#which is true but idk how much weight that holds as an explanation

[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #2: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Hammock

Number two for this event goes to @the-blind-assassin-12 for our favorite helicopter pilot. This follows along with the Life is Good storyline and takes place after Red, White and True.

Word count: 1,244

Rating: M? IDK. This one is tame but there's some suggestion.

“Damn.” 

You woke to the sound of his voice, sucking in a breath as your entire body jerked. The hammock beneath you swung from side to side, its motion much more fluid than it had been previously. Oh, shit.

Rocking back and forth while you tried to catch yourself using both hands, you heard the sound of quiet laughter - and then you stilled, head turning to the side. “Frankie? I’m sorry, I fell asleep.” 

“You did.” Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you stared up at him. He had the hat on his head tipped backwards, the ends of his hair curling wildly around his ears like they always did after he’d run his hands through it. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“It’s fine.” Stretching, you closed your eyes and yawned, humming as you curled your toes inward. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, it -” Frankie laughed again, interrupting your explanation.

“I’m back at the regular time.” What? How long was I sleeping? “We’ve got to think about getting ready to head out soon. Dinner at Ironhead’s is in an hour and a half.” 

You attempted to sit up, beginning to swing your legs toward where he stood. But when Frankie murmured your name, shaking his head slowly, you stopped. “What? You just said I need to get out of here and go inside to change.”

“Wait a minute.” He let go of the edge of the hammock, bending down to untie his shoes. “We’ve got a couple, at least.” 

You figured out what he was doing moments later when Frankie stood again, pulling his hat off and letting it fall to the ground next to his shoes and your phone, which was face down in the neatly trimmed grass. “Franke, how much weight can these things …” Trailing off when he sat at the edge and then swung his feet up, you closed your eyes as you scooted over, making space. “...hold?” 

“Plenty. I bought the heavy duty frame and the most durable material so that it wouldn’t blow away if I couldn’t get to it in time during a storm. We’re fine.” He pressed himself against your side and then turned his head to look at you. “Hi.” 

The way he stared at you still took you by surprise sometimes. 

After the initial week together in Virginia and the first couple visits between you in your hometowns, you’d known things were real. When he’d admitted that he loved you on the boat only a few months prior, everything had slammed firmly into place, your feelings for him just as overwhelming and consuming as you’d ever hoped falling in love with someone would be. 

But no matter how much you believed the words he said or how strongly you felt the same in return, it would never compare to the intensity in his eyes when they met yours. Frankie always looked at you with interest, but when he was really emotional, there was a quiet desperation there, too - the fear of losing you or ruining things hidden just behind the desire. 

“Hey, ‘Fish.” You only used the nickname sparingly, preferring to call him by his full name if you didn’t use Frankie, but when he grinned at the sound, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the dimple in his bearded cheek appearing, you knew it had been the right call that day. “How were your flights?”

“Good. Only had three today. Two short tours and a longer one. Lots of people visiting for Thanksgiving so the longer tour was parents with a kid. He loved it up there. Reminded me of Elijah.” Of course it does. The weight of the two of you made the hammock rock gently, the side to side motion slower than it had been at your sudden, surprised movement. It felt good to lay there with him, and when Frankie finally closed his eyes and took a long breath, settling one palm against his stomach, you spoke again. 

“I like this. With you.” He hummed out an agreement, shifting even closer and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there. It was the first time you’d been in the hammock together, though you’d both used it separately multiple times in the days you’d spent in Florida. Maybe I should get one of these for home. “I’m glad you had a good day.” 

“It’s even better now.” He spoke while moving again, the man rolling onto one hip and elbow and then hooking a leg over both of yours, getting as close as possible. “I like coming home to you.” You were certain that he heard the sharp intake of breath and saw the widening of your eyes, but Frankie gave you no time to reply, his arm sliding under your neck and shoulders as he lowered his head. “A hell of a lot.” 

You liked him coming home to you, too, but didn’t get a chance to say so before he kissed you, the man’s lips already parted by the time they met yours. Raising the arm that wasn’t trapped beneath his body, you ran your fingers through Frankie’s hair, lifting your hips a few inches to reposition yourself.

That changed the way his body rested against you, but it also changed the angle of the kiss just enough for you to suck his lower lip between both of yours, increasing the pressure enough to elicit a quiet groan from him. 

“Stop that.” He mumbled the words, but you could feel the smile on his lips while he spoke. “We don’t have time.” Frankie didn’t pull away though, the man kissing you again, his lips pressed against your mouth with purpose. “Unless…” 

He backed away, blinking down at you. “Unless what?” You watched as he arched a brow, the hand not on your shoulder sliding up your side and pushing the thin hoodie you wore with it. 

“Unless you can be quick.” His eyes darkened, Frankie glancing down and then back up. “And I mean really quick, because -” 

You pushed him away eagerly, hand firmly on his shoulder, but thanks to your position, you pushed a little too hard, Frankie’s weight - and the momentum from your shove - carrying him backwards and out of the hammock, the man tumbling to the grass with his mouth open in surprise. “Oh, shit, I’m -” You rolled, too, peeking down at him over the edge of the fabric as he blinked up at you, mouth hanging open in shock. “Are you alright?” 

But you were trying not to laugh, because the sight of Frankie sprawled out on the grass beneath you was downright amusing. “I’m fine. My pride’s taken a hell of a hit, but…” He groaned, swiping a hand over his face. “I’ll live. Probably.” I’m sure you will. 

Carefully, you moved so that you could stand from the hammock, one foot planted on each side of his hips. “We should go inside and make sure.” Bending down and resting your hands on your knees, you locked eyes with him. “I can be very quick, Francisco. Can you?” His eyes darkened again before he used both elbows to push himself upright, lips crashing into yours a second time. Perfect. This is perfect. 

“Fuck being quick.” It was little more than a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless, Frankie trailing off before he tugged on your lip with his teeth, his nose wrinkling. “Ironhead can wait for us.” 

