness of their own mortality. I simply haven’t asked, actually. I got mine after watching Conan the Barbarian and The Fifth Element movies. Oh, and add Princess Mononoke to this soup. And many 80s and 90s scince fiction and action movies, that were by far not kid-friendly! Yeah... my mom admits she and my dad were stupid to show me these movies before elementary school, but now I can tell young gen-Ziers that in my time we were much tougher kids!.. Well, come on, don’t give away all the credits to Don Bluth, a Grand Child Traumatizer, an old Total Recall was a blast! :D

My mom also thinks that there were too many familiar people who died through my forming years, both relatives and friends. I don’t know, maybe she is right. My grandpa was buried at the day of my 14th birthday, a year before two family friends died, a year after there were grand-grandma and three family friends, and many more...

14 years old. Yeah. I remember, it was a first time when I thought: “My dad will probably die because of a stroke. His face gets so red when he is screaming in anger”. 2008 year, hello, House M.D., teaching me new words.

“A girl was told by her dad that she had a happy childhood, a roof above her head, a food on her table and some money. Often told. Constantly told. It was true, but was there a need to repeat it? He needed to. He also told her he can clearly see she doesn’t value anything he gave her. That she doesn’t respect him. He demanded love. He believed there were all the ingredients for happiness. He was telling it but he rarely talked to her. They lived in one appartment yet she felt they were a little closer than strangers”

My dad was a complicated man to say the least. He was a large man with a strong physique, a wide chest yet narrow shoulders. His features were rounded: a round face, a big nose, plump lips, bushy eyebrows, even his black beard was making him feel rounder. My whole childhood I was told I was a female copy of him. He was a man leaving a grand impression about him, a succesful man, loved by his friends, relatives and wife... and strangely enough he was also an absent father.

For some reason I still can vividly remember his dark yellow teeth, black on the edges, and a brown tongue behind them. He drank a very strong black tea, 2 to 4 teabags at the same time in a large cup. The stains after such tea was impossible to wash away. Oh, and I just have to mention the amount of smoking he had. Pack after pack. Some fathers quit smoking when they get kids. My father was smoking even when I, being an infant, was sleeping near him in my mom’s embrace. I never smoked myself. Never ever.

The smell of cigarettes was everywhere. It was on the furniture, on my clothing, on my hair. The smell was so strong sometimes my teachers in school were asking if somebody recently smoked, although I was a whole day away from home. The smoke turned wallpapers in my dad’s room yellow; a lamp, a table, a computer and bookshelves had a very distinct greasy feel about them because of resin and dust. Maybe only whiskey and vodka bottles were cleaner. They were changing often.

My mom was worried about him. She called it “a path of self-destruction”.

And he still had a leg in those years.

It was 2011, I was still 16, soon turning 17, when I heard about the second type diabetes. I didn’t understand how it workes, but the most shocking news were: “They are going to amputate your father’s big toe”. Oh man, it’s so silly now how scared I was.

It’s just a toe.

What’s weird to me to remember that from this and several years later I was fixated on the topic of amputation. It was a repeating theme in my sketches... though it weren’t legs. It were hands. A crying mermaid with amputated hands. A cheerful alien with stumps instead of her arms, with clunky prosthesises made of thin metal tubes. A monster bleeding out with a chopped arm. Zombies falling apart. Decaying robots. A blood. A torn skin. Scars. Bare bones. And crying. Lots of crying characters. It was my weird way of coping.

So the doctors kept slicing his foot until there were no toes on it.

I thought he was powerful. I thought he could hurt me, though not physically. He never beated me, no. Though I was so stressed I believed my scared mom, that he could kicked us out of the house.

Bones in my dad’s foot were destructing, because he was refusing to change his lifestyle, even at cost of his own health.

I was 19. It still is a gentle age for a girl. I needed a feeling of safety... and yes, I had it at home. While also being afraid of my dad’s rage, if he knew about my sexuality.

Even if he was already in a wheelchair without a leg.

And then the coup in 2014 happened. I lived several districts away from it. For me it was one of the most traumatising events. It was brutal. I was afraid I could be killed just while walking with my dog. The world I’ve lived before was burning alive in front of my eyes. People were drunk of inpunishability. A feeling of safety was lost for many years.

The only thing in her terrified words might be true that he could turn our lives into emotional torture. Oh, he was very good at making you feel like a trash. Like the lowest of the low. Like a pathetic piece of a garbage.

My father was afraid of death and uncertainty. Numbing himself with alcohol he was able to push through those fears and take care of me and my mom. The truth is... he was a weak man, too. Instead of trying to discipline himself so diabetes would stop devouring his body, the bloodvessels in his brain, his eyes, his legs, his kidneys, my father just... stayed on the path of self-destruction.

No cries would convince him to change so he could stay longer with his loving family.

No foul wound would stop him.

I was 21. I remember that night, when he returned from the hospital. He seriously was at the death’s door. Before his return I’ve cried for several hours feeling guilt that I was angry at him, being horrified that I might loose him. When he returned, I thought about all the inspirational movies I’ve watched, you know, that kind: “After near death experience our protagonist will find a will power to change his life!”. I loved such kind of movies.

I wanted them to be truth.

I’ve heard my mom starting to weep when she walked out of my dad’s room, yellow of nicotine. I walked into his room and saw him... smoking and pouring a glass. He wanted to relax. As if nothing has happened. As if me and my mom hadn’t cried our eyes out for him.

It was the first time I’ve screamed at him in rage. I was afraid of my dad for those last years, I was always meek and passive around him because he would easily suppres me. But I was enraged at that moment. How dare he smoke after everything. How dare he drink after what doctors told us: “You can start mourning”, because his kidneys were clearly failing. And he was surprised, of course. He started laughing at me. “Look at you! You can be like that?”. I remember his dark yellow teeth glistening in the light of a table lamp. He was laughing in self-defense.

“Hey, look at her!” - he called my mom, rolling his wheelchair to the bathroom door. He kept laughing, almost hysterically, as we both could clearly hear my mom hopelessly crying in the shower.

I felt so much disdain, and anger, and sadness, but most of all - the horror of understanding. Dad was still laughing. My outburst had no other way to leave my chest but to shout at the top of my lungs right in my father’s face: “I wish you would die already!”

He stopped laughing.

I ran to the kitchen and burst into tears sitting on the floor, as that new realization weakened my knees.

There was no hope.

It was not an inspirational movie. It was not a fairytale. It was not a story about taking control over your life and trying to save it.

It was a story about unstoppable relentless self-destruction. No matter how many bones would crumble, how much flesh would be cut away, how further blind he would become.

It was despair. Soul-crushing despair. In the chaotic world after the coup, during the civil war, where it still felt safer beside my half-blind father with no leg on the wheelchair, than far from him... there were no hope that he would live long enough to even see me graduating from university.

About two more times he was also near death. Diabetes killed his kidneys.

“There once was a boy in a body of a big grown man. Both of his parents died of cancer. His lighthearted yet timid father faded away, turned into a skeleton covered with skin. His narcissistic mother, who looked like a giant jellyfish on her deathbed, died right after her son scolded her for tormenting a nurse. The boy was so lonely and sad no one around him could bring him comfort. Even the sight of sauce that his mother cooked him in the past could brought him into tears. It reminded him how harsh he was with her right before she died. He didn’t say goodbye. Or that he loved her”

I haven’t told my father a proper goodbye either.

I was abroad trying to date a girl that was clearly not a good match for me. I was looking for comfort and haven’t find any. My mother hasn’t told me anything before I returned home. She thought I was happy and didn’t wanted to ruin that trip for me. For several days she was forcing a smile for me during videocalls.

It was cerebral edema. He died at night, delirious and screaming, shouting us to run away, so the infamous nazi gang from my country wouldn’t catch us. She told me when I’ve returned home and at first I haven’t any words to say or any tears to cry.

The 6th January of 2017 was the date of his death.

He kept slowly dying over the next couple of years.

People were confused how I could be so stoic at the funeral. I don’t know myself. I just felt hollow. My mom though was falling apart, overventilating as she tried not to cry while seeing her husband in the coffin. She asked my cousin to slap her across the face so she would no lose consciousness - and yeap, it was me who slaped her, as my cousin was too shocked by such request. I felt that me being calm and stable helped my mom more than anything. I supported her. I gave her comfort. The world was crushing for her without him.

While I was thinking... that, strangely enough, my world continued to exist.

I’ve cried for my father’s death several times, but the death itself wasn’t happening. And when it finally happened, there were not many tears left. Though I still feel the ache in my heart for him. He was so lonely. He had such a big responsibility on his shoulders, he continued to work even in the hospital bed so he could provide us. He tried to protect us from the evil of the world around us even at his last moments.

I respect it tremendously, dad.

I’ve looked into my old drawings I have on my PC. My gosh. So many crying people. I haven’t realized before, how many tears were shed without actual tears, but through my artwork.

It’s such a pity we couldn’t became closer.

Eh.

It’s been six years.

I suppose I can say I’m no longer a person I used to be. I hope so. I was such a coward.

It’s 3 am on my clock, I’ve been writing for five hours in one sit, gosh darn it. Perhaps I really needed it.

And I feel better.

Despite everything happened between us, I still love you.

#my writing #writeblr #writing #family drama #diabetes #amputation #death #father's death #sad memories #writers on tumblr #pencil #pencil sketch #drawing #pencil drawing #my post #my art #arainmorn's art

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twdmusicboxmystery · 1 year

Text

FTWD 8x04: King County

Okay, so episode 4 of Fear was REALLY interesting. I had heard about Morgan going back to King County.

And remember what I said about the foreshadowing of them bringing up King County in episode 1? TD correctness strikes again!

But seriously. I thought it was a little abrupt to suddenly have him all the way back in King County, but clearly Fear is trying to accomplish a LOT in this final season with very few episodes. Because I think it’s leading to a re-merging of the shows and the CRM war (which =s Beth), I’ll give them a pass.

So, Morgan returns to the house where he lived with Duane after he and Rick parted ways in S1. And we learn some interesting things. These are things we could possibly have gleaned from earlier episodes, especially Morgan’s cray-cray rambles, but they weren’t super-firmly confirmed.

We already knew that his wife, Jenny, in walker form, bit and therefore killed Duane. But what happened next was always murky. Here, we learn that Morgan left Duane in the house as a walker, and never put him down. So, he wants to return to King County and put Duane down, and properly bury him.

Fair enough.

Here’s the kicker, though. Lots of things go on in this episode. There’s Padre stuff and Sherry/Dwight stuff. By the time Morgan actually makes it into the house to put Duane down, we’re more than half way through the episode. And when he goes in…Duane is not there. Jenny is. He obviously put her down when she bit Duane (and he says as much when telling the story) but Walker-Duane is gone.

Sound a little like what we’ve always said happened with Beth? That when Daryl/TF returned to bury her, she was gone, and they assumed she turned and wandered away. Now, in Duane’s case, he truly WAS a walker, but it’s still a parallel to what happened with Beth during those missing 17 days, even if she wasn’t one.

So as it turned out, Morgan left Walker-Duane in the attic of a yellow house. Yes, yellow. Very important color for Beth. But Morgan didn’t remember doing that. He’d been in his grief/cray-cray mode and must have repressed it.

The point is, we have a memory issue here. Things didn’t happen the way Morgan remembered. He was remembering them incorrectly. It’s something my fellow theorists harp on a lot. We’ve long said that Coda was told from Rick’s POV, not Beth’s. And that TF, because of their grief, may be remembering things incorrectly. That’s why there are missing scenes. Yes, it’s totally because the writers don’t want us to know what happened, yet. But from TF’s point of view, it’s because they’re repressing things and honestly don’t remember everything that went down in S5. Which is why they can’t see that Beth might actually have survived.

I rewatched that scene where Duane is revealed. I’m not sure what the significance of the attic is, except that it’s an unseen, out-of-the-way place where Morgan didn’t originally think to look for Duane. So whether it was the attic, the basement, or some hidden, back room, the symbolism would still be the same, overall.

I also noticed that walker-Duane in this episode is missing an eye. (Sirius). He’s also wearing a red hoodie. Now, this is interesting. I was immediately reminded of this walker:

This is from S6, and Nicholas says he was a young man—like 19 *coughs* Beth’s age in S5 *coughs*--who Nicholas and Aiden left behind at one point. Literally, Nicholas says, "he was on my crew. He was nineteen. We left him behind." Sounds like Beth to me.

This walker, whose name was Will, a name we also saw recently in FTWD, also wore a red hoodie and was missing an eye. It’s a symbol they use a lot in the show, I think. It represents someone who was sacrificed and left behind.

So, two ties here. The red garment in Beth’s cell. While she wasn’t being sacrificed and left behind in that scene, it foreshadowed that she would be. They already had her arc figured out as 4x01 and the Bethyl hug happened. (Which incidentally is why it’s total bullsh*t that they would just change direction and kill her off, as so many people tried to make us believe.)

The other thing is that there are instances from S1 where Duane was also wearing a red hoodie. Now, we see him in it, as a walker, with a missing eye. I can’t help but wonder if Duane wasn’t character zero for where this symbolism came from.

Anyway, I’m not going to go into tons of details about this episode. That was the biggest thing. Morgan had some really interesting lines that could easily apply to Beth during those missing 17 days. “He must have gotten out.” “I waited too long.” “I couldn't put him to rest back then, and I can't put him to rest, now.”

Whether he speaks them or not, surely Daryl thought the same kinds of things during those 17 days after Coda when Beth’s body went missing.

What did everyone else think of this episode?

@wdway:

I watched it yesterday and need to watch it again. Agree with what you said above. I also felt they were showing that what we think we knew about a storyline isn't always true. What we think we saw at Grady/Coda might not be true. I think they’re already setting up the cliffhanger about the cure for the mid-season episode.

I was really surprised that they didn't use a more inland setting for Rick's hometown. The palm trees and the brick roads in the neighborhood screamed Savannah not your typical Georgia town.

@galadrieljones:

Just watched it during my long layover on the way home. The episode gave me so many scares.

I agree it is a bit of a shame they couldn’t manage to film in the Atlanta area. The interior set, however, is the same set used in the pilot. I loved the lonely cup on the table where Rick, Morgan, and Duane had their last supper. Made me think of the holy grail.

I also got a lot of vibes, re: WHAWGO, Grady, Missing 17 Days, Still. No time right now to talk, but I really look forward to hearing your thoughts!

There’s a lot of weird discrepancies with the house that remind me of Find Me. For example, see how there’s a clock in the old shot w Rick above? There’s no clock in the new shot. An interesting entry into the “missing time” motif. Lots of stuff is missing from the house, like Leah’s place in Find Me. Like where is all the furniture, etc.? No U-hauls in the apocalypse. Morgan and Daryl and messed up memories makes me wonder about the truth.

@wdway, I like your initial reading that they are teaching us here that the story were told isn’t necessarily true, or it’s not the whole story.

Like so what did Morgan go through? He put Duane on a leash and dragged him back to the yellow house? He tied him up in the attic like some old gothic horror novel. I wonder how king he was there with Duane, “playing house.” Yikes. Reminds me of the Governor and Penny.

It’s a good metaphor for how we hide our demons in the most far-removed places from our minds. The dead child in the attic.

Did Daryl take Beth somewhere with the intent to put her down before she turned, but he couldn’t? Did he see signs of life and choke, thinking he was crazy?

And even while the Dwight and Sherry stuff felt pretty tacked on to me in the episode, I was reminded of how Dwight also once returned to his and Sherry’s old house, looking for her and all he found was her ghost and a clue. Their house was yellow, too. And the house in On the Inside is yellow, only that house is also empty, a bait and switch. Maggie is hiding under the floorboards next door.

I did enjoy Finch’s little escape show tho. Cute little stealthy baby bird lol.

@wdway:

I need to go back and watch it again. What a great catch about the clock. I'm sure if you had not watched the one with Rick you would have missed it and that would have been a shame. And what is replaced from the clock is three candles. It looks like two white and one creamy yellow. The same color as the Holy Grail cup. Love your interpretation of that glass, so spot on. Should we point out the fact that there's three chairs. I couldn't help but think of all the empty chairs that we saw in s11.

@galadrieljones:

I need to watch it again too! And yeah, it was cool to have seen Days Gone Bye just the other day.

Good call on the empty chairs. I just can’t stop picturing Daryl somehow being back in Atlanta at the funeral home, staring at the table where he and Beth had had their last supper all those years ago.

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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marmolady · 2 years

Text

Twins

Main Pairings: Graleister

Summary: Aleister and Grace's happy family gets bigger. OR in which we meet Erin and Imogen Hall.