— 

[annarubys]

the kinsey scale is like a brother to me because we are allllll over the place like i’m bi but the single shred of evidence is a crush i had in MIDDLE SCHOOL and who knows if that’s even reliable because it was a decade ago. but also i don’t think it was comphet because i was obsessed with this kid to an embarrassing degree. but you would think there would have been maybe one other person post puberty. so then i was like okay i can be a lesbian i guess since at 13 i probably wasn’t a reliable narrator but then the boys aired and. well. there were five minutes where i did think jackles was maybe hot (an experience which i hated). anyway i am thinking about all of this because i am watching something with sebastian stan who i did routinely used to say was hot but he is really giving me nothing right now so maybe i was being a liar. the thing is i can’t remember

[writingtoforgetreality]

Sleep Paralysis (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You hated sharing a room with another person. Especially when it came to sleeping. Which usually resulted into you staying awake for the night if you were teamed up with someone. Sometimes you could not escape exhaustion, though.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insomnia, experiencing sleep paralysis, anxiety, TFATWS spoilers (I don’t think there are any but just to be sure I guess), Zemo awakens the poet in me idk, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The people you found yourself teamed up with gave you safety. Sam, Bucky & even Zemo. With the three of them on your side, you had nothing to fear. Missions with these guys were easy. If the two grown ass men children were not occupied with killing the other grown ass man child. Names were not needed here, that was explanation enough. You were surprised yourself when you started enjoying Zemo’s company. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be the bad guy. So why could you not view him as such? Was it the way he moved his body? Was it his hair which fell in place just perfectly imperfect? Was it his coat that accentuated the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders alone? Was it his smile that was just the tiniest bit bigger whenever he glanced at you? Was it that stupid head tilt thing that was everything but stupid to you? What the hell was it? And why the hell was resisting your urges so damn hard?

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could have sworn that his eyes fell on you, no matter how big the crowd. You could have sworn that his body searched out your presence wherever you went. There was this unspoken thing between you guys. As much as you wanted to address the tension building up, you were apprehensive what your best friends would say about it. You were doubtful how he would receive the news. Your ever growing friendship was at risk. The mere thought of having to live your life without him was inconceivable. How did it work before he came along? It was like your brain erased those memories altogether. Truthfully, he changed your life around without having an idea of the effect he had on you. Or he did know but enjoyed messing with your feelings. Though he did not strike you as that type of man.

Countless nights were spent with you having deep, meaningful conversations. Thanks to those times, you perceived his side of the story. His motives & what drove him to the actions that brought him behind bars in the end. By no means were you trying to justify his crimes. There would have been multiple different ways. Back then, the only purpose for him was revenge. Apologies that came too late were given. Zemo truly was sorry. And while words & emotions could be faked easily, it was impossible to hide the deeper meaning that his eyes held. The softness, the wariness, he could not simulate this. Those beautiful brown orbs were withholding years worth of tears. It was not your position to force him to display his weakness in front of you. Sometimes, simply knowing that another person was available if needed, that was enough.

The same feeling of secureness was provided by him. Your past was not necessarily pleasant either. Innumerable regrets labeled your existence. You were not a good example of a hero. Every day, you contemplated the what-if’s. Overthinking was part of your diurnal routine. All the pondering was needless. The switch only shifted after the beginnings of Zemo’s nocturnal reassurances. Without him, you would still be stuck in that gloomy pit your body had constructed on its own. You two were reliant on each other. Not physically but mentally. Unpretentiously, small touches followed. Brushing his thumbs over your smooth skin on the back of your hand. Squeezing your shoulders gingerly. Goosebumps erupted each time his body warmth was transferred to yours. Whether he wore his leather gloves or not, your body responded with endless fireworks that launched from deep inside.

The hotel you entered radiated wealth. Zemo negotiated the reservations. Which was obvious by the mere impression of the lofty ceilings that were embellished with immense sparkling chandeliers. Your eyes overstrained from the extravagance, switching from one highlight to the next. As a regular citizen, your income denied you such a lifestyle. Avengers did not earn a fortune, this trait came with the job description. Meaning that you would savor every little ticking of your stay. The marvelous high of contentment ceased when the receptionist informed you of an immutable adjustment concerning your room situation. The only two vacant premises were a king size in one & two singles in the other. Apparently, the decision was resolved without you having a say in it. Your questions were answered with a definite proclamation. You were the only soul unable to kill the Baron. Your attempts to conceal your embarrassment were unsuccessful. The smirk adorning Zemo’s features was unhelpful in your current position. Sam & Bucky abandoned you in the entrance, heading off to their room to rest after a tiring mission.

Zemo demanded your luggage to be brought up to your chambers. One of his hands rested on your lower back. This motion warmed your body. It was so simple yet filled with extensive care. It should have been wrong but you have never felt more protected in your entire life. One thing worried you. Sharing a room with the man who brought out your true happiness. It was no secret that you suffered from insomnia. Usually, it vanished after indefinite missions. The interminable flight in Zemo’s private jet added up to your exhaustion. Under no circumstances would you sleep in a room with the Baron. The trust existed, that was not the issue. What happened during your slumber could not be controlled. The tossing, turning, screaming. Nightmares invaded your dreams every time you closed your eyes. Therefore, you obviated sleep as long as possible. Multiple cups of coffee, the heavy does of caffeine every day, aided your wish to stay up. If you narrated a good enough excuse, he would not inquire. At least, that was what you hoped.

Stepping through the tall door into the spacious room, you stopped dead in your tracks. You needed a second to take everything in. Never before had you occupied such a luxurious chamber. It resembled a suite. Different shades of warm colors complemented each other. The vast windows enabled your view of the city beneath. Colorful lights brought the dead of the dim night to life. Facing the stars aligning the somber night sky, Zemo arranged himself next to you. Minutes of silence enveloped you, filling the room to the brink. The man next to you fractured the quietness with whispers. He pointed out various constellations. Observantly, you absorbed his words. He was cultured but never bragged about it. His sentiment of deliberate timing was unique. One of his characteristics was fathoming when to quit talking. Or when it was suitable to speak. Zemo constantly knew how to ease the tension with his thoughtful comments.

“You take the bed. I am content with resting on the couch.” he proposed. As much as you appreciated his deliberation, you pronounced the contrary.

“No, Helmut. I won’t sleep anyway, you can have the bed.” your gentle smile underlined the tiredness emanating from your eyes. He tilted his head to one side, observing your body language.

“You have not rested after our mission yet. Not even during the flight where Sam, James & I slept.” he annotated, worry audible in his voice. Your shoulders lifted in a short shrug. Alleging that you were fine. Spending hours with you concluded to him comprehending your lies. Your features were different whenever you attempted feigning him. Approaching your figure in the barely illuminated room, he halted a few steps away from you. Movements of his hands caught your attention. The gloves were peeled off. Lifting one of his arms, you shivered when his skin touched your cheek affectionately. His fingers caressed your face so lovingly, your eyes closed instinctively. “You are exhausted, darling.” his words were soft, soothing your ears by the fragility of them. The space between you two was narrow. You breathed the same air. His body heat passed onto you. Your heart sped up, almost as if it could break out any second. Nobody had ever made you feel that way. Nodding obediently, Zemo dragged you closer to the soft mattress covered with silk sheets. It was a desired invitation. It did not last long before you gave in. The smooth material welcomed you. Realizing Zemo’s retreating steps, your hand reached for his wrist, freezing his tries. He glanced over his shoulder bewildered.

“Stay.” it was music to his ears, hearing your quiet proposition. Holding himself back, he shook his head briefly. A signal that he did not want to disturb you. “Please.” his face softened at your plea. How could he resist your sweet voice? How could he resist you when it was obvious that you wished for him to stay with you?

“Okay.” pulling back the blankets, he lied right behind you. Your back was facing him. The shock was only brief when your hand searched for his arm. Draping it over your waist, you sighed contently when he embraced you tighter. It was not just what you needed. This, it was required by him as well.

Peaceful hours of cuddling went by without disruption. The calm was interrupted by your eyes snapping open in fear. Your back was against the mattress. Staring at the tall ceiling, your breath quickened when you could not move. Could not talk. Could not scream. There was not a single thing that could be done but you awaited the bad that would arrive soon. It was not the first time you experienced such a situation. The pressure in your chest grew steadily, obstructing your breathing. Your muscles ached, your head pounded. Someone would murder you. If you did not rise soon, death would come knocking on your door. Your attempts to push away the sheets & your labored breath stirred the man next to you awake. His confusion ended when he noticed your struggles. Propping his head onto one of his arms, he scooted closer to your body. Zemo knew what you were going through at the moment. While he had never suffered from such a period himself, he had read about it. Your eyes widened when his locked onto yours. The fear was visible even without a light illuminating the room. His free hand moved to your cheek. In the process, he whispered sweet nothings to you in hopes that they would reach you. Irregular breaths were still very much present. Though you had him with you, your anxiety was acting up still. Your mind was determined that you would die in a few minutes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me.” your eyes slowly shifted from the ceiling to his dark, almost black ones. They were a beautiful shade of brown but it was too sinister to detect the different hues. “There you go.” his voice was steady, controlled. “What you are experiencing is called sleep paralysis. It means that you are awake but your body is asleep still. It will be over soon, I promise. This might feel life threatening to you but I’m here, okay? I am here with you & I will not let anything happen to you.” his eyebrows raised expectantly. The most you could give him was a useless attempt of a nod. His fingers stroked over your skin, bringing you comfort. You were not on your own. Zemo held you close to his body. Still unable to move, the one thing you could feel was his body heat. Minutes without change went by. Affirmations were whispered into the quiet of the ample room. Your leg shuffled the blankets. A small smile crept onto your face. Finally, you had control again. Your muscles were no longer frozen in place. Overwhelmed by the sudden liberty, you embraced Zemo into a tight hug. Reciprocating immediately, he held your head in place in the crook of his neck. His other arm raked around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. He assured you that you were alright. That nobody & nothing could hurt you. Not when he was around. The silent tears rolling down your cheeks were inevitable. They stained his shirt but he could not care less. All that mattered was you overcoming the feeling of uncontrollability. Maybe it was his explanation. Or his proximity. Or his sweet words calming you down. In the end, the cause was insignificant. Zemo helped you through this & there were no words to express your gratitude to him.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his forehead against yours. You mimicked his deep breaths, disposing of the last bits of worry. When you were in his presence, it was gratuitous to be fearful. Demons had no chance. Not when it came to Zemo. The next reaction came naturally. This time, you did not fight the urge to press your lips onto his. You took his breath away by the unexpected action. There were no complaints from his side. Both hands rested on your face, bringing you closer if it was even feasible. In your imagination, you recalled kissing Zemo to be heated. This right now was the exact opposite. No words could depict what emotions were rushing through your entire body. Descriptions were useless if you could demonstrate it with a simple kiss. After it ended, silence sheathed you two once again. It was everything but unpleasant. He kept holding onto you. Zemo would never judge you because of nightmares or similar occurrences. Your head rested on his chest, above his heart. The beat calming your nerves even further. Explaining that you had always suffered from the monsters of the night, he did not interrupt. You needed to confide & he was more than happy to be available. Another soft kiss was pressed on top of your head. A content sigh left your lips. Zemo assured you that he would stay, no matter what. He was in this for good. Whatever this was. Time would clarify the relationship between you two. All you knew was that it felt right. Having him close to you. Having him as your protector. Having him to brighten up your days. Simply having him. That was adequate. That was your unspoken wish. You expected a lot but you did not expect the fulfillment of a previous unknown dream. You were home.

Published (04/21/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @eristudytime, @hiraethmaximoff, @incansas, @fionanovasleftnut, @mundaytuesday, @ashamed23, @pedropascallovebot, @kpoptrash2000, @lulu-yuming, @bibliophilewednesday, @arctic--ash, @mischiefmanaged71, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @tatooineisdry, @obsidian-queen, @h0ly-fire, @dxnxdjarxn (thanks for your support <3)

[lazywonderlvnd]

if you ever take prompts would you ever write harry as a himbo? disgustingly charming, kind and respectful to women BUT stupid. and draco is all "you're so stupid its so hot take off your trousers"

this is literally so funny im shaking. i tried to keep harry as ic as possible idk ytfsugeruahes i’m rly dying tho. living for these rare tropes keep em coming. hope u enjoy anon ❤️

“Can I get two cranberry vodkas?”

“Vodka cranberries,” grunted the surly bartender, unmoving. Harry’s eyebrows came together, obviously confused. Draco sighed and tried not to sound too fond.

“No,” said Harry. “Cranberry vodkas, I mean. The flavoured kind.”

“Harry,” said Draco, putting a hand on his arm, “it’s not flavoured vodka. It’s vodka and cranberry juice, he just means it’s typically called --” But he stopped trying, because Harry had an eyebrow raised and looked unimpressed with the explanation. He turned to the bartender. “Two vodka cranberries. Thank you.”