Word Count: 4265

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading! Comments and re-blogs make me EXTRA happy.

______________________

La Huerta, March 2028

“At least you’re sitting down for this,” he said. “I certainly wish I had been.”

It wouldn’t be an issue this time, he made certain, seating himself beside his sister before continuing.

Estela’s face clouded with concern, then dawning fear. “Grace… she’s--”

“Fit as a fiddle,” Aleister assured hastily. “And actually, taking it all in her stride. It’s just myself who’s….” He trailed off.

“Aleister?”

He winced. “Twins,” he said at last. “We’re having… twins. Two babies. Two babies! At the same time!”

Estela was, of course, familiar with the concept, but thought better of snarkily saying as such. Instead, she brought forth her honest reaction to the news, which was a simple; “Holy crap.”

“Holy crap indeed!” Aleister panted, worked up. “I had my doubts in myself before we had Reginald, but that was one child--”

“One child who would tell you you’re a pretty great dad.”

Aleister shook his head. “I swore I’d never let him be neglected. Above all else, I wanted to be a father he could rely on.”

“That’s not gonna change,” Estela said. “You make Reggie a priority, and you still will even if he has to share that top tier.”

“I’m not… a natural with babies. All those times I called you in a panic because Reggie wouldn’t settle….”

“Most people find it hard in the beginning. And you do a hell of a lot more than a lot of so-called ‘fathers’ do-- that’s before we even go there with the likes of… yeah….”

In his fear, Aleister latched on to that ‘the likes of’, for that was what he was made from. All he had to offer. “I’m bound to leave my poor boy in the cold. I could barely manage one infant, let alone two, and he’ll be given the scraps of what’s left of my time.” My love. “My genetic programming will out after all. I suppose he’d laugh.”

Estela took him by the shoulder and shook him hard, making him yelp in surprise.

“What the--?”

“Gilipollas! Get a goddamn hold of yourself!” she snapped. “You drop the ball here, it’s all on you. And you’re not fucking going to.”

“Oh? You have a crystal ball now, do you?”

“Better. I know you.”

“That’s it? How reassuring--”

Estela snapped across him. “The father you are wasn’t inherited by any genetics, he was grown in protest to how that bastard failed you. Don’t pity yourself into forgetting that!”

Aleister silently opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air.

After a while, he managed to meekly get out; “I… I don’t suppose you’d let me.”

“Hell no.”

Aleister was still shaky, but managed to look his sister in the eye. So fierce, the way she looked at him… but that fierceness was on his side. The no-nonsense approach was helpful; a good balance to Grace’s gentle compassion. In some ways, Estela’s blunt words were easier to take to heart.

“I suppose…,” he muttered, “it’s not as if his genes seem to be very potent.”

He and Estela so rarely talked about the very thing that linked them. A man like that was better not remembered. But it was difficult for old wounds to totally heal when the cause of the damage was buried deep down. Aleister reminded himself of the truth fear had hidden from him. The truth, he knew, was that his own father wasn’t why he’d be a bad one; his own father was what had made him care so much that he wouldn’t be.

Estela grunted her agreement. “I’m all my mom,” she said, pride evident in her voice and in her eyes. “And you got the full DNA blast and you still don’t look a thing like him. It’s almost as if nature was determined there was enough of him in this world already.”

“It has,” Aleister admitted, “rather tickled me how little I resemble the man considering… considering my origin.”

Estela’s dark eyes sparkled, teasing. “Just as well. If I twigged who you were, I’d have kidnapped you and held you hostage. You had a lucky escape, hermano.”

“Well, I’m afraid the egg would have been on your face-- there would certainly have been no rescue mounted. I suspect the bastard would simply have gotten a laugh out of it.”

Yeah… that sounded about right. “Asshole.” She shook her head. She knew her brother; she knew he wasn’t anything like the man whose genes he carried. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to be anything like him as a father. She’d seen the way he twirled his little boy in his arms… the way he kissed his grazed knees and read to him each and every night. “Aleister-- what if I was to swipe a kid of yours?”

Aleister answered curtly, not missing a beat. “I would have you stuffed and mounted on my wall.”

Estela snorted with laughter. She’d like to see him try. “See,” she said, serious once more. “You’re nothing like him at all.”

That brought him up short.

“It’s strange,” he said quietly, “how reassuring it is to have it demonstrated that way. Your pep talks are rather darker than Grace’s or Taylor’s….”

“You knew that when you came to me. If it helps you, it helps you. But you should know, however you want to go about hearing it; you would be a good father. I know that’s coming from someone who never had one, but unfortunately that’s the only perspective I’ve got.”

“That may be true,” Aleister noted, “but I have great respect for the parent you are-- and the aunt. I’d happily take that perspective.”

It was Estela’s turn to be left flustered, a pink blush across her cheeks to her ears giving her away. She cleared her throat, averting her gaze. “That means… thanks, I…. That means a lot.” After taking a few moments to recover, she looked back to him. “It’s going to be okay. Twins is nothing you can’t handle.”

_________________________

USA, December 2028

Her face still red from hours of shrieking, infant Imogen, only three weeks old, gave in at long, long last, her eyelids fluttering, then closing. Peace.

Hallelujah. Halle-bloody-lujah.

Aleister might have wept himself, but rather he looked up from his newly slumbering daughter to meet Grace’s weary eyes to share with her a moment of triumph.

And then, because life is cruel, a whimper came from the second crib. The parents held a breath together, and with it a silent prayer, but the whimper became a wail and Ernest was suddenly very awake.

His cries woke Immy, and the shrieking resumed-- if anything, redoubled.

Grace sank down into the side of the bed, her face in her hands. “I… I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.” She was shaking. “I think I’m about to lose it….”

Aleister gently lowered Immy into her crib, feeling an absolute monster as he placed her down while she screamed and cried, then walked over to put his arms around Grace.

“Darling, come downstairs,” he urged, and he kissed her head. “I’ll make you a cup of tea, and we’ll take ten minutes.”

Ten minutes to pull themselves together so they could survive however many more hours the twins kept them going.

Grace looked up, pained, guilt-stricken, and Iris floated over, wanting to reassure.

“Grace, dear, the ten minutes it takes for the two of you to refresh and be okay will give your children so much more than what you can offer if you’re burnt out to nothing.”

Once his wife was settled in the comfiest armchair with a steaming cup of tea, Aleister returned to the kitchen to retrieve his own brew, only to be met by his eldest son, up many hours past his bedtime. Six-year-old Reggie was up in his pyjamas, his small, thin face streaked with tears, his eyes puffy.

“I can’t sleep…,” the small boy sniffed, and then fresh tears began to flow. “The babies are… are too loud. Daddy, why are they so sad?”

Forgetting all about his tea, Aleister knelt down and swept his son into his arms.

“Oh, Reggie, I’m so sorry they’ve kept you awake… come here, my darling boy. I promise; it’s going to be all right….”

“Daddy,” Reggie sobbed, “I just want to sleep! Daddy, I just want to sleep! Why won’t they stop?”

His little boy in distress damn near ripped Aleister’s heart out. At the end of his own tether with the incessant screaming, he’d nonetheless call upon reserves he didn’t know he had to comfort his beloved Reginald. He could do little but hold him, to let him know he was heard, and so very, very loved.

As Reggie hiccoughed in his arms, Aleister had to admit that they needed help. It hurt his pride, but logically, he told himself, he and Grace were only two people, and three crying children needed more than they could physically give. It was simple mathematics. There was no shame in knowing when you’d reached your limit; it was time to call in the cavalry.

An hour had passed, and there seemed to be no let up in the twins’ crying. Down in the basement, though, barely a peep could be heard. It was almost unnerving, but Aleister knew immediately from the change in Reggie’s demeanor that it had been the right call.

“There you go, Reginald,” he said, pulling back the comforter to invite the child into the freshly-made up camp bed that his aunts had brought over, “peace at last.”

Grace, still tense, kissed her son’s cheek as he snuggled in next to her. Doubt plagued her. How could she call herself a mother when she hid away from her crying babies? But, she told herself resolutely, it was best for her children that she be okay. Tonight-- or rather, this morning by this point-- her being okay looked like leaving Twins Duty to their Auntie Taylor and Tia Estela. She was close enough to come rushing if need be… but she was also there for Reggie when he needed just a bit of comfort and quiet.

Five-year-old Liv tumbled around at the end of the inflatable mattress, giggling as she toppled repeatedly over the edge.

“Liv, honey,” Grace said gently, “we’re going to need you to settle down just a little bit, okay? Your mommies told you it’s sleep-time, yeah?”

Liv crawled back up the bed and crashed down right up against her older cousin. “My mama and my mama said no playing, just sleeping.”

Aleister, yawning, climbed into bed so that the children were sandwiched between himself and Grace. Taylor and Estela’s rescue attempt would only succeed if their own little one gave in to sleep. “That’s right, I’m afraid,” he told her. “You and Reggie will have so much more fun together if you’re well-rested first.”

At that, Reggie opened his eyes. “Livia can stay and play in the morning?”

“Of course, my sweetheart. Now close your eyes.”

Reggie did so, with a tiny sigh of relief, contentment even. Then he mumbled out his usual goodnights, with a few extras, for this night was a little different. “Night-night, Daddy. Night-night, Mommy. Night-night, Immy-and-Ernie. Night-night, Auntie Taylor and Tia Estela. Night-night, silly Liv.”

“Goodniiiiight,” Liv sang, then she too closed her eyes.

When Aleister looked up from the children, Grace had already nodded off. His heart swelled with affection.

Bless her, her head must have barely grazed the pillow. Reggie won’t be far behind.

“Sleep tight,” he whispered.

_________________________

La Huerta, June 2031

The water of The New Celestial’s pool shimmered with sunlight, and welcomed back old friends for what had become the annual reunion. For the two littlest, the two-and-a-half-year-olds tentatively testing out their brand new water-wings, the big poolside gathering was something rather novel.

Imogen was far and away the bolder of the two. While Ernest was shy, withdrawing to the safety of his mother or father when faced with the large group, Immy was simply indifferent. She was a thinker, taking in everything all around her, and all these people she knew were familiar-- even if the didn’t usually appear all at once. She just got on with her explorations of the world, paying little heed to most of the people around her… except for the other kids, and except for Craig and Zahra. From when she was a tiny, tiny tot, Immy had been absolutely fascinated by the pair she’d quickly deemed to be the funniest of the big adults. Aleister noted the growing attachment as rather ominous. Heaven forbid what influence the likes of those two might have on his little daughter….

Ernest was a cuddler. When overwhelmed with the world, he cuddled Grace or Aleister, or his Auntie Taylor or Tia Estela whom he saw practically every day. When he was feeling brave, however, he’d cuddle just about anyone. He’d learned very quickly that Raj was a first-class cuddler himself, and as Ernie started coming out of his shell, on this, the first morning of the reunion, it was Raj to whom he was drawn.

“Heeey, li’l dude!” Raj cooed, opening his arms wide as the toddler paddled towards him. “Come on over here!”

Sitting in the shallow end, always ready to reach out and grab either of the twins if need be, Aleister gave Raj a stony look that was only half playful. “If you even think of pulling one of your world famous belly-flops while the twins are in the pool….”

Raj just laughed. “Al, my brosky, we’ve gotten this far without drowning any dudelings, not about to start now!” And he floated back on his back, and placed a beaming Ernie onto his vast stomach. “Look at you now! Best seat in the house.”

Her father’s momentary distraction was all Immy needed to get into mischief.

“Oh, no you don’t….” Aleister hastily reached back to his other side, and retrieved his little daughter’s skinny little arm from the pool’s filter.

“No! No!”

From his vantage point, Ernie chortled merrily. No one knew how to make him laugh quite like his sister.

Aleister found it all rather less amusing, especially as, for someone so small, Immy certainly knew how to kick up a large fuss.

“You-- can’t-- put your-- hand in-- there---”

“No! No!”

At that moment, Grace arrived at the pool with Michelle, a pregnant Quinn, and four-year-old Isla. And thus Aleister was spared the tantrum that had so surely been brewing.

“Mommy!”

“Are you checking the filter still works?” Grace laughed, and she took Immy upon her knee and bounced her there.

Saved. Aleister strategically positioned his lithe body in front of the opening for the filter, just to be safe. He knew better by now than to underestimate his daughter’s stubbornness when she was focused on something. That she was utterly fascinated by how things worked would surely set them up for lots of interesting conversations when she was older, but for now, that curiosity meant that she’d stick her fingers into just about anything.

Thankfully, in this instance, Immy’s big friend Isla was fun enough that the pool filter was forgotten… at least for the time being.

Grace floated over, wrapping her arms around Aleister’s neck and bobbing closer in the water. She chuckled gently at his serious expression, and kissed his cheek. “You’re allowed to relax now and then, honey.”

Aleister felt his face flushing pink. Even after all this time, it never took much when Grace was around. “Darling, you do recall that we have two toddlers?”

“I do.” She kissed him once more. “And we’re doing just fine.”

Of course, he doubted it. He was human after all, and a human who’d grown up with emotional abuse and the constant message that nothing he could do was enough. But he and Grace had made a pact; he’d recognise and acknowledge out loud the good in her that she couldn’t see, and he’d do the same for him. And they’d never challenge that such good was there. Grace said they were doing just fine, and so… they were doing just fine.

Gazing across the pool to where Ernie was lounging upon Raj’s front as he floated there-- looking for all the world like Mowgli and Baloo in The Jungle Book--, and to where Immy was squealing with mirth as Isla bounced her up and down, making progressively large splashes, Aleister had to concede that Grace did have a point.

Yes, the twins were a challenge. But they were totally surrounded by love and always would be. So, he supposed, they weren’t doing ‘just fine’. They were doing stupendously.

UK, May 2028

Grace waited outside the exhibition hall, Reggie’s little hand in hers, while Aleister retrieved their coats. Tears pricked her eyes.

She hadn’t really expected her mother to show. Blaire Hall’s acceptance of the invitation had been a long time ago-- before the email that told her that Grace was now expecting twins. There had been no reply. Grace was almost grateful for that; after the judgement her mother had inflicted on her upon her first pregnancy, she’d dreaded what cruel words would come this time. The simple text message she’d received that very afternoon had said enough anyway.

‘I can’t make it, Grace. Do well, dear.’

That had been it. A chance to build bridges before Grace’s little family grew and drifted further away, and it had, as she had always been, rejected. Grace had little doubt that it was because of the pregnancy.

Protectively, she placed a hand on her belly. Her mother didn’t deserve to know her grandchildren. She was out of chances.

“I thought Granny was going to come and see your pretty pictures?” Reggie asked innocently, tugging at his mother’s hand. “It’s not nice that she changed her mind when it’s your special day.”

Grace had to take a deep, shaky breath before answering. “I know, sugar. She just decided other things were more important.

“I wish Granny Blaire was the dead grandma and Grandma Imogen was the alive grandma…,” Reggie muttered, looking at his feet.

Oof. But how could she blame him? She’d been lying if she hadn’t had that fleeting forbidden thought herself.

Grace knelt down, and tenderly held her son’s shoulder. “It does seem unfair that some really kind people can’t be with us physically.”

Reggie nodded stiffly.

“But,” she said, “what’s really important is that you appreciate the people in your life, how you have them. We are so, so lucky to have Grandma Imogen. Even if it’s not in exactly the way we most want.”

“Why doesn’t Granny Blaire love us? She’s not a very nice mom.”

How to answer that?

Grace looked her young son in the eye, her heart overflowing. “Oh, hon. I promise you it’s nothing we’ve done wrong, and especially not you. Some people… some people just find love a bit tricky. Maybe they never got shown how to do it when they were growing up, or maybe it’s just not what they’re good at.” She kissed his forehead. “Even though it feels like it sometimes, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, or me, or Daddy, or the twins. Somewhere along the line, Granny Blaire just got stuck not knowing how to love very well.”

“She must be very sad.”

“I think she must be. She misses out on so many things-- like feeling the babies kick, and seeing the beautiful pictures you draw for us, and holding hands when we walk along the beach. I wish my mom could know how special those things are.”

Reggie hugged his mom tight, something that was getting trickier now that she had a fast-growing baby bump. In some ways it made hugs even better, though-- now, Reggie could hug his mom and his baby brother and sister all at once.

“I’m really happy we can do all those things with Grandma, even though she’s different from other grandmas. Some kids don’t get to play with their dead grandmas at all!”

Oh, sweet child.

“You know,” Grace said, “Daddy suggested we could name the girl baby after your special grandma.”

“Really? Baby Imogen and Grandma Imogen?”