“What’s the difference?” Harry said when the man behind the bar had turned away to get their drinks. Had they been at a wizarding pub this wouldn’t have happened -- people didn’t talk to Harry that way. This Muggle clearly just thought he was a moron, which might have been true in a number of ways but it was always so very endearing.

“That’s just what it’s called,” Draco explained, grinning. He touched a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “People are quite touchy about terminology.”

“Whatever,” said Harry. “I thought it was flavoured vodka, that makes more sense.”

“No, honey,” said Draco kindly. “It’s cranberry juice, that’s why it’s red.” He took the drinks as Harry passed the bartender his Muggle money, telling him to keep the change to pay for a couple girls’ drinks that were ordering. They giggled and fluttered their lashes at him, not knowing he had no interest, he was just Harry, being an absolute gentleman came naturally to him.

They took their drinks outside, Draco privately hoping the cool autumn air would lower his body temperature a little bit (Harry’s shameless idiocy always, unfailingly, made him hot under the collar, he didn’t for the life of him know why), and no sooner had Harry pulled out a cigarette than he’d stuck it absent-mindedly in his mouth the wrong way and lit the filter.

“Fuck, shit,” Harry muttered, plucking it out from between his lips and, with a roll of his eyes, chucking it perfectly into a bin some ten feet away. “Why do I do that every time?”

Draco, half-hard, watched him light another and then took it when Harry offered it to him. He lit another for himself, looking completely, mind-meltingly hot for no reason at all as he checked to make sure he was doing it the right way.

“Oi, could we bum a couple of those?” a woman asked, the high trill of her voice indicating she was properly sloshed.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” said Harry, hurrying to take the last two out of his pack and handing them to the woman and her friend. He then used his little Muggle contraption to light both of them up, oblivious to the way they looked at him with hungry eyes.

“Thanks so much,” the woman’s friend said, but when Harry only gave them a charming little smile and nod before turning back to Draco they took the hint and walked off, looking slightly crestfallen. Draco clenched his teeth and reminded himself he was not allowed to drag Harry into a bathroom stall to ravish him.

“I was thinking for Ron’s birthday,” said Harry, looking at once moronic and attractive holding his cigarette with his thumb and index finger like it was a joint, “he’s always threatening to eat his body weight in things. I wanna get him, like ... I dunno, his body weight in Chocolate Frogs or something. How would we calculate, like, how much his body weight would be in Chocolate Frogs?”

Draco took a moment to suck in a crisping lungful of smoke, telling himself again, over and over, he couldn’t drag Harry into the loos, he couldn’t do that, it was illegal ...

“Do you have any idea?” Harry pressed. “Maybe I should just ask Hermione.”

“Harry,” Draco said, stubbing out his cigarette. “D’you know how much Ron weighs?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know how much he weighs in Chocolate Frogs,” he said, taking Harry’s cigarette and putting that out too. Harry looked at him, confused, as Draco took his hand, feeling very resigned, and began leading Harry towards the bathrooms.

“Wait, what?” Harry said, and then, “Where are we going?”

Draco shoved him into the bathroom and manually did the lock.

“There’s no calculation, Harry,” said Draco. He pushed him back against a wall and pulled open the zipper of his windbreaker. Harry looked more bemused than ever. “Whatever his weight is, that’s also his weight in Chocolate Frogs.”

And finally understanding dawned in Harry’s eyes. “Oh!” he exclaimed, looking excited. “Right, yeah, that makes sense!”

“God, you’re so dumb,” Draco muttered, and started fumbling with his trousers.

[hhjs]

summary ➝ "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigating the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

"Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart.

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.

It was meant to be felt.

word count ➝ 16.6k words.

alternatively➝ university premise.

genre ➝ angst, romance??? comedy??? a smidge of drama??? idk

pairings➝ han jisung. x fem reader.

warnings ➝ recreational drinking, use of profanity, suggestive.

note➝ i suspect that i have a vague emotional attachment to this. Please note that it used to be a jeonghan fic originally but is now rewritten.  i've been toying around with my writing style, idk if this has met what's expected :c but... this piece is a proper example of the idiots to lovers trope. 

a huge thanks to @emhpathy​ for beta-reading. 

 also i felt indolent and didn’t edit. :(

loosely based on the Coldplay song in question, ‘A Message’.

After. 

The air smells like seasalt. Like having a foamy blanket of  waves draped over your face until you let go, slowly, let all the air leave your lungs. 

In the distant rhythm of the rattling wind, you can barely hear the ring of childish laughter. It's an old bicycle Minho last rode when he was 13. Jisung's driving too fast. But you don't care, you don't care because you feel just so alive. You can feel your heart on your tongue. Under your fingertips. Inside your chest.

You can't believe it's true. Can't believe this is your life. Can't believe you're real.

The city is a haze of blue and yellow and red. Jisung slows down by the sidewalk, leaning into the wash of colours and it  stains the side of his face a little. The breeze is caressing his hair. Patting stubborn gelled strands out. His shoulders rise and fall with every little movement, upwards and downwards. When he breathes in and when he breathes out. Everything seems to slow down. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.

 Then suddenly- and it surprises you a little - Jisung pauses, cranes his neck back to smile at you. It's lopsided, toothy. He looks so much younger. Suddenly, so utterly boyish. You commit the sight to memory, the sliver of his teeth, the glint in his eyes, the curl of his mouth -

You hope you never forget this.

 Because this is how you know. This is how you've always known.

You wouldn't change anything. Even if you could go back.  

Not for a second. Not when it hurt. Not when it was hard.

Not even once.

...

Bach's  Toccata & Fugue in D Minor. 

You're in your bedroom, you can hear the music in your head, the crescendos and diminuendos, the feather light piano, the strum of a guitar and the gargling of a trumpet, fingers buzzing with an intense desire to write it all down. But then the sound of an organ rips through the air, the curtains pull apart. Your bedroom floor gives away from under your feet. There is a stage, there is an audience impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say.

So you run, run, run home.

You remember standing in front of your mum's bedroom. Knocking. When she lets you crawl back under the covers and she runs a caressing hand down your back, you say nothing. (There seems to be a gaping hole in your chest. And you don't understand it. Like something's missing.) . When she traces the shape of your jaw and says trouble sleeping? you say nothing. Then the rain pelts the windows, the curtains are  pulled; suddenly it's so much darker, so much colder, you place a hand over your heart and then look up at her, up to her large, concerned eyes and say, "It hurts."

 But it's okay. It's okay. You'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.  Because your mum smells like home, like the earth after it rains. It's okay because the world is less scary when you're a kid. When you don't understand.

 Then you're on a train, it skids against its tracks and your hand hurts from holding onto the handle for too long. You hold your draft against your ribs.There are too many people. Shoulders. Heads. Standing. Sitting. Their lives are different. Even when they're together. 

From here, you can make out a woman stroking her toddler's cheek, a teenager with a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in hand, a tall man, with his head hung low. He is smiling down at his lover. His fingers splay against her throat. She is looking at him. They say nothing. 

 She stands on her toes and kisses him. And something inside you suddenly comes alive, an absence, tries to gnaw its way out of your ribcage. Tries to tell you I've never left. 

The train finds itself in the belly of a tunnel. Outside, it's so much darker. So much colder. There's a blinking streetlight ahead. Yellow and lime green. It must have been raining. You don't know your stop.     

All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. This is a stage. 

The passengers are impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say. You can't run this time.

(You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. This city. Something is missing. Something is wrong. You need to get away.)

Now you wait for a room. A door. A bed. And miss your mother with an intensity that's akin to taking a punch to the gut. You don't remember what the earth smells like anymore. Everything in the city is platform and concrete. And soot rising from tall  chimneys.

Suddenly, you can't believe childhood is over.

Spurts of light found themselves against the hallway ceiling, you wondered how long you'd been thinking about that nightmare for it to take so much of your attention. A mic involuntarily roars to life, reminding you that you were still at the varsity and you had to find Jisung. 

Which sounds easy, had it not been for your history with him. Avoiding him was getting progressively hard a task to maintain because you were in the same department, sharing minor courses that prompts you to think that nothing much had changed and you'd be lying if you said you mind. He is a stubborn page which keened on flipping over in the youthful chapters of your life, refusing to be left behind and some part of you is too scared to know what would happen if you had.

You sigh, looking at the clock nailed to one of the pale yellow pillars and then close your eyes to try to ease the tension in your shoulders. Breathing in. Breathing out.  This morning, you put on a thin cotton dress but the humidity had somehow prompted it to appear somewhat translucent.

Summer brushes up against the back of your neck, you rub your eyes vigorously, placing your sweaty palms on them, dapples of light settled atop  the lids. Coating the little twists of purplish veins pink and white, becoming brighter and brighter and brighter. Any minute now and you would muster up the courage to face him.

You push the field door open.

Football players for the born-again team are loitering about in the heavily populated room, expectants look on most of their faces. You begin to feel twice as much nervous than you did before. 

See, the possibility of stuttering nonsensical sentences and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of Jisung and nameless strangers, again, wasn't the most thrilling idea for you but if you don't make the deadline this time on this group assignment, you'll fail your linguistics course, so it  would be tough to bounce back from for the both of you.

The coach, who is a lanky man, with an alarmingly ruddy face and tufts of snow white hair spiralling out of his head, experienced a lot of difficulty blowing it away from his line of sight. With the  door held back, pressing a curious looking opaque board to his chest, he scans the entirety of the team with an owlish stare, when he was satisfied with the number of persons attending, he stepped in.

"Game starts in 10 minutes." he pauses, allowing the candidates to settle in. A feet away from you, Changbin produces a series of garbled profanities before going back greedily guzzling down the rest of his gatorade.

Once the coach clears his throat, his beady eyes travelling from one curious face to another, flitting between each person, it finds you briefly then it darts curiously across the scenery behind you, as though an explanation for your presence is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

You hold the assignment packet against your chest, feeling the weight of gel blue letters under the rough pad and then slowly fold it open.

Han jisung. You tell him, that's who I'm looking for. 

It takes you awhile to navigate your gaze to the owner of the name amidst the maze of students huffing and puffing about schedules and missing lectures and deadlines, some shouldering their way out in bored frowns, some smiling excited smiles, rushing to grab a suitable seat. Like a blur of faces you catch on the subway and eventually forget, the little snippets of another person's life. Glimpses of them from car windows pressed together in traffic, just a few seconds before the light turns green. One minute you think you know them, put yourself in their shoes and imagine their life for them and the next, you go back to being strangers. 

To you, Jisung's face is an unmistakable, unforgettable kind of face. 

Taunting you from posters of his many swim team accomplishments, under which his name stood in big bold yellow letters, plastered on the noticeboards, on the  walls where the paint was starting to crack. The search didn't prove to be very difficult even though he didn't stick out like a sore thumb without his signature bleached blonde hair.

A varsity jacket is discarded on his body. Under the blue and yellow fabric, Jisung's chest rises and falls with every breath, his lanky legs perched up on the bleachers.  You wonder how he managed to doze off in the face of all this tension about getting clocked in face with a football. 

Aside from by accident, you were positive he hadn't tried to speak to you ever since your previous, unspeakably embarrassing encounter. 

That was a long time ago. 

It was certain that had it not been for this assignment, things between you would remain that way. In spite of this, you've gathered, because people never stop fawning over this prominent character, that not much has changed since you were in school.

Jisung managed to secure an attention drawing position wherever he went and upperclassmen wanted to be his friend even though he mostly indulged only in his own company. 

His head rests on folded arms, his foot is propped up on his knee, which he keeps shaking.  Sunlight crawls up the expanse of his exposed cheek, allowing burnt orange to  bathe half of his face, ribbons of liquid light tapering to smudges down the side of his jaw and disappearing.

Jisung has a boyish face, his eyes are big and kiddish, paired with a sharp nose and a convenient, small, pinkish mouth inherently pouted out to accentuate his puffy squirrel like cheeks but slimming down around his jaw. His raven hair falls in sleek, wet tufts clinging to his forehead and grazing his rosy cheeks, giving him a strange resemblance to a cherub loitering around in the real world.

Come to think of it, Jisung looks, like he invariably does, just slightly out of place.

You drop your bag on the grass. The action makes an unexpected thump. His eyes stir  faster behind closed eyelids, as though he were stirring awake from an ardently produced dream, like a newborn baby, divorced from the worries of the world. Jisung opens one of his eyes, then another, glaring confusedly, his lips pursed in unspoken surprise.