“Yes, really! I wasn’t sure, but the more I think about it, the more I think the name is just perfect.”

“Because we love Grandma, and also we love the girl baby?”

Grace squeezed her son. “That is exactly right!”

They had to celebrate what they had, because what they had was everything.

Guess that’s one baby named! One down, one to go….

________________________

USA, January 2033

Ernie shuffled around her name cards; each had written on it a name beginning with ‘E’-- a shortlist her parents had given her to choose from. Her new name. A name for a girl. She traced a finger along the shape of the letters of the one she’d brought to the front of her stash… ‘E’… ‘A’… ‘R’… ‘T’… ‘H’… ‘A’. That one, Ernie knew, was ‘Eartha’. She had ‘Eartha’ and ‘Eliza’ and ‘Emma’ and ‘Emily’. And ‘Eleanor’ and ‘Evangeline’, which she’d already decided were too long and hard to read. She was only four after all.

She moved ‘Eartha’ to the back of the pile and smiled a little when she recognised the shapes that made up the name that she liked to look at again and again. ‘E’… ‘R’… ‘I’… ‘N’.

It was almost ‘E’… ‘R’… ‘N’… ‘I’… ‘E’. Just one letter missing, and two swapped around. Erin, Erin, Erin.

Her mommy told her that ‘Erin’ was Quinn’s middle name. That, Ernie thought, was pretty special. Grown-ups could be a bit scary… but Quinn was always kind and smiling, and never scary at all. When the family visited Quinn and Michelle’s place a few months prior, Quinn had put a stool in the kitchen so Ernie could see up on the counter when she was baking. Ernie got flour on her face, and cake mix between her fingers, and even icing in her hair. Quinn had laughed with her, and dabbed icing on her own nose. Ernie already knew that her new middle name would be ‘Grace’ because she wanted to share with her mommy. How lovely, she was beginning to see, it would be to share a name with Quinn, who she also loved.

Ernie got to her feet and trotted to the kitchen, her special name cards in hand.

“Daddy, can you say this one?”

Aleister looked up from the dishes, and dried off his hands. “That one, darling? That’s ‘Erin’.”

“Can you say it in big, so I can hear it?”

“Say it in…? Oh, I see! If you chose that one, your full name would be ‘Erin Grace Hall’.

Ernie mumbled it after him, trying out the feel of it in full.

“You rather like that one, don’t you?” Aleister gently prodded. His little Ernie was such a quiet, self-contained little soul, it could be a challenge to know where her head was at. Choosing a new name could well feel very daunting, but as far as he could tell, Ernie was rather enjoying pondering on it.

“It sounds like a name for a girl,” said Ernie. “Can we… can we tell Mommy ‘that one’? I think ‘Erin’ is my name.”

“I think Erin sounds like a name for a very special girl. It suits you very well. Let’s go and find Mommy, shall we?”

Ernie slipped her little hand into Aleister’s big one and looked up at him with big, sparkling eyes. “Yes please, Daddy.”

In his little girl’s eyes, Aleister knew, it all had led to this. She, after all, had always known who she was; it had just taken a little while for the message to come across. To himself and Grace anyway. Immy had always known that she had a twin sister, not a brother, and had referred to Ernie as such more often than not. They’d always picked out the same clothes, played the same games. Ernie had been free to enjoy dresses and bows without anyone looking too far into it, but from the first day she uttered ‘I’m a girl’, she’d been heard.

“Moooommmy!” Ernie called down the hallway as she dragged her father by the hand. “Mommy, I know my name now!”

She took Aleister to the office, where Grace was at the computer, poring over her latest fractal art project.

Grace turned in her chair, all smiles, and putting work aside for her little girl. Moments like these, the moments of connection she’d never had with her own mother, were her priority above all else. The look on Ernie’s face said it all-- this was a big one.

“You’ve chosen?” Grace exclaimed. “Oh, wow! That is exciting!”

Ernie stood up tall, emitting a sense of confidence so rare in her. “I am… E-Erin.” She did a little jig. “Erin-Grace-Hall! That is me now, Mommy. Erin is me.”

Grace opened her arms and enveloped Erin in the tightest, proudest of hugs, and Aleister put his long arms around them both.

“My sweetpea,” he said, “’Erin’ really is you. And I’m really happy for you, sugar.”

__________________________

La Huerta, December 2033

“I swear Immy got the evil psychopath gene. Should probably feel lucky none of the rest of us caught it, but she is definitely going to be an evil genius when she grows up.”

Grace couldn’t believe she’d heard those words out of her son’s mouth, a flippant comment to his cousin. She thanked their lucky stars it was she who’d overheard the exchange rather than Aleister… oh, he’d have been crushed to hear one of his precious children talked about in that way. Well, if she was honest to herself, Grace was too. A comparison between a monster of a human being and her precocious, aloof and admittedly mischievous five-year-old was unfair, and to her mind, cruel. Clearly, Reggie knew as much, going by the look on his face when his mother walked into the room where he and Liv had been hanging out over their Literacy homework.

The difference between the two children’s attitudes towards their late grandfather was startling. To Reggie, Rourke was clearly a boogeyman figure; a face to the vague concept of greed and plain evil. He could joke because he was sheltered, the threat represented no more pressing than any other fairy-tale villain. Grace supposed it was due to her and Aleister making a point of never giving that disgusting excuse for a human being any power in how they spoke about him. Having heard Reggie’s comments, she wondered if it was time to sit him down and help him truly understand the atrocities committed and attempted, and how they-- especially Aleister and Estela-- were affected by them to this day.

For young Liv, it was different. It was why even before having a long talk with her son, Grace’s first instinct was to care for her niece. To Liv, Rourke was a real and pressing threat even long gone as he was. A threat that had taken from her a grandmother, and ruthlessly tried to take both of her mothers as well. Rourke had done so much harm to Liv’s mom, and she’d grown up well aware of the fact. The poor kid had been so uncomfortable with Reggie’s flippant remarks about Immy’s nature that she withdrew from him completely, something Grace knew was unheard of.

Even after the kids were dealt with, Reggie’s words echoed around Grace’s brain. She couldn’t deny that it had crossed her mind… fears that whatever had been so deeply wrong with Rourke might carry on in some way through those who came after him. But it was a thought that she, and Aleister as well, had always brushed aside. The suggestion was absurd, and it brought out in her an even fiercer protectiveness of her children. And so, all she wanted now was to be with her little Imogen.

Immy was exactly where Grace expected to find her, crouched on the rug and putting together yet another attempt at a Rube Goldberg machine. Since receiving ‘Mouse Trap’ for her birthday a month prior, the concept had been the object of the little girl’s fascination. Again and again, she’d put it together and take it apart again, studying how all the mechanisms worked together and making up her own combinations. Now, she’d moved on to trying to put together a series of chain reactions from her own imagination.

Her heart swelling with affection, Grace knelt down to her daughter. “How’s it going, sugar?”

Leaning back to sit on her bottom, Immy frowned. “You can’t watch it go yet, Mommy. It doesn’t work.”

“Oh? If you want to show me later, I’d like to see what you’ve been so busy with, but if not, that’s all right too. You’ve been working so hard.”

A frustrated Immy took both arms and pulled down all the dominoes, and paper cups, and spoons, and rubber bands, and funnels, and marbles, in one fell swoop.

“Honey!”

“Why can’t I work it out?” the little girl cried. “Nothing does what I want, and I try all different things!”

Grace saw tears forming in her daughter’s dark eyes. Had Reggie said something to her jokingly? She held out her arms, and Immy took shelter there.

“Do you know what, darling? When you start feeling like that, usually it means it’s time for you to take a good break.”

“But if I don’t keep trying, I’ll never get it right! Why’m I not smart enough?”

That was frighteningly familiar. Grace wasn’t seeing Rourke-- she was seeing herself. How was Immy only five and already putting such high expectations on herself?

“Oh, baby,” she assured. “You are plenty smart enough.” She cupped Immy’s chin and looked into her eyes. “You are everything enough. You just get so focused on what you want to do that sometimes you forget that the most important thing is having fun. Sometimes, your brain can get all clogged up with all the thoughts you’ve got in there. If you take some time out, you might find the best ideas come to you then.”

Immy was quiet for a minute, mulling it over. Then she blurted out: “I’m good-person smart and not bad-person smart like Daddy’s daddy?”

It was confirmation of what Grace feared-- she’d really need to have a very serious talk with Reggie. She held Immy tighter. “You are wonderful-good-person smart, Imogen Hall. Anyone who says otherwise is just being silly and unkind.”

Immy sniffed, the tiniest flash of guilt crossing her face. “I did do a really clever chain reaction where a water balloon would fall on Reggie’s head if he opened his cupboard.”

“That is a little bit cheeky, I’ll admit.”

“But it made Erin laugh, which is why I thought it was a good-genius prank, not an evil-genius prank.”

Grace couldn’t help but laugh at the logic. She kissed her daughter’s head. “You know, pranks are only really funny if the person on the receiving end thinks so too.”

“I… think Daddy said that too before. I’ll tell Reggie I’m sorry for making him wet with chocolate milk.”

So that was where that whole bottle had got to. “How about we stick to water-based cheekiness next time as well?” She sighed. “You are such a pickle, young lady!”

And she wouldn’t change her for anything.

________________________

San Trobida, May 2036

Immy raced ahead, shaking what felt like the entire structure as she stomped. There was no fear in her-- certainly not of heights.

Poor Grace was not so fortunate. She’d faced her fears many times over by now, but she really was never going to get a head for heights. The wooden stairs that spiraled round and around the towering tree trunk into the canopy were an obstacle in themselves, and that was before she was to find herself crossing the rope bridge between the trees-- some hundred feet above the forest floor.

“You can do it, Mommy,” said seven-year-old Erin sweetly, holding out her hand from two steps above. “It’s not so bad!”

Higher up, thirteen-year-old Reggie was helping is father in trying to wrangle Immy. “You know all that shaking of the stairs isn’t making poor Mom’s jelly legs feel any better--”

“Oh,” said Immy, and she stopped abruptly. “Sorry, Mom.” She descended back down, making an effort not to stamp her feet so much. “Mom, I thought you’ve done lots of high up stuff? It’s high up when we go to Elyys’tel-- way higher than these trees.”

“I’m a bit more used to Elyys’tel, Immy,” Grace explained. “A lot of practice helps it become a little less scary. I’m sure after a few more tries I’ll be just as comfortable climbing this.”

As it happened, Elyys’tel had provided a great deal of inspiration for the canopy walk that had been erected in Parque Nacional Lago Zafira, San Trobida’s newest protected wilderness area. With the attraction still being something of a novelty, it was often busy with visitors, but by a stroke of luck the family had the place to themselves.

“See, girls,” Grace said, distracting herself by engaging her young twins, “right now we’re climbing through the understory layer-- do you know what that is?”

“I know that, Mom!” replied Erin eagerly. “It’s the bit underneath all the bushy bits of the big trees. There’s like smaller trees all spaced out.”

“And do you know what’s next?”

Immy scoffed. “Uh, yeah! We’re climbing up to a ‘canopy walk’. Gotta be the canopy up there!”

She was a little smart aleck that one, much, Grace often thought, like her older brother Reggie. It was small wonder they often butted heads.

“I bet,” Erin said, reaching for her father’s hand as she and Grace caught up, “when we get there, Daddy’s gonna be even taller than the canopy.”

“Daddy’s the emergent layer!” Immy giggled.

Aleister raised an eyebrow. “I’ll assume that’s complimentary, shall I?”

Grace couldn’t help but smile-- she was always helpless in the face of Immy’s ‘nerd humour’. They spent a lot of time out in nature together as a family, and she and Aleister always tried to throw in a bit of science education where they could. A part of her-- the insecure part that had been fed continuously through her early years-- nagged that she was simply bothering her children by trying to share her interests, but the truth was that some things were just all of theirs. The kids’ individual interests were lovingly nurtured, but as a family, they just plain enjoyed science.

“I told you, Mom!” Erin said brightly as the four of them at last reached the platforms high in the trees. “You can climb all the way up, no problems.”

“I’ve no doubt your cheering me on helped wonders, sweetheart.”

The next hurdle was the long bridge spanning the space between two of the tallest trees in the forest.

“Don’t worry, Reggie,” Erin was saying, patting his arm. “It’s just like the bridge at Elyys’tel!”

The older child grumbled, brushing her away. “I’m not--- Mom’s scared of heights, not me! I’m just thinking about Livi, that’s all. Sucks that she’s out of action… she really loves it up here.”

“I’ll take some photos for her!” Immy suggested, holding out her father’s phone over the side of the bridge and aiming it at the most sprawling view of the surrounding forest.

Immediately, Reggie hid his face in his collar. “Not with my face in it you’re bloody not!”

Erin put her arms around his middle and hugged him. “I’m sorry you’re sad,” she said. “We should all come back with Livi when she’s feeling better.”

“We will, Reggie,” Aleister said, “I promise. It might not be until we’re back from La Huerta, but I promise we’ll all come back up here together.

Reggie was still quiet, but seemed content enough to keep going across the bridge, looking out over the park and finding peace in nature. Immy remained a few steps ahead, always needing to one-up her big brother. But Erin stayed close, offering her mom a hand to hold.

“You can keep going, sweetheart,” Grace said, “Daddy’s taking good care of me, don’t you worry!”

Truth be told, seeing her precious children up so high turned her stomach far more than her being up there herself ever came close to, but she kept that smile plastered on. Her phobias were her problems, not theirs. After all, Aleister was always there to hold her hand when the nerves got too much. Slowly, slowly, they made their way to the next tree.

“Whoops,” said Immy. There was a small thud down below.

“Do my ears deceive me, or did the young lady taking photos with my new phone just say ‘whoops’?”

“Sorry, Dad, I dropped it….”

Aleister sighed, but waved his hand, dismissing her need to worry. “No matter, darling…. I didn’t get one of those tough cases for no reason. We’ll just have to let Tia Estela know to ring your mother’s phone if Liv needs us at the hospital before we-- sorry, who are we fooling?-- if we find mine.”

“We’ll find it!” Erin cried. “We can’t litter in the forest!”

Immy, of course, had an answer for everything. “Grandma will find it. There’s no one else here-- she should come out anyway!”

“Imogen,” Aleister said, “you know how important it is that we’re careful.”

“But we’re up high in the trees! No one will see her!”

Grace and Aleister exchanged a look. It was true that they were about as secluded as they could get. Secrecy, though, was important. Should Iris be discovered by a stranger, attention would be inevitable, and Aleister had worked hard to minimise any connection the world had between himself and his father-- for his sake and his family’s. Like the truth about La Huerta, who and what Iris was needed to remain secret.

“I bet Grandma would really like to see the big park you protected,” Erin said.

Aleister looked at his girls, then to Reggie, whose expression was no longer etched with sad concern but a hopeful twinkle, and he couldn’t help a reluctant smile. “I hope you know we can’t make a habit of this.” He opened the flap of his backpack, allowing the little metallic orb to fly free. “Mother, if you want to scan the area first, do you fancy joining us?”

And with that, the family outing was even better.

________________________

USA, November 2028

The little boy was handed to Aleister first, swaddled securely in a towel.

“He-he’s here, Grace,” he stammered. “Fine and healthy, and completely marvellous….”

Baby Ernest was frowning, no doubt bewildered by what to him must have been an unexpected entrance to this cold, strange world. Immediately, Aleister picked up on similarities with their dearest Reginald-- the texture of his hair, though Ernest perhaps had a little less, the steel blue eyes. Ernie’s skin was darker, and his cheeks chubbier even for being born a few weeks earlier… but he was Reggie’s brother all right.

With all the care as if the child were made of the finest glass, Aleister angled the little baby down to Grace, bringing him to her face so she could snuggle and kiss him. She wept, too overwhelmed to say even a word.

Then, the next baby was along; their little girl, Imogen. She was bigger than her brother, with a shock of dark hair, and was already shouting at the world.

Aleister chuckled through his tears. “Someone’s indignant at being plucked from her comfortable bed….” But to hear the strength that was so present in that tiny girl made him want to whoop with joy. Twins were always higher risk, but their darling babies were strong and well.

As Grace was sewn back up and monitored, the midwife helped the pair of them settle with the twins for their early skin-to-skin contact. Sitting upon the hard hospital chair by his wife’s side, Aleister soon had his tiny new daughter snuggled up on his chest.

“You just wait, little one. Wait until your Grandma finds out who you’re named after.”

Grace was beaming, and seemingly incapable of looking down at either one of her twins for more than a few seconds for the desperate need to gaze adoringly at the other. “She’s definitely an Immy, isn’t she?”