What's the big deal, right? At best, he'll start cooperating with you. At worst, you imagine, he'll toss you across the field for disrupting his sleep.

Of course, no one in their right minds would opt for the latter option, the rational part of you reasons - but you show him the packet,  just for safety measures.

"I thought we ought to go over how we're going to work around this assignment and you weren't in class so..."  You explain. When Jisung just blinks up at you in a curious fashion, you consider that he might not recognise you at all, that, for some reason, bothers you. "You probably don't remember me I-"

"I remember." He interjects firmly, acknowledging you with a fluent utterance of your name that gives you enough evidence of his claim, followed by a watchful, stoic gaze, he motions for you to take a seat beside him. 

You hesitantly sit at the end of the row,  keeping a calculated distance between your bodies. You find that even after all this time looking him in the eye was just as unnerving as it had been the first time they shyly flickered back to yours from across a thick spined A levels Calculus textbook. There's still an intimidating air about him, something that seeks to be constantly impressed without asking to.

Jisung sits up straighter, setting both his legs on either side of the bench, he keeps his gaze trained on your face, not looking away once. "Go on." He suggests, his voice low, "What do we have to do?"

You perk up at this, taking the contents out of the packet. Setting them down before you, you reiterate the instructions rendered in class, trying to include every important detail which contributes to the making of the project.

"We have to attach a PowerPoint part too." You paused, "Let's do that bit today."

Jisung listens intently, never cutting you off, he nods occasionally, making suggestions when you were trying to look for suitable loops in your schedules to work on the scheme, you recommended  several premises, ranging from cafés to parks to libraries to food courts, even your place because it's the closest from Jisung's flat and he refuses go beyond the distance on a Sunday morning. You casually let in the fact that your flatmate would be there in order to insinuate that you hadn't made the offer because of your previous feelings for him.

 You sigh, taking a minute to stretch back and take a deep breath. The bench is cool under your thighs, soft caresses of a warm summer breeze brushing the hair from your face away, pale yellow pours from the canopies, staining the grass, football players prepping in the distance, their zealous partners egging them on with excited smiles, shouting encouragements from the other end of the court.  You imagine lying down on the grass, spreading your arms out and not having a care about anything.

"You still wear that bracelet." 

"What?" You yawn, brows furrowed in confusion. You look at him from the corner of your eyes,  finding that his brown orbs motion to the source of comment, they dart from your cheek to your wrist, where surely the platinum accessory is tied to its loosest hoop, it used to be your go-to add-on in school. 

Surprised, you touch the item briefly, before retracting your hand slowly. All you can think is he remembers, he really remembers,  "...Yeah."

...

Instead of running about playgrounds with a mouthful of kiddish laughter and building cartoonishly  architectured sandcastles, you remember spending most of your childhood with your nose dug deep inside a fairytale, splurging much time on committing the glide of milky pages to memory, eyes widening, face twisting with each vicissitudes of emotions that would come over you with each stage of exploring a story. It was your own little world, a catharsis for all that you were holding inside, a window you could crack open and when the real world felt stuffy. 

Fancying Jisung was, your younger self imagined, fantastical, like something out of those fairytales.

You don't know when you started liking him, maybe it was the first time you saw him. It was your last year in school and Jisung's unfamiliar face was a new sight against the fuzzy background of sleepy students pouring into the hallway, it was the kind that demanded to be noticed, even though he simply  looked bored with an enormous pair of headphones looped around his thin neck.

Jisung was born to go through life being the embodiment of an all rounder, now that you think about it, there's not a thing he wasn't good at, always  having a proclivity to outshine others.

 He was a transfer student with stellar grades in spite of mostly routing his interest  towards composing  obscure music you'd found floating about the net. In all honesty, he truly was the master of all trades and the jack of none and every room was a keeper of attention, enveloped in an intangible but unanimous, wordless veil of interest towards the new character.

But  maybe it wasn't as theatrical as you remembered; maybe it was the love at  first sight nonsense, maybe it wasn't something you realised overnight, out of the blue, maybe it all happened at a slow, infuriating pace, maybe you started liking him for the small, stupid and unimportant things, like when you dropped your pen, the thin stick rolling away between your desks and he picked it up, flicking it between his fingers curiously, carefully curling his fingers around the metal, observing it before putting it back on your desk, maybe it was in class, when he zoned out in class, not bothering to look apart until he realised it had caught your attention, he then blinked away, the rosy hue of his cheeks more prominent with each passing second,  maybe it was when you were sure you were about to flunk the history pop quiz and Jisung whispered the names of warriors and poets and the fallen while keeping his gaze firmly poised on his paper.

You were so shy, cloistered, intensely egregious and he kept seeking you out in some new manner, causing you to be an element of mild interest not only amongst your peers but also people who actively seeked his romantic interest.  Although, conversations  on your part never stretched beyond differentiation and stealing cautious glances at one another, (which wasn't a shocker because you didn't know how to compute a chat with him and Jisung was unusually timid for someone who acquainted himself with well known rambunctious personalities), you genuinely enjoyed his company.

So you obliged. Even though it was utterly improper and you were sure he liked someone on the cheer squad. It was just that you were a kid and you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve just once before tucking it away forever.

He poked his head out from the water, wordlessly upon hearing his name, looking at you with a cocked brow and you were quick to say it, like you had to before you ended up changing your mind, it took a lot of courage to mutter a simple confession after all,  in spite of the fact you didn't at all picture him reciprocating, whisking you off of your feet with a wide grin, in a grand affirmation of all the rubbish pop culture has spoon fed you. 

It was a stereotypical teeth rotting, sweet crush that bound you to want to be around Jisung in a way he didn't, something lodged deep inside of you, the same thing that was childish and clung onto its fairy tales for dear life, hoped that he would share the same feelings, in spite of knowing it was undoubtedly unrequited. 

 Jisung had an indecipherable look on his face, he parted his mouth to say something but paused as if looking for the right words.  He simply settled with a sigh, before lowering his body down into the pool. You replayed the scene over and over again for the rest of senior year, until it drove you to a point of absolute insanity. You even considered googling what a sigh was supposed to convey, if fishing through dictionaries wasn't going to tell.

That was notably the last time you spoke in school.