“It rather suits her. And I think you’re quite right; he’s ‘Ernest’.”

“Ernie and Immy….” Grace whispered the names again and again, and kissed Ernie’s exquisitely soft little forehead.

She was on top of the world, thoughts of people who’d let her down didn’t even reach her-- she was just there. There with her babies, with her love.

“Reggie’s going to love them so much….”

Somehow, the fears were gone. Vanished. This was right-- this was their family as it was meant to be. Aleister cradled his fragile little daughter and knew he would move mountains for her and for all of them. The wounds in his heart and Grace’s were being patched up by the simple presence of Ernest and Imogen, as they had been by Reginald before.

They were complete.

#endless summer #graleister #aleister rourke #grace hall #playchoices #catalyst kiddos

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daisiesflower · 2 months

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So some thoughts, hopes, theories for stranger things five. Not gonna tag this spoilers cause like it’s all coming from my own brain none of this is leaks or anything

I know the actor has claimed he isn’t but I wish Argyle would be coming back. And for more than like a guest character the way Suzy is, he was literally a main character of season 4 and if Robin could join the team permanently why not him

On that note I want him and Steve to be besties. I want Steve to have healthy male friendships of his own age but also it would be soooo funny cause Jonathan clearly still has petty beef with Steve after all this time but Steve’s totally moved on and considers Jonathan a friend and he would get along so well with Argyle, I think it would be hilarious because Jonathan would be fuming like he’s bitched to Argyle so much about this guy and Argyle is his best friend and now him and Steve are hitting it off. But he knows he doesn’t have any actual valid reason to be mad so he’s just really bitchy about it

Literally anything about Steve and Robin’s home lives. Literally anything. I am begging for scraps here.

I mean we all know Holly Wheeler’s going to go missing and play some important role in the plot. Is that even a question anymore. This one has always been a matter of when not if

I think there’ll be an episode of the Upside Down invading Hawkins using Vecna’s victims. Like I think it’ll be an episode dedicated to zombie flicks as characters come face to face with corpses of people who had major impacts on them and have to kill them all over again to protect Hawkins. I don’t think that’ll be part of the climax though I think it’ll be like mid-season to ramp up the stakes. Think that’s where we’ll get an Eddie cameo, think we’ll see Barb, we’ll see Billy, we’ll see Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, maaaybe Jason. The real question mark is Bob - he didn’t die in the Upside Down, his body was either completely eaten or it was moved by humans and buried so question mark whether Vecna has any control over him

As far as stancy vs jancy goes I want Nancy to end up single, with acknowledgments that none of them are in a place in their lives to be able to have relationships with each other for various reasons and an emphasis on stoncy moving on and coming together as friends. Most likely though I think jancy will end up together

Duffer bros are for sure going to kill someone off. Ideally for me it would be Jonathan (and I do have well thought out reasons if anyone wants them) but I don’t trust them to do that. Think it’s more likely to be Steve so that Nancy can be with Jonathan without guilt or whatever (would hate that)

I think the Duffer bros are invested in the romances they set up at the beginning of the show. The show started with mileven, jopper, and jancy so I think that’s how they’ll end it. Jancy I think is the most at risk due to them being very aware that Steve is more well-liked than Jonathan (by both general audience and themselves)

I so think Robin will be Will’s gay mentor. Cannot emphasize enough how much I Do Not Want This

I want Kali back. I know it’s not gonna happen. In my rewrite of Season 4 she joins the team permanently so she’s be there in Season 5. But unfortunately the Season 4 rewrite only exists in my head

I would love to see a Joyce-Robin team up. They struggle with so many of the same issues that I would love to see them find strength in each other. Plus Robin could use an adult figure in her life since she apparently doesn’t have parents (sarcasm). I feel like maybe I saw a pic of Maya and Winona filming so this could become a reality but it could also be my hopeful subconscious making shit up

I want Murray and Erica in the same grouping for an extended period of time. With Lucas there because I don’t want Murray alone with her (yikes) and also for the good good Sinclair sibling interactions. Max and Robin can pop in occasionally. I just want like sixteen straight hours of this man being bullied by teen and preteen girls. Would love to see a moment of Sinclair bickering and then Murray steps in and it becomes “oh hell no, no one gets to bully my sibling except me”

I want the season to start with a grouping of Max, Steve, and El. I love the Steve-Max relationship (he’s so older brother coded to her) and I feel like we’ve gotten little hints that Steve and El are close, that he considers her one of his little nuggets but we’ve never actually seen that

On that note I think it’d be funny if we make it through five straight seasons without Will and Steve interacting once

I want Nancy and Mike to find out about their mom nearly hooking up with Billy. It feels so weird and random to include as a plot point if nothing ever comes of it and neither of her kids ever find out. I think it could work for Nancy to find out in order to help her maybe make a decision about her future and her relationships, to really cement what she’s known all along which is that she doesn’t want to end up like her parents. I think for Mike it would affect his friendship with Max, I think he wouldn’t know how to behave about it and it would make thinks difficult between them for a bit

On a similar note I want Mike to have some time away from Will and El. Spend some time with Lucas and Max. He has other relationships that also impact his life besides just those two (even if they are arguably the most important)

I don’t think it really matters what grouping Dustin ends up in since he’ll be awesome no matter what. But since they’re obviously going to make the Wheelers more important, I want sixteen straight hours of him bullying Ted Wheeler

Actually since I also want Dustin and Erica being besties, let’s make that the foursome of the season. Dustin, Erica, Murray, and Ted Wheeler. Just Dustin and Erica bullying these middle aged men who also hate each other - Ted regularly calls Murray a communist and a kook (despite literal proof of other dimensions being right in front of him) and Murray hates him for voting for Reagan

I think that there will be like no reference to Russians. Firstly because this season is gonna be very centralized in Hawkins, I don’t see any plot points that aren’t about Hawkins’ direct focus happening. But also because the Duffers are quite good at listening to audience critiques and adjusting in ways that give the audience what they want without sacrificing their story. And last season they know damn well that the Russia plotline was the least favorite of anyone and that in Season 3 the only reason it was a favorite was due to the grouping of characters

I think Dustin’s plot and character specifically will be inspired by Eddie’s death in the way Nancy’s was by Barb. I wish with all of my being that this would be Mike’s story since he makes the most sense to idolize and emulate Eddie but alas I doubt that will happen. One day I’ll write a post about this. That day is not today

On the one hand I don’t trust them not to kill Steve. On the other hand, killing Steve means he can’t be used in any kind of spin-off…much to consider

I highly doubt byler will happen. I think it’s more likely the season ends for Will the same way Season 4 ended for Robin. I think he’ll spend the season learning to move on from Mike, then in like the second to last scene of the show will meet and bond with some random guy also implied to be gay with the clear subtext that this is Will’s future boyfriend

I want Tommy H and Carol back. I miss them

#stranger things #stranger things s5 #gonna go ahead and post before i learn too much about s5 that contradicts this

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alis-valot-propriis · 2 years

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@detectivexsergeantxwilliams || Cont from X

Lydia wasn’t entirely shocked when the pregnancy test read positive considering the three she’d taken before this one had had the same result. She’d just hoped that they were wrong. This wasn’t planned at all. She was supposed to start her new job in just a couple of days and she certainly hadn’t planned on being pregnant and having to take maternity leave during her first year of teaching and independent research. Though, she was in a triad and they usually couldn’t keep their hands off each other. She supposed two partners meant that she was more likely to get accidentally knocked up than if she was in a traditional monogamous relationship. She’d just thought they’d been more careful than this, but there was that vacation and she’d forgotten to take her birth control for a couple days amidst all the excitement. Again, she wasn’t entirely shocked, but she was a bit panicked. Then there was the obvious question of who knocked her up. Would that cause an issue? Not to mention she wasn’t even telling them together. She’d been too shocked and Danny was home with her. She’d dropped the capped test on the table in front of him and said, “I don’t really do well with babies...” Not the best way to break the news of an accidental pregnancy to one of her boyfriends.

Her breath stutters and tears she’d been fighting off roll down her cheeks as Danny pulls her into an embrace. She buries her face in his neck and listens to him tell her that she has options. That neither he or Steve would take that choice from her. It was more complicated than that. Danny loved being a dad and how would he react if she decided not to go through with this pregnancy. Not to mention, how Steve might feel. Would he take it as a rejection if she decided to end the pregnancy? She needed time to think about what she wanted.

She was just getting used to being in Grace’s life in the odd and still developing way that she was as her dad’s girlfriend. Would she be able to be a good mom to a baby? Historically babies didn’t really love her and she didn’t know what to do with them. Though did most first time parents really know what to do with a baby? She bites back a laugh when he calls Steve basically house broken. Danny was right though. Steve was a total marshmallow with kids. He may act tough, but he loved them. Danny was an experienced dad and an amazing dad who loved being a dad at that. Grace adored her father. Lydia liked kids, she just did better with older kids. She pulls away from him and spins the spoon ring she wears on her index finger, “I know you’re right. I know that with three of us, it’ll all be easier. I just haven’t really thought about this. I was single for so long and focused on my career...it just didn’t occur to me. Not to mention it isn’t great timing, but is there ever a good time?” she pauses, “How...how is this going to effect us? We don’t know who...well, we do, but we don’t. I don’t want this to ruin our relationship.” Her relationship with Danny and Steve was too important to her. She would be devastated if this edged one of her boys out of her life because they didn’t like the outcome of the baby’s paternity.

#tw accidental pregnancy #tw pregnancy #mention of abortion #dannyxstevexlydia #detectivexsergeantxwilliams #v: triad

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twdbegins · 3 years

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Having Sex on a Run with Rick

Rick Grimes x Fem! Reader

Request: Hay, I recently became active on your blog; And I love it so much already!? Your work for Rick? 😤 It’s damn fine! We need more for him,,I was wondering if I could get something for Rick where Reader and him are on a run and Reader feels frisky? Lust comes over the two and they make out, getting each other off? Basically they’re having a quickie on a run? Because the adrenaline is pumping if you get my gist... @positive-squid

Warnings: Smut. Profanity. Sexual content.

Rick could tell that something was off with you.

You weren’t acting badly or mean or anything.

But you seemed...antsy.

At first, he assumed that you were getting a little stir crazy.

Things in Alexandria had been good for a while, and mostly everyone had been sticking around trying to improve camp.

Even though Alexandria was extensive, he could understand how someone could still feel a bit caged in.

So he suggested that you accompany him on a run.

The two of you were close friends, so he didn’t see any issue with it.

He almost felt bad at how excited you got over it.

Rick figured that the group could always use more resources, so he didn’t feel as if this run was just for killing time.

You were bubbly as you slid into the passenger seat, positively stoked to be getting out for a bit.

Rick knew of a few places that needed to be scouted, so at least the two of you could get a day’s work out of this run.

It started as business as usual.

The two of you chatted as you scrounged for food or whatever else you could possibly use.

“Does Carl still need a pair of bigger boots? I think I just found a pair.”

“Sure, thanks. Do you think that Daryl would use this hairbrush?”

“Very funny.”

It was a pretty textbook run. The two of you chatted while you looked for things, throwing anything and everything even semi-useful into your backpacks.

Not to mention...it was brutally hot.

While it was a bit difficult to really ever truly know what day it was...

It was always unmistakable when summer had come back around.

The days were blistering hot and even the evenings were sticky and warm.

Sweat dripped down your back as you navigated the abandoned building that was somehow trapping more heat that you would’ve anticipated.

You had glanced over at Rick at one point to check on him, when you saw that he was having the same problem.

Sweat beaded around his forehead, some of it sliding down his face and neck.

He glistened in the daylight, his hard work being proven through his perspiration.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

It was the strangest feeling to be so drawn into him.

Sure, you had always found him attractive. It was hard to deny.

But you hadn’t really ever had a chance to just...look at him.

You eyed over his hands and arms as they moved stuff around.

His muscles flexed and relaxed in the most captivating way.

The veins in his hands and forearms were prevalent from both the heat and all the strenuous movement.

His dark curls were damp with sweat, yet he still looked so clean.

Your sights diverted to his hips, watching the way his legs moved in such a calculated way.

All kinds of dirty thoughts plagued your mind.

The thought of his hands around your throat.

His fingers in your mouth,

His cock buried somewhere deep inside of you.

He looked perfect.

A little too perfect.

It didn’t take him long to catch your stare, a confused smile as a quirked brow appearing on his features.

“Something wrong?”

You snapped out of your trance, embarrassed that he had just caught you staring.

“Nope!” You had squeaked, “All good here.”

He brushed it off, thinking you were tired from the day’s work.

It wasn’t until you were loading up the vehicle with all of your found resources that he noticed it again.

He noticed the way your eyes followed his every move.

The way you were listening extra closely when he spoke.

Something was on your mind, but he just didn’t expect that he was on your mind.

The two of you climbed into the truck, him in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat.

But he didn’t start the truck.

Instead he looked over at you, catching your bashful gaze.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Rick asked, this time a little more determined to figure it out.

You refused to admit to him that you had been pining over him for the last hour and a half.

Deny, deny, deny.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Rick wasn’t buying it.

He wasn’t buying that at all.

“You know, if something is bothering you, you can tell me. I don’t want you to be unhappy if it’s something I can fix.”

Oh, it was definitely something he could fix alright.

But still, there was no way that you were telling him that.

“I really am fine, Rick. Honestly.”

He still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push you.

He started the truck, thinking that he’d get through to you sooner or later.

The ride was quiet, both of you too caught up in your own thoughts to say much of anything.

You had tried to push your dirty thoughts aside, trying your hardest to control your feelings towards him.

But the way he looked in the late afternoon sun filtering in through the windows, mixed with the way he kept throwing side glances at you...you couldn’t.

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, please.”

Rick obliged, worried that something was wrong.

He barely even managed to get the truck in park before you crawled over the center console into his lap.

He didn’t even have time to be stunned, because your lips crashed into his before he could speak.

It surprised you, but Rick didn’t really question it.

He kissed back with the same energy, fiery and passionately desperate.

His hand came to the back of your neck, keeping you close and allowing your lips to hover over his when you pulled back for air.

He could feel the heat pooling between your legs through his pants, and he knew it wasn’t from the summer heat.

“I never knew you felt so strongly about me.” Rick had chuckled, already breathless from the heavy kissing.

He groaned when you dragged your clothed cunt over his thigh while you worked on getting his pants unbuckled.

He caught you in another kiss while you stroked his cock to an erection, his spine shuddering at the feeling of you touching him like this.

You praised yourself for deciding to wear shorts, getting them off with your free hand and with ease.

You knew you had limited space, since you weren’t too keen on doing this outside of the truck.

Not that you minded being in close quarters with Rick.

This was going to be a quick fuck.

You knew that this was the scratch the itch and the address the tension that had been building for a while.

Rick didn’t seem to mind that.

His fingers dragged through your folds, collecting your arousal as he rubbed the pads of his fingers on your clit.

You moaned at the feeling, the waves of pleasure already beginning and he hadn’t even gotten inside of you yet.

“You were really happy to be with me, huh?” Rick teased, spitting into his hand and lubricating himself just to be sure he didn’t hurt you.

Before you could respond, your hips were lifted by his hands and he slammed you down onto his cock to the point where your hip bones touched his.

A synchronized moan fell from your and Rick’s mouths, both of your head lulling back in ecstasy.

Rick wasn’t even moving yet and he was already stretching and filling you perfectly.

Suddenly, Rick was taking charge, which only added to your arousal.

He gave you a second to adjust to his size, letting you wriggle in his lap until you found an angle that was comfortable.

His hand tapped the side of your leg, prompting you to start moving.

You rotated between bouncing on his lap and rolling your hips, making sure that the satisfaction went both ways.

It was intoxicatingly perfect.

The way he felt stretching you and hitting every bundle of nerves possible.

The hot kisses and the heavy touches were everything you had ever dreamed of with Rick.

Your bounces were met by his thrusts, hitting your g-spot in the most flawless way.

You knew it wasn’t going to take long to get off.

This had been building up for far too long for your climax to be drawn out.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Feel so good.” He babbled, cheeks flushed and pupils blown.

His head was reeling, and he wasn’t sure that he was totally comprehending what was happening right now.

All he knew is that he didn’t want this to be the first and only time.

His cock throbbed inside of you, his own release begging to be spilled out into you.

You felt the twitch, and that in and of itself is what caused your orgasm to break out all over you.

You came with a squeaky moan, your entire body tensing up around him as your head fell to his shoulder and your hands gripped the back of the seat.

He thrusted a couple more times before he came as well, his release spurting into you and milking his cock white as he groaned out your name.