But your strained relationship stayed with you like an embarrassing tattoo  and in trying desperately to  conceal it, afraid someone would see too much, know too much, you would only make it more apparent. 

You had to push him away to the farthest corner of your mind so you didn't have to wonder anymore, didn't have to interpret every action like your life depended on it - because love to you was so immense that it was overwhelming. You've wanted love to rescue you in some way, looked for it in the soft murmur of pages, in the chilling words to a song you can't seem to forget, you've waited for love like an impatient eagle anticipating its opportunity  to leap in and swoop up its shot at satisfying its undying hunger. You needed to uproot those budding feelings before they took abode inside your chest, grew stronger, into something massive, unignorable, something like love.

Avoiding Jisung in hallways, in class and really everywhere was some form of a habit you were developing - but that didn't stop him  from entangling himself with your ponderings; you thought of all the things he did without paying much attention to the act, like his petulant whining when he wanted something he wasn't getting, you thought of the way he tapped his pen against the wooden desk, silently eyeing chalky math problems on the board before uttering the answer with an ease only he could carry, you thought of his petulant front during arguments and how he always ended up winning, you just missed being around him without the added tension - which was funny because you're the one to blame for it. 

To your knowledge, Jisung didn't know to speak in puzzles, even when he didn't want to say something, he always found an agreeable way to deliver it,  often unknowingly wording them as they were, he didn't understand the complexities with which people conversed, needing everything to be black and white, as clear as the summer sky, so everyday felt like he owed you an example of his unintentional transparency, a explanation even though you knew he didn't.  

Maybe that's it, you thought, maybe that's all. 

(Sometimes you would sense his gaze searing into the side of your face, as if he was on the verge of uttering a greeting.

But graduation came along. And you never heard anything from him.)

You began to understand that all those tear jerking, unhappy endings were inevitable, like not being able to take your eyes off the stage during  Giacomo Puccini's Sono Andati, like being exposed to Mimi's excruciating death, losing something you can't put a finger on - and suddenly, the plays, the window, the catharsis wasn't enough, the child in you wanted to scream and  kick and throw, the child in you wanted to forge her own ending, the one that made sense, the one you could anticipate.

Running his palms along the cool glass, Jisung pauses from time to time to look at you, as if expecting you to address the elephant in the room, the same elephant that followed you all the way from campus, to his car, to the café downtown. It wasn't until the waiter went away in the pursuit of getting your order did he pose the inquiry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

You shake your head slowly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

 "What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago and I'm over it."

 Saying it out loud like this feels weird, it feels so real and disappointing and embarrassing, you feel reduced to a child coming clean about that one time they tipped over a vase and dusted the debris under the rug he is about to step about on, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

The statement makes you feel guilty, like you're lying. You don't want to know if you really are.

"Well, does that mean we can be friends?" Mutters Jisung against the opening of his straw, sipping miserly as though not wanting to finish the rest of his Americano. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, looking blatantly confused, like that was the only explanation he had for your fallout. "I don't understand." 

Not having thought that far, you stop typing, the click clack of keys muting, Jisung's thick rimmed glasses rest atop the jut of his nose and he's peering over them to look right at you with big wide eyes, genuinely interested in being supplied an answer.  The sixteen year old you would be overwhelmed with bouts of fluster right now. But you stopped being that person a long time ago, in fact, that person is to you a bleary recollection of a mere stranger who you thought you saw somewhere but couldn't put a finger on the location.

Shrugging, unsure, the question comes after a lengthy pause, "I guess it does?"

You sit in temporary silence after the short conversation ends, never going off topic again and giving into irrelevant chats even though Jisung is actively trying to initiate conversation about things which had nothing to do with work. You wonder why, wordlessly admitting that it was getting harder to resist the urge to talk to him with every passing second.

His car was parked a few lanes away from the café so you were obliged to walk after getting through the first portion of the assignment.

"So." Jisung starts, biting the side of his cheek, "What have you been upto lately?"

Talking to Jisung isn't as difficult as your younger self made it to be, he could hold a conversation well, jumping from serious topics to lighter ones to keep the balance, making witty comments here and there that had you laughing without really meaning to and every time, you'd catch a look of satisfaction glinting in his eyes. 

 The pair of you walk by an ice-cream parlour where a short bald man with a perpetually happy  face is handing out samples. A mint green board is attached to the appendage of a stall, outstretching from the original store, it says La Petite Glacière. 

You raise your brows, literal nomenclature.

"Journalism could suit you." The comment is off-handed, a product of you thinking out loud, imagining Jisung running around with a recorder, with his big, friendly eyes, queries posed with an an easy jovial attitude; it's so befitting, you just couldn't help but notify him. Even if it was an involuntary notification. You left out the part where you always pegged his love for composing would eventually materialise instead, this was unexpected to say the least. But Jisung described music as a getaway, something he was willing to do out of passion and not duty.

It was to his credit that he didn't laugh in your face when you said you wanted to be a playwright, specialising solely in the field of fiction. That's one thing he doesn't have in common with your parents. (Who didn't hesitate to point out that it was an obsolete branch of writing.)

"Yeah?" Jisung grins archly, glancing at you, as insinuating the memory of you playing Iago when you were expecting to land Desdemona is still impressed on him. "I could say the same for you."

You only wave him off, rolling your eyes. Some things are better left forgotten.

It's hot and you're really thirsty. You're knee deep in lengthy conversations engineered to catch up with one another, which consisted of ping-ponging inquiries about everything and anything, like how it was moving away from your family and new hobbies and pet peeves and casual strolls down memory lane but then the tension would settle and you would grow awfully quiet, like you're doing something you aren't supposed to, like you're walking into the inviting mouth a ginormous tiger whilst convincing yourself that it won't gobble you up.

"Okay. I have one." you start, he's nodding in encouragement,  "Have you been dating a lot?" 

Jisung laughs at your obvious curiosity, wiping his sweaty forehead with a spare napkin, strolling really fast, long legs promoting his speedy gait, you have to jog from time to time to keep up.

"Why?" 

He tilts his head to you, the teasing spark in his eyes glinting knowingly, he becomes shorter and grows taller walking up and down the slopes of the bumpy road.

  Your eyes widen. You were curious! You haven't spoken to him for a long time and you're just catching up. Exactly, you tell yourself,  that's believable, that, you think, makes sense. The other explanation, the one you're deigning to not look in the eye, that a part of you would be disappointed if he had said yes doesn't.