Your bodies went limp, chests heaving with heavy breaths and post-coital sighs.

His hand rubbed up and down your back slowly, his cum leaking out of you and onto his bare thighs.

A few minutes of silence passed before you raised your head.

Your dilated eyes met his, and what you saw was pure lust and content.

Most importantly, you could see the anticipation through his eyes, all the way to his soul.

You weren’t sure why, but something in your gut told you that this wouldn’t be the last time that you fucked Rick Grimes.

#Rick Grimes #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes headcanons #rick grimes headcanon #rick grimes smut headcanon #rick grimes twd #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead smut #HC requests #positive-squid #twdbegins

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scarlettriot · 3 years

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Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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huenjin · 4 years

Text

the study of relationships.

summary — college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. minho

genre — fluff, angst | volleyball!au, f2l!au, roommates!au

rating — nc-17

word count — 15k words

note — kinda excited to post this very long plotted fic on here because first long fic for skz !!! this fic is brought to you by hq, hyunjin's long blond hair and b me mv that we never got. please please do send me constructive criticism so that i can improve on my writing for this community. happy reading!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Your best friend, Hwang Hyunjin yells at the top of his voice, pitch lower in precision as you open the door and slam it shut forcefully, the sound loud enough to bounce to him clearly. Your feet storm hard against the wooden flooring of your apartment, sound bouncing off from that again and Hyunjin pauses his video game to look at you.

It's a familiar sight. Hyunjin sighs.

"Hey," he tries catching your attention but he fails. You storm into your room, hair flailing behind you in your anger, eyes blurry with the angst you feel that wraps slowly around your heart. You walk into the room and slam the door shut, so loud that a chip of wood breaks from the top of the door and falls down.

"Jesus Christ! Y/N—" Hyunjin yells to no one in particular. However, he drops his controller to the side of the couch and jumps to his feet only after pausing his game. He takes big strides to your room and in high contrast to his rash movements, his knocking on your door is very gentle.

"Can I come in?" He asks, scratching the door absentmindedly. He presses his ear and head against the door to hear a response but all he hears are your soft cries and it makes him sad.

"Y/N—"

"Go away, Hyunjin!"

"Y/N, let me in," he stresses, his leg kicking the air slightly, dangling before that. "I—"

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Will not." Hyunjin knows where this stems from and he won't deny. However, at this minute, he just wants to be there for you. Teasing could wait for an hour or so after you've calmed down. "So please?"

You hum and Hyunjin waits for a sign of protest. When he hears none, he takes it as an approval to open the door and the sight before him hurts him ever so slightly.

You are wrapped in a cocoon of your white blanket and your head is buried in the sheets outside, not ready to look up at your best friend. He frowns as he walks towards you, letting himself to sit by your side. He stretches his arm out and stops when you declare,

"I'm a world class dumpee."

"You are," he shrugs, voice tainted with a slight tease and you look up at him, glaring with your red, puffy eyes. You try shoving him but the cocoon you are wrapped in slightly falls forward too in impact. Hyunjin laughs and stretches both his arms forward to prevent you from falling forwards.

You pout, mumbling with a voice that is strained and is your proof of the urge to cry, "You promised you wouldn't."

"I'm your best friend," he shrugs and pushes your body wrapped in the thick blankets backwards, your head hitting against the pillow. A soft whine leaves your lips, followed by an oomph. "You knew I was going to tease you at the very first opportunity."

And then Hyunjin pounces on you, tickling your sides over the covers and your tickle sensitive being rushes in sensation as you laugh your heart out, chest heavy and mind focussing only on your best friend that you forget about the boy who broke up with you an hour back.

"Stop," you laugh. "Hyunjin," you whine. "Stop, you idiot," you laugh again. "I'm going to kill you—"

Hyunjin's laughter fills the air along with yours. In your perspective through your watery eyes, you see a boy with no worries and all smiles and you want to be like that. You desperately want to be like that. You push your wrapped body upwards to shove Hyunjin to the side and it works. He laughs, slowly receding with yours and he lets out a loud relieved sigh as he looks at your face with less creases and tears that now fall due to laughter.

"Hey," Hyunjin says and you turn your head to face him. His face is rigid, the childish gleam that he had just a while back long gone.

"Yeah?"

He sits up, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms soon after. "The guy was a jerk," he tells, helping you up. His hand finds the end of the blanket and unwraps it slowly from your being. "He was a mighty jerk, okay?"

"He is your teammate, Lee Minho," you stare, dead into his eyes and he shrugs.

"I know," he sighs before shrugging, giving you a nonchalant look. "What was it this time? Let me guess, he broke up with you for no reason again."

You hit the blankets that cover your thigh hard and send imaginary daggers in Hyunjin's way, "Yeah! I just don't understand why he'd break up with me."

"Uh, possibly because—"

"Is it because I'm on like close friend terms with everyone in the college volleyball team? I mean, Lee Minho always said dating—"

"Dating you would be hard, Y/N," Hyunjin continues, mocking your ex-boyfriend's voice. "You hang out with so many guys and all your best friends are dudes that it makes me jealous," Hyunjin pauses, placing his hands flat on the bed from behind as he leans back. "Ah, Lee Minho, that bastard. He always did say that to you."

You look down, fidgeting with your fingers and you roar out in anger. Hyunjin looks at you amused until you say, "Why can't guys be more like girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin's eyebrow is raised and he laughs mockingly. He lifts his arms from behind, stretches his back before sitting up straight. He kicks his legs and raises it upwards to sit cross legged, looking straight at you and laughs again. "You are totally kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not, Hyunjin," your eyebrows furrow. "The reason behind most, if not all, break-ups is the guy."

Hyunjin agrees with you deep down. Okay, maybe not completely but at least a ninety percent and that's a good one. However, he knows how competitive you are and if there's something that can get your head out of this post break up blues, it's this.

A competition. And so just to entice you a little, he sneers, "If anything, girls should be more like guys."

"Bitch, no," you laugh, head falling back at the sheer stupidity that rolls out from your best friend's mouth. "Men are so conceited that they had to make a whole word for treating women equal."

"Not all men simp. Plus, it's an AAVE and that people should not use it. In my defense, I've treated you like a guy my whole life," he shrugs. Lies. Lies. Lies he spews out endlessly because at one point, without him even knowing, things did change and he's seen you as a woman; as a woman he now has feelings for.

Hyunjin, to prove his point, hits you on his back like you've seen him do with all his teammates and your torso bends forward from your hips on impact. "See!" He stretches his arms, tattoos on display in the loose half sleeved black top he wears and you wince, stretching your hand back to rub only for Hyunjin to stop laughing quickly and rub your back, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Hyunjin," you shrug, mumbling, trying to guide your best friend. "Don't ever use the not all men tag, please."

He slaps a hand over his mouth, realising his error, again apologising and you stretch your hand forward quickly to protest, "No, no," you tell, "You don't have to apologise. I just hope you know how it sounds."

"I do," he falls back, lying down against your mattress. "I do and I hate that I accidentally said it."

You follow suit, and fall on the bed, hair splaying around, some falling on Hyunjin's face. He groans, moving the hair away and whining, "It got into my mouth, ew." You laugh.

Hyunjin speaks out, staring at the ceiling, "Whose fault is it that a relationship goes astray?"

"Still going to say the men," you look at the same spot he stares at. "They're—"

"It's a war."

"See!" You exclaim. "This is the issue with men. They cut us off all the time."

Hyunjin laughs, hand stretching out to hold your wrist to soothe you down and mumbling another apology, he continues, "This is a battle, Y/N; a battle that's aged long and has never come to a conclusion. The battle—"

"Get to the point."

"Look who cut me off now."

"Touché."

"Anyhow," he continues. "The battle between men and women."

"You definitely sounded like a prepubescent boy there," you look at Hyunjin. His skin is so clear, you notice, making a mental note to steal his skin care products later. He turns a second later to face you and he nods, "Don't care. Definitely going to win this."

"You wish," you let out a condescending laugh. "I'm going to beat your ass, Hyunjin."

"Kinky," he smiles that stupid, toothy grin of his, "I likey."

"You gross pubescent boy," you shove at his arms only for him to quickly hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours in the midst of the squabble. You let him, still laughing lightly, lungs light and mind free from all the sad thoughts.

"I see that I've got an upgrade."

"You did."

You're about to thank Hyunjin for this small gesture that probably seems to be nothing when his phone rings from the other room. The scary unexpected track to Tokyo Ghoul's opening – Unravel – that you can't help but accept that you've grown to like, plays.

He lets go of your hand and jolts upwards, jumping off the bed. A small whine leaves your lips unexpectedly and Hyunjin smiles at that. He pulls up the blankets over your body that he shifted, mumbling, "You should sleep early. You had a tough day."

"No," you whine yet again, "Let's talk more—" His phone rings louder, the scream part of the ringtone jolting you up and your hand falls on your chest in shock. "Hate when your phone does."

"And yet you sing along to it," he sings, humming the tune.

"Pfft," you scoff, holding onto the blanket, scrunching it in your grip. "Go. It's probably about the practise match against Yonsei University."

He hums in agreement, folding the blanket again carefully, right below your neck, his cold hands brushing against your clavicle and the temperature difference runs a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin switches off the light as he walks out, gently closing the door shut and you watch your best friend throwing a small smile at you before leaving. Did you really deserve all this care? Perhaps not.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, dashes out to get the phone before the caller cuts the call in frustration. He's definitely not spending the money to call back whoever it is. That shit is expensive. He jumps a couple of steps and grabs his phone, accepting the call before looking at the name of the caller.

"Hyunjin…" It's Lee Minho. "Can you come over?"

"I really want to throw a punch at you, you bastard."

And Hyunjin does. Virtually, of course. Over the game they are playing. He couldn't afford to injure a fellow teammate when the preliminaries are right around the corner.

"Bro," Minho sighs. "Can you go easy on me?"

His game character hits Minho's again, the energy bar of the other drastically going down on the screen. Hyunjin can't stop. The frustration that he has pent up over the last hour after seeing you cry and crumble over being dumped by his other friend drives him to the edge and he delivers another punch. Minho's character dramatically collapses as soon as the energy bar is empty and he drops the console by his side, pressing his back against the sofa, arms wrapped against his chest, pouting.

"I—"

"Go on," Hyunjin glares at him. "You better have a good explanation."

Minho runs a hand through his hair and sitting up straight, turning his torso to face Hyunjin, he tells, "I don't."

"You're lucky that we have a match soon, else you'd be six feet underground," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his hands over his head and folding it behind. "I can't believe you did that to Y/N."

"I fell out of love with her," Minho says. He doesn't dare to look at Hyunjin because he fears if the glares would actually result in him six feet underground. "Can't that be the only reason?"

Hyunjin chuckles, moreso at himself than at his friend, mumbling under his breath so low that Minho thinks it's just him humming, "Is it possible to fall out of love with her?"

He wishes Lee Minho could tell him how.

Hyunjin stands up, patting his denim jeans and looking at Minho, he warns, eyebrows furrowing, "I'll help her out with this. Just don't be a jerk and start dating in like two days."

"I—" Hyunjin glares at him. "Fine."

"Practice at seven," he adds and grabs the key of his motorcycle from the table before him. "Don't be late and act normal around Y/N."

"Fine, sir," Minho rolls his eyes. He won't admit it ever but the man warning him could be the reason for his breakup. That and his insecurity and fear of you cheating on him. But it's mostly Hwang Hyunjin. He knows how he feels even if you didn't.

Hyunjin walks out of Minho's house, closing the door on his way out and getting on his motorcycle, he rides back home to you. Just as he had promised you.

He opens the door to your room as soon as he enters his house, removing his shoes and placing it to the side, only to find his ears listening to the soft snores that let free from your lips. Carefully he walks towards you, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin lightly and tilting your head upwards to help you breathe properly.

He pauses for a minute just to watch you. Your eyebrows that you dislike so much just because according to you, it's not thick enough. He loves it however, even though you would never listen to him. Your eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on your high cheekbones and he gasps because you're so beautiful. You're so near to him and yet so far.

He bends forward, pushes your fringes to the side and places a soft kiss against your forehead, mumbling the words he wishes he could tell you straight up. Even if he did, you'd probably laugh and scoff at him.

"Beautiful girl," his lips graze the skin by your forehead, "You are a fighter. You have always been a fighter. You are stronger than you think. You are braver than you believe. Every challenge that life has thrown at you, you've conquered every obstacle that has been placed in front of you. You've overcome every single one of them. You are unstoppable and unbreakable and right now, you are filled with more faith than you have ever been."

Hyunjin pulls away, softly caressing the hair by the side of your face, "So please believe in yourself. You're worth so much love. So much of it, Y/N."

"The jerseys came!"

Bang Chan screams, a huge grin on his face as he opens the door for you. He runs to Felix and holds onto his shoulders before jumping up and down in joy. He is so delighted. "It looks so good, dude."

Hyunjin smiles, running towards you and helping you with the cardboard box. "It's alright," you mumble. "I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "And I'm your best friend. It's my job." He picks the huge box that covers your entire upper half, easily and places it down before the coach and the team.

Jisung rushes to your side, nudging you with his elbow, "We've got a pretty good manager." He bends down and rips open the box, taking his jersey in his hand, "Number 13, bitches. Nothing shows what an amazing libero I am like the number most feared." You laugh.

"Number 10 isn't that bad, I guess." You hear Minho's voice break through the cluster of voices and your movements still. You turn your head to look at the brown haired boy who towers over you, wearing a smile so pretty that your heart still skips a beat.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiles. "Thanks for bringing this over."

"Uh," you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze everywhere else besides at Minho. "I guess. It's my job, yeah."

Hyunjin notices. He always does. The boy runs towards you with his jersey. Number 1 printed in big behind. The setter brings the jersey so close to your face that it's buried in the fresh opened shirt. "Number 1, of course," he laughs, scrunching the shirt in his hand as he raises both his arms above.

"Oh, shut up, Jinnie," you laugh.

"Yeah, shut up, Jinnie," Jisung echoes. The middle blocker, though not the tallest in stature, is excellent at his position and has the biggest love-hate relationship with your best friend. He folds his arms and mocks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin places his right hand down on Jisung's head, ruffling his hair after pressing down on it. He scolds the older boy, "Don't call me Jinnie. Y/N's the only one who gets to call me that."

"Stop gathering around people," The captain claps his hands together to gather all of your attention. You quickly rush to his side and he smiles at you warmly, before looking at his team and glaring at each of them as they gather around him. "Yonsei University was kind enough to arrange a practice match with us thanks to—"

"Y/N," Jisung shouts, pivoting his arms by their sockets before lifting them both high above his head, cheering for you.

"Don't cut me off, Han," the coach shoots daggers at him, frowning visibly at the disobedience. "One more time and you're running around the gymnasium twenty times."

Jisung groans, only after winking at you. You chuckle under your breath, covering your face with the notepad in your hand. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, nudging Jisung to 'keep it in his pants' in the scariest voice ever. You could feel the dark clouds around Hyunjin, the aura darkening for a split minute before he breaks out into a huge smile as he looks at you.

The coach instructs out commands; strategies to help the team win against Yonsei. Moves that he's studied after watching their matches. You know this because you watched Hyunjin do the same at home. He does it at odd timings though.

You would wake up at three in the morning to grab a glass of water and you'd find your best friend squatting in front of the television as he watches every single one of Yonsei's matches. He wouldn't listen to you telling him to go to sleep because, "Being the captain is hard, Y/N. The whole team's banking on me to set the ball perfectly at the right time. I can't..."

And you understand. You understand the worries that go around in his head, the anxiety of being the best because he's no genius. He got to the top, made a name for him all thanks to his hard work and if he needs to keep it — he won't have it any other way — he swears to god that he would practise and study till he drops dead. Hwang Hyunjin loves volleyball that much.

So, you do what any friend would do.

You would make two cups of coffee, one for him and one for yourself. You sit next to him and watch the match with him. Your head lays back against the soft material of the sofa, just watching Hyunjin's eyes fixed on the screen, studying each movement of every player, gasping occasionally at how the setter of Yonsei's team leans his head back to decoy the opposite team only to dump the ball.

You don't remember much from that night because you fall asleep way too quick in the silence and in the presence of a focussed Hyunjin, your cup of coffee half empty. You don't remember anything from that night besides the fact that you woke up in your bed the next morning, or more like, Hyunjin waking you up the next morning because you overslept. Either ways, you were back in your bed and for that, you were grateful.

And as soon as the coach is done with the instructions, the team members scramble before splitting themselves into two groups, first to do serves and then perfect shots and finally, have a practice match.

You sit next to the coach, watching each and every member. That's what the previous manager told you to do. To observe. That's what the manager must do. To observe so well that you know each member well enough to know how their mind works, how their personalities are and who they truly want to be.

This is exactly why you can't seem to ever hate Lee Minho. Because you've seen him on the court, at his very best.

He's the best darn middle blocker you've ever seen. He doesn't tower that much over people with his height but when he jumps, lifting off his feet, he is as good as a wall cemented and strong before the opponent. He has only got better with every practice match and you realise that he wants to be better. And that's how he truly is. The constant urge to do better than the person he was before and perhaps, to Minho, you are someone he wants to leave behind in the past.

There's no one to blame here and you realise that it's a lot better if you accept the truth before it hurts you more than it should.

But then, in a second, Hyunjin takes your attention away whole heartedly. The boy arches his body so beautifully as he sets the ball for Jisung who slams the ball over the net with such force that leaves you gaping, notebook slamming your thigh. The coach stands up, his heels slamming the ground first before his toes do and he is as stunned as you are, eyes wide.

Funnily, Jisung's surprised too.

"We did it!" He says slowly, his words gradually making sense to him and when it does, he rushes to him, holding his shoulders and jumping ecstatically, "Hwang Hyunjin, we fucking did it!"

"When did you guys practice that?" The coach cuts the commotion short with his question. Hyunjin turns to face him along with Jisung, scratching the back of his head. Jisung is so overjoyed that he rushes to the coach, "Today morning! It sounded delusional but we pulled it off, coach."

You look at Hyunjin, who turns his attention back to you as soon as the coach is scrambling off to tell more instructions to Jisung on how he should time it a little bit earlier to hit it with even more impact. You smile, giving him a thumbs up and Hyunjin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you guys finally dating now that Minho's out of the picture?" Chan nudges Hyunjin. The man stumbles a step forward on impact only to quickly look at the older with eyes so wide that he wonders if it were possible.

"What?" He splutters the words out, voice haphazard after the cough.

"Everyone in the team thinks you guys should," Chan shrugs and Hyunjin's face morphs into that of seriousness almost instantly and shoots the other male with, "Did Minho hear of this?"

"Perhaps," Chan catches the ball Felix throws at him. The coach claps his hands to bring the attention back to him, barking out orders to resume the game. Chan pats Hyunjin's shoulders, "You know what we always tell, Hyunjin, in this sport—"

"Take the shot when you see the opportunity."

"Exactly."

"Or someone's going to block again," Chan sniggers and looks at Minho, who was trying his very best to avoid your gaze, "This time round, it could be someone better than our middle blocker."

You're picking up the volleyballs lying around when the guys go to shower and change, dribbling them slightly and smiling to yourself. A figure towers over you as they drop a ball into the huge bucket. You turn around to look up at Minho.

"Can we speak?"

"Do we have more to say?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"We can still be friends, Minho," you sigh, eyes closed. "I also won't be those annoying types to tell Hyunjin to stay away from you because you broke up with me. You should know better."

"I didn't mean that," Minho looks offended. "I wanted to apologise. I should have tried harder perhaps."

"You should have."

"I know," Minho sucks in his lower lip. "I really should have but you know—"

"Lee Minho," your voice is firm. "I've told you a gazillion times that Hyunjin and I are just friends, Minho. Somehow you made up this sort of weird thing in your head so don't drag me into this mess. This is yours."

Minho scoffs, "You're going to eat your words soon," and picks up another ball. You remember the task you had forgotten in the heat of the moment, rushing to pick up a ball to put it back. The rest of the team is slowly making their way outside.

"I doubt," you sigh, throwing the last ball into the bucket and dusting your hands together. Jisung's darting towards you, hands in the air. Minho moves to the side, gliding against the floor, making way for the shorter man to reach you, bubbling with such enthusiasm you wonder what the cause of it is.

"Felix is treating us!"

Ah, so that's the reason. You smile at Jisung, nodding your approval. You push the bucket to the side of the gymnasium with Minho's help and switch the lights off as the team exits the gymnasium.

"Lee Minho!" You hear a feminine voice through the air, your eyebrows quirking upwards automatically. Hyunjin walks to your side, sighing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket, mumbling so softly that you barely catch it, "I warned that asshole, God damn him."

Minho's face lights up in a way you haven't seen in a while and your heart is heavy. The woman, Irene — you hear Chan shout her name and wave at her — locks her arm with Minho's and walks with him, the man doing nothing to push her away. It shouldn't affect you. Not anymore now that the two of you have broken up and yet it hurts.

Hyunjin quickly pulls you away, preventing your eyes from lingering further even a minute more. His hand holds yours and he drags you to his motorcycle. You look down, biting the insides of your cheeks, alternating between the right and left every time you taste the copper of the blood.

"Your hand is so small," Hyunjin says. "Like look at how it fits into mine," he laughs, lifting your hand upwards as he clasps it tightly. He mumbles, "So small."

You break into a smile, watching Hyunjin tease you, momentarily drifting from the thought that upsets you and it leaves you wondering how Hyunjin does it all the time. He lets go of your hand, ruffling your hair as he bends lightly, "You've got this."

He quickly turns on the heels of his feet, pulling out the keys to his bike and igniting it. You hear Jisung scream from behind, "I thought you were taking me with you!"

Hyunjin screams back, "Carpool with the rest. I'm taking Y/N."

He lifts his leg, straddling the bike as he holds onto the handles, kicking the support free. He turns towards you and tells you to hop on and you do as he says. Your fingers hold his jacket, making sure you're not hugging him from behind. Minho's words run in your head and Hyunjin notices this small gesture of yours but he pays no heed. After all, it's been a while since he realised that what he has with you is better when it's platonic. He is too afraid to lose you.

"Jinnie," you tell him as he starts the motorbike, accelerating behind Jin who leads the way. You hear your best friend scream, "Yeah," through the loud winds that hit you.

You lean forward and speak closer into his ears, your jaw hitting his helmet, "Remember how I said the guys are to be blamed in a relationship."

"Yeah," he hints at you to proceed.

"Here's my first point. Minho back there," you point out. "It was that easy for a guy to move on. That easy," you stress your word. "While I'm here repenting if there was any way to get things back to where it was. However, there's no use in me trying because there's Minho with Irene like our relationship was a thing in the past."

"That doesn't mean he didn't care about you during the relationship. That's how guys are. They give it their everything when they're in the relationship," Hyunjin reasons and you laugh sardonically.

"You're kidding me, right? The girl definitely cares more. It almost seems so easy for the guys to break up and move on. Remember the time when you broke up with Lisa," you speak, raising your tone a little more so that Hyunjin can hear you. The motorcycle moving against the wind causes your hair to touch your mouth and you're spitting hair out facing the side. Hyunjin laughs, his grip on the accelerator tightening as he speeds up just a little bit, causing you to hold onto his jacket pockets a little tighter.

"Bro," Hyunjin mutters when you bring up Lisa. "I cried enough when she broke up with me, okay?"

"You did, for a day or two," you state. "The girl cried her heart out for a whole week. You went partying that Friday with Jisung!"

"Are we now using quantitative measurements to determine how deep our care and love is?" Hyunjin gasps, sounding very offended. "This reminds me why most relationships don't work. Because girls are shallow as fuck."

Hyunjin accelerates, missing sight of the speed breaker in front of him. It hurls you onto his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep you safe. A soft scream leaves your lips as the side of your face buries into his broad back.

"Sorry," Hyunjin apologises quickly. "Didn't see that!" Hyunjin prays that you don't move your arms away but you do and he sighs, face falling. He is glad that you can't see him. Your hand is back to gripping his jacket and head back in this battle of words you're currently having with your best friend.

"It's okay," you tell him. "What's not okay is how you think women are shallow."

"They are!" He takes a turn to the left. Your thigh muscles tighten as it straddles the seat, fingers digging into his side for support. "I mean, let's be real, sweetheart. You take an hour or more to get ready for college."

"Because I want to look presentable!" You hit his broad back and he chuckles.

"Lies! You're shallow!"

"Says the person who walks around shirtless at home and stares at the mirror, lightly touching your abs and saying perfect," you tease and Hyunjin turns to look at you for a minute with his eyes wide before he turns his attention back on the road.

"You saw that?"

"Of course. I see that every day."

"But you're watching the television, how?"

"Reflections," you state.

He's gasping. The motorcycle slows down as it reaches Pizza Alvolo. The pizzeria is adjacent to a pretty park and you can hear the birds chirp lowly right before the sun is ready to set. You jump off the motorcycle, dusting the denims covering your thighs and Hyunjin removes his helmet, hooking it to the handle securely.

The rest of the team are seated in the pizzeria already waiting for the two of you, waving at you as soon as you enter the place. You rush and sit next to Jisung who has been aggravatingly patting the seat next to him. Hyunjin sits opposite to you, next to Chan. He snatches the menu from him and the elder male whines at the behaviour.

You look around and notice that Minho hasn't reached the place yet. Not that it mattered to you. You will slowly learn to stop caring so much for a man and you will soon be able to look at him and think of only the fond memories and nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The minute you see Minho walk into the pizzeria, although not with Irene, you feel the ground slip underneath you. Jisung is nice enough — albeit not knowing of the whole pickle you are in — to hold your wrist and turn your attention towards the stack of pizza boxes that come your way as he gleams, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

You look away from Minho and toward the direction Jisung points before turning to look at Hyunjin who lets out a loud sigh. You know that he's clutching at his thick thighs, nails digging into it at the sight of your uncomfortability. Hyunjin knows it will take you days to get over this break up, maybe weeks and that as a good best friend, he should wait. He should understand.

But it frustrates him so much. The sight of you being in pain, in hurt because of another man — his other best friend at that — pisses him off way more than he thought it should at first.

Hyunjin quickly takes his phone out and you narrow your eyes at him, mouthing, "Rude. Put it back into your pocket." In a second, your phone dings and you take yours out. Minho sits by Jisung's side in that second, a seat away from you and your heartbeat accelerates. You unlock your phone to see a message from Hyunjin and you lift up your head, raising an eyebrow at him and he eyes at you to open the message.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. You don't respond immediately, locking the phone and shoving it back into your pocket. You smile at Hyunjin, trying to signal that you were alright so far. Jisung opens the cardboard boxes of the pizza and squeals. Chan looks at the situation, analysing if it'd be bad for the team on a bigger approach. Hyunjin might be the captain but had it not been for Chan's guidance, the volleyball team would not have lasted a day more with the differences.

Felix announces, "Eat to your heart's merry! I might never treat again." He takes the first bite for courtesy's sake before telling everyone to join in.

The team laughs and Minho smiles, the skin by his eyes wrinkling and your heart stops to remember all the reasons you were so madly in love with this man. It is at this minute you realise it'll take you maybe a little longer than you thought, a little longer than a casual fling and a little lesser than a long term relationship. You should have known this is bound to happen the minute you allowed yourself to let your petty emotions take over.

And maybe, just maybe, it is the fact that you have to pretend to be alright with having Minho around you that makes this heartbreak pain ten times worse.

Surprisingly, Hyunjin already seems to know because he doesn't stop glancing at you after every bite of the slice he has in his hand.

You stretch your arm out to take a slice of the pepperoni pizza on the table at the same time Minho stretches his arms out to take one. Your fingers brush against his and you jolt your hand backwards, mumbling, "Sorry."

Jisung laughs without knowing and teases, "Why would you apologise for brushing your boyfriend's hand?" He takes a bite of his pizza and as soon as he finishes chewing, he continues, "I mean, you guys do nastier stuff and suddenly, you all are prim and proper, Y/N. Love the contrast you exhibit. It's beautiful. You guys could be at it every time I catch you in the gymnasium alone. Also, you're his longest relationship. You should pride yourself—"

Jisung is speaking and you won't look up. Hyunjin has dropped the knife slightly just to try and get him to stop, though in vain and Minho's looking at you. His eyes won't leave your frame and you just want to leave. It is too early for you to be alright with this. Way too early.

"Stop, Jisung," Chan tells him, reading the situation in the room.

"Why?" Jisung's laughing. Felix understands by now, seeing your face hung down and so does the rest of the team besides the man himself. You can't even come to be angry at Jisung because he seems so innocent, unaware of it all.

You spill the beans for your own heart's safety, "Minho broke up with me."

Minho doesn't shift his eyes at anyone else and Hyunjin holds the knife again, a little too tight this time. Jisung's smile turns instantly into a frown and he turns his head to glare at your now ex-boyfriend.

He doesn't bother to filter his words. "Why the fuck did you do that, you arsehole?" Minho turns to look at Jisung for a split second before his eyes are back at yours. You lift your head to lock gaze with him and you feel your chest tighten, eyes water and it hurts.

Everything seems so much more painful.

Chan says once again, his voice firm, ready to not listen to one more word of the conversation, "Stop it, Jisung. Read the room."

You stretch your arm out to have another bite of the pizza and everyone eats in silence. The room is pregnant with the most awkward silence you had been in your whole life. You take your phone out, unlocking it and finally replying to the message.

Jisung puts another slice of pizza onto your plate and you smile at him. Felix tries breaking the uneasy tension by talking about this dude he met in his neighborhood that was kind of cute. After sitting for another two minutes, you push your chair back to Jisung's surprise and stand up. Hyunjin stands up instinctively, his calves pushing his chair back and everyone at the table looks at the two of you.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

"I just realised I have to do some grocery shopping," you laugh nervously. "There's absolutely nothing back at home. Not that Hyunjin would buy anything and keep, right?"

Hyunjin chuckles and everyone in the room knows quite obviously that you are trying to escape the scene. They are kind enough to let you. Felix asks, spilling the oregano seasonings on top of his pizza slice, "Is Hyunjin going with you?"

"Ye—"

"No," you cut your best friend before he can give his approval. "I'll go alone." You stretch your arm out, palm facing upwards, "Keys, please?"

"Don't hurt my baby," Hyunjin's sincerity is voiced and you laugh genuinely. Little did you know he meant both you and his motorbike. He drops the key to his motorbike onto your hand and you do a little cheer. Jisung mumbles, "Cute," before stuffing his face with pizzas.

"Have a good time, guys," you wish them and grab your bag, hanging on the chair. Jisung waves enthusiastically. Felix, Chan and the rest of the team waves too. You smile fondly at your team and walk towards the door only to find Hyunjin following you.

"What do you think you are doing right now, mister?"

"Can't I walk you out at the very least, woman?" Hyunjin gapes in dismay. He pulls open the glass door and you laugh.

"Sure thing," you say and walk towards his motorbike. Hyunjin leaves the door after stepping out, the glass door swinging back to shut itself. You swing your legs over his bike, straddling the automobile and dropping your chest slightly to balance the heavy vehicle.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't you trust your teaching? You taught me how to ride this thing. Don't worry."

You look over Hyunjin's shoulder to see Minho still looking at you, worry smeared all over his face and you feel your throat constricting again as you do your best to tear your eyes away from him.

Hyunjin takes a step closer, making sure everything's alright with the vehicle so that it doesn't endanger you. He places his hand over your wrist and you look at him in confusion, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," you laugh. "What are you? My daddy?"

Hyunjin stiffens for a minute before he lets go of all the inappropriate thoughts that fill him for a minute there before teasing you, "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"Nah," you throw your head back. "You aren't that rich enough." You place the helmet over your head and look at him. Hyunjin taps your helmet and hugs you slightly.

"I'll see you at home."

You start the bike on ignition and look over Hyunjin's shoulder one last time to look at Minho, locking gazes with him before you pull yours away from him towards Hyunjin.

You look ahead, the clear road in front of you and turn the accelerator only after telling Hyunjin, giggling slightly,

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Hyunjin, on the other hand, is too caught up in his worry, eyes lingering behind the trailing presence of yours that finally disappears from his sight into a speck that fades away. In any other circumstances, he would have found your petite figure driving the huge motorcycle and you even calling him daddy, although in a teasing tone, insanely hot.

Right now, however, he just hopes you are safe. He wishes he could be by your side at every second.

Gaho's Stay Here blasts on the bluetooth speaker. Hyunjin pulls open the door only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with the most emotionless face he has ever seen you with. His eyes dart towards the empty bottles of soju on the small table in the hall.

"Y/N?"

You sit up, looking at your best friend and your lip pucker out quickly pouting at the sight of him and you stretch your arms out wide, squealing, "Hyunjinnie. You are home."

Hyunjin walks towards you, plopping on the couch and sitting next to you. He quickly lifts his arm up, hand darting back and forth at the air to steer the smell away as he frowns at you, "You reek of liquor, dude."

You quickly hug him, wrapping your arms around his frame from the side and snuggling your face into his shoulder. Hyunjin stiffens under your grip and he looks down at your being with eyes closed and he realises that you might after all just be a small being in need of some loving. He wishes to be the person to do that. Hwang Hyunjin utterly and truly wants to be your person.

Hyunjin takes your phone to stop playing the music — Stay Here that's been currently playing on repeat for the twentieth time straight — and you whine against his skin, tickles running down Hyunjin's spine.

"Don't stop the music," you mumble and Hyunjin looks at you and your figure that hugs him securely, head snuggled by his neck, chin digging into the skin by his collarbone and all Hyunjin can focus on is his heart that is beating furiously against his chest.

"Y/N," Hyunjin's voice seems like an anchor to your woozy mind and you hug him tighter, gripping stronger on to his white shirt. You hum in response and Hyunjin continues, "Gaho's music doesn't seem very fitting for the minute."

You pull apart, your face morphing and changing into that of offense as you glare at him, mumbling, "Gaho is the only one that understands me." You play the music again, the bluetooth speakers blasting with the sad slow tune in the air and you feel the want to cry all over again.

You stretch your arm out to take a soju bottle from the table to down it all out when Hyunjin stretches out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He locks his eyes with yours and in the softest, most caring voice you've ever heard from him, he says, "Don't, Y/N. It hurts me too."

"Can I hold you?"

In a split moment, the room is filled with just the soft beats of Gaho's Start Over playing, your raspy breaths and Hyunjin's lost stare. His grip on your wrist tightens and your mind is far too intoxicated to think if this friendship could be ruined. Your heart is heavy, chest tight and you want someone to free you. Anyone. You are clawing at the imaginary wall all by yourself and anyone could be a help. Anyone that is not Lee Minho.

"Yes," and you fall on Hyunjin at the exact same moment he pulls your hand closer towards him. The timing seems to have lapsed on to each other. Your chest on Hyunjin's, eyes looking up at him as your arms snake slowly over his torso. You snuggle forward, rubbing against his body slightly and Hyunjin sighs.

To Hyunjin, the scene is a lot dramatic just because of the soft music playing and because you are drunk off your head according to him, barely able to make decisions. He just doesn't want to do anything that will make either of your friendships but right now, in this minute with you almost on top of him, locking your eyes in his, your arms around his torso, close enough to feel every part of your being, he wants to be drunk too.

Hyunjin wants to be drunk so that he can make a mistake. Hyunjin wants to be so drunk that he can't think just because he is a coward.

"Do you feel better?" He asks and you snuggle into his chest, burying your face into it as you hold him. Your lonely heart being comforted by just his presence and in the back of your drunk head, you know you feel a little bit more that causes your heart to flutter when Hyunjin cares.

You and Hyunjin are both cowards — two small people in this big world with big emotions unwilling to risk one status for another, over the fear of losing each other.

But Hyunjin wants to risk it tonight. After years of pining, he wants to risk this golden friendship he has shared with you for years now. You are the trigger, however. You lift your face away from his chest and crawl slightly towards him, pushing yourself against him. You look at him, lips pressed together and you stretch your right arm upwards to hold his face in your hand.

"Jinnie," your voice lets out his name in such an airy tone that it seems to disappear away even before it reaches his ear. His eyes are glassy and his heart is in his throat, eager in nothing but anticipation that is risen from all his hoping.

It happens as he has imagined. You lean forward so slowly that he pictures every second vividly and in an instant, your lips are on his. Hyunjin knows it should have felt wrong but God, save him — nothing felt more right than this.

You kiss him and his whole world falls away. It lingers, like a memory that stays behind. Your lips are slow and soft against him, comforting yourself and him in ways that words would never be. Hyunjin's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss. Something so small and insignificant to seemingly anyone else yet it means the whole world to Hyunjin. It is the whole world to Hyunjin because this is all that is needed to let him astray, hinge released of the stupid restrictions he has made up in his head over you.

Your small kiss is all Hyunjin needs to hold on to because in the next minute, he is pulling you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your coral ones. You let out a small gasp and run your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute.

Hyunjin's lips are slammed against yours, nearly knocking all wind from your lungs and you don't know if it is your feelings or Hyunjin himself. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth. Hyunjin kisses you like he thinks it is the last time he will ever be able to have his lips against yours.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant, you pull away and arch up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against your own, before you draw back into his lips. Hyunjin can feel the burn of hard soju in his mouth, thanks to you, and it rolls off your tongue into his, seeping down his throat and he can't hate it. There is a thrill in its own that Hyunjin knows stems from you.

If it was possible, Hyunjin would slow down time.

You pull back eventually only to hug him, humming against his neck, lips pressed against the soft expanse of his skin. Hyunjin's hand is pressed against your back as he pats you in a steady rhythm, instinctively humming to a tune that could calm you.

"Jinnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," and he feels your weight fall on to his shoulder as you snuggle closer into his neck, your warm breath fanning against him, sending shivers down his spine. "For everything."

Hyunjin holds you for a while, silence and nothing but your breathing that is soft music to his ears, till he hears your soft snores buzzing against his eardrums and he knows you have fallen asleep in his arms, against his chest.

The next morning, you find yourself magically in your bed, comforter on top of you covering every inch of you, head aching thanks to your reckless drinking last night with no memory of whatsoever that happened. Lightheaded you should have known better.

Hyunjin chooses to be a coward, the morning after.

The greens that cover the campus is the only other thing that keeps you sane in this university. The first being, the volleyball team. However, you don't know anymore if it is still, in the present.

You sit on the same bench before a beautiful fountain with a tiger head right in the centre, watching the vast basketball court. A place that holds way more memories to you now than it did a year before.

You shake your legs, feet pointing forward as you listen to music with about half an hour in your hand to waste before you head down towards the gymnasium to meet with the volleyball team. Besides few people that walk down towards their classes, the campus looks pretty stranded as you watch every single person stay happy in their sphere.

"Y/N," you hear your name being called out through yet another one of Gaho's songs and you lift your head up, to look at the person by your side, standing and providing you the shade they probably didn't intend to.

It's the man himself, the one who broke your heart for an explanation that made no sense to you. Lee Minho.

He stands tall, towering over you and your neck aches from looking up at him that you decide to stand up, removing the earbuds and placing it on the wooden bench, next to your phone.

"You're here." You gulp. "Aren't you supposed to be headed to the gym for practice?"

The fountain is everything you associate Minho with — moreover, it is perhaps the relationship with him that you associated the beautiful water fountain with. To see the very same man before you right now is needless to say surprising.

"I could ask you the same thing," Minho chuckles. He takes out a small cone of butterscotch ice cream and extends his arm, offering it to you. You smile softly, thanking him, sitting down back on the bench. "Can I sit here?" He asks and you nod, unwrapping the wrapping paper around the ice cream.

"Yeah," you tap on the seat by your side. You take a bite of your ice cream and Minho visibly flinches, mumbling, "Still the same."

"You broke up with me like two days back. What did you expect? A nirvana attained me?" You scoff. You take another bite of the ice cream, the sensitivity hitting your teeth and you hiss.

"Brutal," Minho chuckles darkly. You scoff, turning your head away and taking another bite of your ice cream. Minho opens his ice cream and you raise an eyebrow at him, mumbling, "You don't eat ice cream though."

"Thought you might want another one," he smiles and the thought of a second ice cream lights you up. "There you go smiling like a dork as always at the thought of it." Minho laughs and you bend forward to take it, your left arm stretching forward. Minho tugs it backwards and your body moves a little more to grab at it until it's too far for you, bringing you to your present position.

Your hand is on Minho's chest, his eyes locked in yours and you are surprised. This is not in your to do list and yet with Minho's grip on your wrist, you drop your ice cream as soon as he edges closer. His face is so close that you can see the perfect plump lips pout slightly, his face glistening in the bright sun and you gasp softly. It has been a while since he has been this close and he still makes your heart go livid within you, beating crazy.

He drops his ice cream in a second, his hands pressing forward to cup your face and pull you into him to kiss the living hell out of you. Your eyes widen, arms falling limp on either side as you stiffen.

"Can I try something?" He hesitates, iron grip on you.

"Try?" You look worried and the next minute, Minho is kissing you, his plump lips on yours for a while before he moves them against yours, taking hold of your lower lip.

It is an instinct. You choose to blame it rather on instincts. Your hand moves to grab the linen draping his arm as you hold it and kiss Minho back. It is as bitter as coffee thanks to all the memories that go along with it and yet — you find yourself drowning. You find yourself wanting more. You find yourself hoping if Minho could stay, if Minho could just pretend to love you, if not.

And it breaks your heart.

All over again.

A lone tear leaves your eyes and then another, till you are crying as you kiss him. A wet messy affair at its finest. Minho pulls back in surprise feeling the wetness against his skin. He cups your face and holds you, looking at you to check for damage — little does he know of the emotional one. Or maybe he does and he chooses to ignore. Typical Lee Minho.

"Did I hurt you?"

Your emotions take over, sanity pushed to the back. You are pulling yourself from Minho as he tries to hold you to calm you down. Your fist plummets down onto his hard chest once and then, for the second time till you are hitting him over and over again till you completely break down in front of him. Minho quickly pulls you into a hug, holding you close till you completely soak his white shirt with your tears.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" It's a repeated chant. Over and over again till you don't remember how many times you told Minho the same thing. Your mind goes insane with the overdrive of emotions. Did you like Minho still? You don't know. You don't know whether it's the familiarity of his hugs or his kisses or his whole presence that you crave or if it's his love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and you accept because it's the first time an apology from Lee Minho sounded this sincere. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart." He snuggles into the crook of your neck, swallowed by guilt. Perhaps this is why one should never date their friends; because you lose something much greater.

"I hate you more now for kissing me here," you manage to say, throat rasp from the crying. "How could you stain this memory too? How dare you stain the memory of the location of our first kiss? It was supposed to be a bittersweet memory when I sit here and think." Minho is still hugging you.

"I'm sorry."

It is still bittersweet in a new way, you realise — the fact that Lee Minho kisses you for the last time, you swear to God, in the very same place he kissed you for the first time. The weather changed, the people around changed and the emotions changed. Even after all that, the fountain stays proud and mighty and bears witness to more new relationships and new heartbreaks. Nothing changes besides you. Nothing changes besides what we want.

You pull away from him. Sitting straight, facing the vast basketball court and the juniors playing the game, you make a decision, firm and determined. The soft pink petals fall down from the cherry blossom trees over the two of you and Minho looks at you, and then at the spilled ice cream. To see the boughs that were so bereft in the snow become so beautifully adorned should lift your spirits infinitely and it does slightly. Their scents diffuse in the warming breeze and you hold your head high to savour it.

"Let's stay away from each other for a while."

Minho's eyes shoot up, head lifting up to face you. He does not refute. After all, he knows he has to take a step behind after breaking your heart. What he does not understand is how the two of you could stay away from each other when your friend circles overlap to a large extent.

"How?" He finally asks. "How do I help you with that?"

"By doing just that. Give me space and time to get over you. I'll come back asking for your hand in friendship again," you smile. Your tear stained visage and the difficult smile you put forth is a funny combination but you manage to pull it off well, you'd say. "You don't have to take the first step this time. Let me do this on my own, Minho."

You stand up on your own, grabbing your earphones and your phone. Minho stands up, following suit and asks, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," you turn only to look at him as you walk backwards. "And you have to head for practice. So get going. I won't have you mess up your performance by all means." You turn back and move ahead. From everything.

"You know I wouldn't," Minho screams back and the last syllable ends with a laugh. You lift your hand to wave and you leave, far, far away from him.

You now have an open wound to stitch back and you know you have to do it on your own.

Hyunjin's phone rings right when he decides to serve the ball. He drops the ball in surprise, the sphere rolling all the way to where his phone is placed. Chan groans, stopping his pace at the sound of the phone ringing, and yells, "Yah! Hyunjin, how many times should I tell you to switch off your phone?"

Felix walks in exactly at that minute, laughing, "Anyone from outside would totally think Chan's the captain!"

Hyunjin runs to his phone, his blond hair strands falling forward, ponytail swinging left and right. Felix laughs at the sight, walking towards the ball and picking it up before throwing it at Chan who catches it swiftly. Hyunjin sees your name on the phone, eyes lighting up instantly and a smile prominent only for Chan to announce, "It's Y/N."

"Of course, it is," Felix scoffs. "Where's the rest of the guys? I thought you said we were to come early—" Felix pauses, eyes widening and gasping, "Hold up! Y/N is late. Whoa!"

"They are probably running towards the gym right now," Hyunjin says before picking up the call. He mouths to the rest, "It'll be short, I promise," and pouts. Chan sighs, only to smile and wave his hand at him to take the call.

"Y/N," Hyunjin cheers up instantly. "Where are—" He hears a choked sob from the other hand and Hyunjin stiffens, face losing the smiling in a second. "Are you alright?"

"I am," you strain it out. You barely manage through with the chokes and that pain that ripples through in waves but you eventually find the words to tell him, "I won't make it to practice today. Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

Hyunjin is angry and he doesn't even know who it is aimed at. He is just beyond mad at the fact that you are crying and someone made you cry. The thought of the skin by your eyes aching and eyes red and burning over anyone made him so angry that he could punch a wall through.

"I'm not telling you," he hears you say and he clenches his fist.

"Stop being a brat, Y/N," he stresses and Chan gestures at him, asking if there was something wrong. Hyunjin nods. "Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, Jinnie," you tell him through the phone, "Please," and his eyes widen before he calms himself down, realising that you are trying to cope all alone, a pathetic self-destructive quirk of yours that he had learned to live with after all these years. He gulps and realises you truly needed time alone and he hums in approval.

"Please reach out to me when you need me," he begs. "Please, Y/N."

Felix and Chan are staring at Hyunjin in worry when the door to the gymnasium opens and Jisung rushes into the room. He is panting and he looks around, searching for someone. Hyunjin turns away, his attention back on the call in his hands and he ends the call quickly, making a note in his mind to check up on you after practise. Not that you would let him miss practise. (Not that Hyunjin would do it to himself in the first place. He'd kill for volleyball.)

He walks towards the rest when Minho walks in, black duffel bag on his shoulder. Jisung is quick on his feet as he runs towards the other man, hands on his shoulders and he shakes the living hell out of him.

"He's gone crazy, dude," Felix mumbles and Chan laughs.

Hyunjin stays at a comfortable distance still, looking at his phone in worry every now and then. The man lifts his head and brings his attention back to the present only when he hears your name leave Jisung's mouth.

"Whoa, dude. You got back together with Y/N?"

"What?" Chan is the first to respond. "You did what?"

"I didn't get back together with her," Minho says, his voice is monotone and lacks anything more than nonchalance and it pisses the hell out of Hyunjin who has his fists still clenched tightly.

"I saw you kissing her but. . ." Jisung drops the bomb all at once in such a lost way that he doesn't realise the impact it was to have in this large gymnasium.

Hyunjin is charging forwards all at once, yelling, "You bastard," as he throws a punch at Minho. The blond dyed man is quick to put two and two together and realise that you are after all, crying because of the black haired man before him.

He pushes him back, Minho hitting the floor and Hyunjin's on top of him, punching him with his clenched fist, mind void and painted in hot red anger. Minho has his arms, blocking his punches and chooses to play on the defensive side.

In fear, we are all monsters. Hyunjin believes that he would be afraid of himself had he astral projected and looked at himself in this minute, all unhinged because of one girl — one girl he would set the world on fire for.

All that rage comes out faster than magma for Hyunjin and is just as destructive. More so because he's the captain. It consumes all that he is, so delicate under that carefully ordered world and carefully put up feign that he is alright with Minho breaking the heart of the girl he loves. Minho shrivels before him but Hyunjin does not stop. He relentlessly keeps going, stopping short of physical violence but doing far more damage with the words that he throws.

Chan tries to pull Hyunjin away as Jisung drags Minho from underneath him. The black haired man is left with bruises and a busted lip. On the other hand, Hyunjin is still fuming, along with Chan, sporting a few cuts from Minho who decided to throw a few punches in the last moment.

"Can you all stop?" Felix sighs.

"Why would you bastard make her cry again?" Hyunjin raises his voice. He's yelling at this point, loud enough for everyone passing by the gymnasium to hear. "Why the fuck would you make Y/N cry again? I told you to leave her alone!"

"This wouldn't have happened if things went different—" Hyunjin tries to rush forward to hit him again upon hearing his words, but Chan and Changbin, another teammate, have a strong grip on him. His blond ponytail lashes in anger and he fights against the two, trying to let go of himself. Minho yells back, "I would have never broken up with her if you never liked her, Hyunjin."

"What?" He stops still in his tracks, limbs falling and Chan lets go.

"How am I supposed to think it's alright for you to randomly stare at my girlfriend with heart eyes? For fuck's sake, you guys hug way more than I hug her," Minho glares, chest rising up as he vents everything he has bottled up so far. "If you had always liked her, you should have told me! I shouldn't have overheard it from Chan telling you to ask her out." Chan's face pales visibly. "I would have tried making her stay. I would have made her stay. I would have," Minho's voice lowers. "I still did, but I was too late."

Hyunjin has no words to refute. His eyes widen and his heart is in his throat, barely being able to say, "You could have taken it out on me. Why would you drag her into this? She loved you. She still wavers because of you. Your faithless love was the only hoax she was forced to believe."

Jisung pouts in awe at the words Hyunjin spills and Minho mumbles, "I don't know. I couldn't think straight."

Felix drops the ball with force, suddenly. The ball squelches before raising high and hitting the wall with impact. He folds his arms and speaks up, "Stop acting like kids." He points at Minho. "You, stop putting the blame of your failed relationship on Hyunjin. Him liking Y/N did not ruin your relationship. You killed it yourself."

"But he—"

"I liked her even before you made a move on her. Nothing has changed, Minho," Hyunjin inhales sharply.

"It's because you're a coward, you arsehole."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, looking away, mumbling, "Not going to even bother denying that. I'd be dating her if I wasn't this scared of losing her."

Felix proceeds to point at Hyunjin, glaring sharply at him, "You call yourself a captain? We have a match in a few days and you decide to lose control and beat up your teammate? One of the best middle blockers out there! What in the world are you thinking, Hyunjin? Jesus Christ, when Y/N hears of this, she's going to beat you up so bad for doing this to him in the name of the team."

Hyunjin doesn't dare to look up at Felix, shuffling the balance of his body from one feet to another. He is embarrassed. He should have never let his emotions take control of his body and yet he did.

Chan walks towards Felix before announcing, "We'll start practice in five. I want the two of you to sort this out by the end of this day. If you haven't, I don't want either of you coming to practice tomorrow."

"I'm the setter!" Hyunjin protests.

"Jeongin can do a darn good job too, so shut up and listen to me well."

"Now," Felix claps his hand, smiling once again brightly before running to pick up the ball. "Let's practice like the perfect team we are!"

"And like I couldn't stop myself. It's like something dragged me to move forward and the next thing I knew, I was on top of Minho—"

"Fuck, that'd be hot."

"Y/N, focus. And like I was beating the crap out of him."

You dab an alcoholic swab over the small wounds on his face as he seethes in pain and you sneer, "Deserved it."

"Ouch," Hyunjin fakes offense. "Side with me at least now. You aren't dating him anymore." You stop, your hand midair and you dab constantly over his wounds till Hyunjins screaming, "Ow, ow, ow. I'm sorry," and holds your wrist and pulls it away.

"But you messed up your team dynamics just because of your anger," you frown. "You and Minho better sort it out quickly, Jinnie. Else, I swear to God." You glare at him.

"What will you do?" Hyunjin laughs, scrunching his nose and teasing you. You place the bandaids over the wounds and raise an eyebrow. Hyunjin prompts, "Bite me?"

"I will," you warn and Hyunjin scoffs, "As if."

You bite him. His shoulder, to be exact. Your teeth hold onto his socket for a good one minute tightly till he is yelping, hitting your back to let go of him as he hisses in pain. You let go of him and narrow your eyes at him. Hyunjin is shocked. So shocked that he blankly stares at you with his mouth wide open.

"Are you a dog?"

"I could be one if you taunt me too much."

"Wow," he blinks and you poke the insides of your cheek with your tongue. "Wow, you're truly one of a kind." And Hyunjin breaks down laughing, holding his shoulder with his hand and bending forward overcome by intense laughter.

"Buy me mint choco," he prompts. "Because now you injured me and I want compensation."

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin pushes himself forward, edging closer to you, looking you in your eyes before saying, "You know you have to," in a low guttural tone that your heart does a whole somersault, triple axle and then lands with an ovation. "You hurt me."

You push him away and you leap onto your feet, your eyes wide and your hand over your chest. Hyunjin looks at you with a raised eyebrow. To change the mood of the situation, you quickly announce, "Fine. You'll get mint chocolate only if you get ready and come out in five minutes. Else you pay for it on your own."

Hyunjin stands up and holding your wrist, he pulls you with him to the door. You look at him in utter confusion and ask, "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, blond strands leaving his ponytail to cover his eyes slightly and pink lips so plump that you wonder how they feel. The realisation that you have started viewing your best friend as someone more than just that hits you and you look down instantly. When did this happen?

"I'll just wear a coat and so should you," Hyunjin laughs. "Ice cream can't wait."

People think of laughing as a noise that comes from the mouth more often than not, but when Hyunjin laughed it was nothing like that. The laugh is in his eyes, in the way his face changes into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. And yet, in all honesty, it is not in his face either. His laugh comes from within, it is just the way he is wired with the instant ability to comfort someone. Just the sound of his gales, his snickers, his giggles, was enough to transport you far away from all your worries and the tension your life has in the minute.

Enough to make you forget that you have to tell him today about the decision you have taken.

Hyunjin and you walk down the stairs and off onto the road in five minutes as planned. The cool air of the night hits you and you hold yourself closer, the long coat held tightly to your body surface. Hyunjin laughs before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close by just a little bit and yet enough to share his body warmth.

"Mint choco, here we come!" And he runs with you.

The thing with your stupid heart is that you don't understand why it is beating so rapidly in this moment, your heart beat easily jumping to more than 95bpm and all because Hyunjin holds you. You look at the man by your side, his blond hair moving with the air, exposing his face and you wonder — had Hwang Hyunjin always been this beautiful?

You have known Hyunjin for a long time now. Too long for you to realise that your heart had a change in its plans for emotions recently. You have known Hyunjin way too long to know that you want him for a lifetime by your side, as a best friend at the very least and the thought that if you did act upon your new emotions that you have just discovered in this cold, breezy night, you are screwed.

Hyunjin turns to look back at you after hearing absolutely no sound from you. His face pales when he realises you are looking far ahead and he wonders if you do remember now. If you remember the drunk night.

So he asks to put himself at ease, "Y/N?"

"Huh?" You jolt up to consciousness, looking properly at Hyunjin. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember the night a few days back?"

"Night? Few days back?" You ponder. "When I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin mumbles and you raise your body in anticipation, finally wanting to ask about the magical teleportation.

"Now that we are on this topic," you fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at your best friend. Hyunjin shuffles his balance from his left to his right. "Did you carry me to bed that night?"

Hyunjin chokes on air, sputtering out incoherent words before finally forming one proper sentence, "You knew?"

"You're the only other person I live with and I don't have any recollection of going to bed so like I presumed," you look down, heat rising to your cheek and you fidget with your fingers. "That you carried me to bed."

"That's all that you remember?"

You lift your head up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, "Is there more?"

"Uh," Hyunjin turns back to face forward, his broad back in your vision again as he walks forward to the ice cream parlour by the junction.

"Hyunjin?" He walks quicker. "Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" You follow him with quick, short strides, almost jogging up to him. "What did I do, Jinnie?" He opens the glass door to the ice cream parlour. "Yah, Hwang Hyunjin, tell me no matter how embarrassing it is." You follow him into the white aesthetically pretty place.

You finally catch hold of his coat and tug at it. Hyunjin turns, his cheeks flushed and you wonder what in the world happened that night. Yes, you have vague memories of hugging Hyunjin and passing out, but for him to act like this — wait, you didn't empty your stomach out on him, did you?

"Did I—" Hyunjin's eyes widens. He turns back, his attention on the man behind the counter and he points towards you.

"She's paying."

"Okay," the man nods and turns to look at you, waiting for your order. You sigh, glaring at your best friend before ordering one quantity of mint chocolate ice cream. Your eyes waver to the green ice cream and you frown in displeasure, something Hyunjin catches sight of your expression.

"How dare you?" He folds his arms, dramatically. "The only people that matter in this world are the one that like mint chocolate." The man at the counter smiles at the two of you.

You open your mouth, clicking your tongue, "I'm not paying money to eat toothpaste."

The man behind the counter laughs out loud and Hyunjin glares at him, scoffing. He takes the ice cream from his hand and waits for you to pay. The tall man looks at the two of you, again, before finally telling, "Good luck on your relationship. It's always fun to see couples have an argument over mint chocolate and still be so in love with each other." He turns to look at Hyunjin only, "For your information, I like mint chocolate."

Both Hyunjin and you look at each other, either of you waiting for the other person to disagree with the man but there is just silence. You can feel Hyunjin looking at you through the corners, waiting for you to refute like you always do. You don't and you do not even know why. The heat builds up beneath the apples of your cheek and the thought of being in a relationship with your best friend strangely brings about a wave of calmness within you, doing its best to shove the uncertainty of so many things away.

"Thank you for the ice cream," you say and walk to an empty table. Hyunjin thanks the man too, and follows you, sitting on the seat opposite to you and places the mint chocolate in between.

He watches you, unsure of the situation and you bite your lower lip nervously before shoving the cup closer to him and mumbling, "Eat. We came all the way here for you."

"You should have gotten another ice cream," Hyunjin frowns.

"It's past nine," you laugh, your hair falling over the chair as you lean back. "I can't let fat into my body after nine. You know that."

"Why do I know you?" Hyunjin puts his hand on his forehead looking at you and then he pushes the cup of ice cream towards your side. "Disappointment." You look at your best friend, disgusted and he won't take the disrespect though.

"It's a refreshing taste," he digs in and takes a big bite. "Plus, it's the right balance." He lifts the spoon with a small amount of the mint ice cream and shoves it right in front of your face. "The perfect amount of mint, chocolate and milk to make the world's most perfect ice cream."

You push his hand away and glare, "Why would you ruin two beautiful sweets," you raise an eyebrow, "Chocolate and ice cream by including," you fake a gag, "Mint?"

"Because mint balances the sweetness of the chocolate," he scoffs. "All you mediocre people won't understand. Mint chocolate was created for the elite class."

"Did you just call me mediocre?" your jaw drops and Hyunjin laughs. It's soft, airy and so carefree that you don't mind the fact that he is laughing at you and not with you. You don't mind one bit when you break down and laugh with him, unable to keep your face straight as you lean forward on the table, your head resting on your hands and you watch Hyunjin.

You decide to tell him of your decision in this minute.

"I'm going to make Seungmin manage the team," you tell Hyunjin and he stares at you, the spoon dropping from his hand and clattering against the glass rim of the ice cream cup. You continue, "He's always wanted to manage the volleyball team and I thought I should let him—"

"Why?" He sounds hurt. Disappointed, in fact and your heart plummets down.

"I thought it's time to move on."

"From the team or Minho?"

"Minho," you say, nibbling on your lower teeth. "I want to go back to him—"

"What?" Hyunjin feels his heart sink.

"Don't cut me off, hoe," you click your tongue. "I want to go back to him and be his friend. I'm not ready to ruin a friendship over this. I just won't."

Hyunjin looks down at his cup of ice cream. His spoon digs into the cold dessert over and over again till he realises that he'll do what he has always done for you — be right by your side as your pillar.

"Feed me," Hyunjin prompts and you stare at him with a void expression, mouth still open, wondering if he suggested this only and only to change the topic. Hyunjin stretches his arm out to shut your mouth. "People are going to think I'm starving you here."

"Whoa." You lift your head up. "And if I do that, people are going to think we're possibly the cutest couple out there still in our glorious honeymoon phase of it."

"Okay," Hyunjin shrugs and leans back against the chair, folding his arms against each other.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

You sit up straight and look down before finally saying, "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Those words that make my heart flutter. I don't know what to feel, Hyunjin." Hyunjin is too stunned to react and whine over the fact that you called him properly by his name in your conversation. The fact that he too can cause your heart to race a little bit just like you have with his all these years. "Don't say them to me if you won't ever be ready to take responsibility over them."

You place your thumb and forefinger on your forehead, squeezing the skin slightly to calm the slight ache you can feel, the vein throbbing slightly and you know it is your anxiety that kicks in because you almost spilled everything out. You quickly stand up and holding your coat tightly, you look at Hyunjin who is still seated and looking at you intently.

"I need to go to the pharmacy next door. I'll wait for you there. Finish your ice cream and come."

You don't turn to look at Hyunjin as you walk out, slightly embarrassed by your own behaviour. Between you and Hyunjin, you are the one who had to keep your cool, making sure you didn't slip up or make a mess so that you could at least have time to clean his spilt milk.

You push the door of the ice cream parlour and walk out, the doorbell ringing at your push and you hold yourself in the cold breeze. If Hyunjin did not respond to it, it is only safe to presume that he feels nothing more towards you. You could at least put two and two together. Or so you thought till Hyunjin is chasing after you, big strides and dark blond hair in the wind as his rubber band comes loose and slides off a bit.

"Y/N!" He shouts and quickly holds your wrist, pulling you so quickly that you stumble forward into him. Hyunjin grips your arms to steady you and he looks at you, his brown eyes trying to peep into your soul. He smiles, hand running through his hair only to bring more strands forward, covering his vision.

Falling in love with Hwang Hyunjin, you realise, is the easy part. He makes it so easy to fall for him — when he smiles at the sun, covering his eyes or when he is covered by the dogs in dog parks all eager to hug him because that's how he just is. You don't even realise when you fall for Hyunjin but when you do, you know you are already sinking and you are far too gone for saving.

It is, however, admitting to yourself that you fell for your best friend that is hard. The Hwang Hyunjin that you have seen since the five year old boy moved next door to you. The Hwang Hyunjin that would cross dress in your clothes. The Hwang Hyunjin that would steal your dumplings. It is the same Hwang Hyunjin that you fall for. You had all these doors with specifications that opened to only men like Lee Minho and yet like the rude asshole that you oh so adorably love he seemed to tear them down. Or perhaps those doors were meant for others and Hyunjin always had a door of his own for your heart.

You should have asked yourself why but would it have really mattered? You're here with Hyunjin by your side, whether he knows your feelings or not and you couldn't be any less glad, even if you are sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing Hyunjin right there.

"I'll come back, Jinnie," you tell him, looking up at him and coughing slightly, trying to move back slightly to put some space between the two of you. "I'm not running away. I just need to buy some strips of paraceta—"

"I want to be responsible for them," His gaze doesn't leave yours. "I want to be responsible for you, your emotions and everything you are, if you let me."

You wouldn't dare to shift your eyes away, or focus on anything else. Just Hyunjin. Just your Hyunjin. Your heart beats so fast against your chest that you wonder if it ever had this much for any man or woman. And when Hyunjin pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your frame, hand flat against your head that buries your face into his chest, you learn that Hwang Hyunjin's heartbeat is always your metronome — the beat your entire life seemed to have moved smoothly to.

You giggle against his chest, breaking into a smile, "Are you asking me out, Jinnie?"

"I guess," he chuckles into your hair, snuggling himself into you. He pulls you back to explain. "My original plan was to ask you out after the practice match that I'll make sure we win, but you could possibly not be there as our manager and what if I miss the chance?"

"You lovesick boy," you laugh, smiling stupidly at him. Hyunjin cups your face and presses his forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for so long, Y/N," and you blush, lips pursed and you smile back, heart fluttering.

"Thank you," you press a kiss against his cheek.

"For what?"

"For being you and for always loving me."

Hwang Hyunjin holds your face and kisses like he is capable of getting rid of all your worries, slowly bleeding into your marrows and cells and soaking you of the very essence he is. He holds you like you are a precious being — and to him, you are because he finally has you after all these years; he finally gets to call you his.

His lips are warm and tasted of mint; obviously from the mint chocolate ice cream earlier. His hands are wrapped around your waist and yours are locked around his neck pulling him down slightly. His strands of blond locks brush against your face, ticking you slightly and you giggle into the kiss. He laughs against your lips before kissing you slowly, drawing the kiss for as long as he could. When you break apart for air, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his, gathering some much needed oxygen. His smile tells you everything you need confirmation over and you smile back, sinking into his hold.

Hyunjin hugs with gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; yet it is the hug of a strong pair of arms that tells everything that you are - every fibre of your being - that he is with you, and you wonder how he is capable of that. How he is capable of holding like you are his whole world — like he rather hold you than anything else.

Hyunjin does exactly that. He holds you tight and close to him in this cold night, ignorant of everything else around the two of you, like you and him only mattered in the place, like you and him are fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night.

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