You flounder for a response, something, just a word or even an awkward noise, anything to formulate a proper retort. When that proves to be delayed and difficult, heat begins to pool into your cheeks, shooting up to the back of your ears and budding under the skin of your neck.

"Just asking."

 He hums, ghosting his fingers along the small of your back, careful not to touch you as he shoulders his way to your side without bumping you off of your feet, the gesture prompts something inside your gut to twist and twist and twist. "Well...yeah, but it's never been serious."

You're waiting for the red light so you can cross the road to the parking area. Jisung is towering over a sea of the heads, he's not much taller than the average person, hands tucked in his pockets. The wind is messing his hair up to the side, he keeps running his fingers through the stubborn strand to get it to sit right but when the endeavour proves to be futile so he just scoffs, as if berating the strand whilst stubbornly repeating the action. 

Looking at him like this, you imagine falling in love with Jisung is easy. Like gliding a hot knife through butter. It must feel just right, even if it doesn't last long, like holding fire in between your palms and pretending you own it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin before it nips and burns, like speeding across comets, stars and the moon, waging wars in the name of romance and producing litanies about love and then - finally, inevitably, unwillingly - letting go, like you always knew you would.

 You imagine the aged memories of blurry faces behind cobwebs of raindrops and curtains of mist, the faces of people who he could've loved but hadn't.

And it scares you for some unknown reason.

There's something inexplicably lovable about Jisung, his babyish features have always possessed the tendency to catch you off guard, even though you've known him for a long time; it's gobsmacking and too winning to be real, like something out of a dream, the milky planes of an acrylic face. The smooth buttery texture of his skin, the subtle, narrow jut of his nose, the pouted shape of his mouth and pearly teeth. You think he doesn't know this, doesn't see himself the way you do even when he pretends to be confident with his boastful jokes, they are just jokes after all. Only further evidence of how he doesn't want to believe any compliment rendered his way.

"What about you?" He poses, looking over from the hood of his car while unlocking it from the driver side, "Dating anyone?" 

The truth is, you've tried the atrocities of blind dating and online dating and casual dating but they all have been deficient and you're too tired to go through the never ending cycle  of being on disappointing dates again: your expectations are too high, some might even say, for the way you seek familiarity with absolute strangers; you're stubborn, awkward and sometimes, simply unapproachable,  but for the sake of not deflating your ego, you decide that Jisung doesn't need to know this. 

You shake your head, failing to understand why Jisung is grinning through the cracked window, whilst you're pulling the door open and plopping down on the passenger seat.

"Why are you smiling?" You furrow your brows, watching as the lopsided grin grows bigger. 

"Because." He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.  

"Because?" You look at him expectantly, but he just looks back at you without expanding the brief explanation. You're so close that you can make out the thin layer of mist collecting on his eyelashes, his arched cupid's bow, his eyes have so much brown in them. You'd liken the colour to that of a muddy lake, like the bare earth, they catch sunlight and turn golden, just for a second, for just one second, it looks like what magic must be like. Realising that you have been staring at him for quite long, you tear your abashed gaze away. Piloting it to shift from the buskers to the other cars, buses, pedestrians, traffic lights, looking for a sight distracting enough.

"I'm not telling you!" Jisung mocks your tone like a child with a violent shake of his head, putting his keys in ignition. The engine roars to life, wheezing like a kettle. Why he drives a Comet Convertible when he could've gotten any other alternative is a wonder; not that you mind, you like it, it’s  like sitting  inside a giant jewelry box, the inside is smooth red leather, velvety smooth black paint on the outside.

"Why not?" You frown.

Jisung rolls the steering wheel with one hand, keeping his eyes trained to the approaching traffic while turning lanes, he giggles, "Because."

...

You'll have to admit that it's quite... challenging coming to terms with being friends with Jisung. Not because he's practically everywhere but  just since Jisung tends to demand your attention when he realises he's not getting it.

When you try to dodge him on mornings after he cheats at UNO, scurrying away behind swathes of sleep deprived university students, hoping you don't catch his eye, he calls your name in that  loud, clear and intentional way that he does, dragging a heavy arm around your shoulder to squeeze it against the back of your neck before tousling your hair or some other action to effectively ruin your get up. When you zone out in class, musing absently about something that has nothing to do with scale efficiency and accidentally catch his gaze, he winks at you, snapping you right back into attention. 

Your friendship is, to say the least, interesting, for everyone around you.  It's like everyone is always on the edge of their seats, waiting for a chance to poke fun at your apparent chemistry. It means nothing, you're just friends, you remind yourself over and over again, defensively, succumbing to the urge to grow closer and closer to him without paying mind to the annoying voice in your head.

Jisung texts you in the middle of the night, when he's parked out front, to meet him for a midnight drive out that you're sure no one knows about and you tell yourself you're getting away with it - only to be confronted by a smirking Sunwoo in the morning, likening the situation to a teenager  caught red handed sneaking in through the window after a clandestine night of partying.

 But you're not spared the teasing even out in the open. Though while you squirm awkwardly, sink into your seat and refute offendedly, Jisung doesn't have a lick of such knowledge or care, he easily slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder in class and dozing off, indifferent to the multiple pairs of eyes zeroing in on you.

Even though the bartenders smile their coquettish smiles, offering drinks on the house and people laughed a little more than necessary, twirling their hair around their fingers at anything and everything he said, thence offering proper chances to ditch you completely, he remains close to you at pubs, putting his long fingers on your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, shooting some creepy guy who just wouldn't stop insisting on buying you a drink a look that said he wouldn't mind taking a stronger stance, had the creep not backed off. It was what anyone would have done, you tell yourself, ignoring the underlying pang of a gut feeling that begged to differ.

You envy the obvious charm Jisung holds over everyone, easing his way out of the jokes to do whatever he wants, you wonder what he would do if someone asked him if you were just friends, if he would dismiss them with a wave or provide a positive response, if it would hurt, if it would matter.

"Hey!" 

You jump at the tone. It's breezy, light and followed by a scoff at the end, you recognise it, sighing once the initial surprise oozes out of you to be replaced with familiarity, Renjun is halfway through a complaint about acrylic paint, his mouth half open while his eyes travel over your head, where you're certain the owner of the voice is jogging up to the pair of you. 

"I'll er...catch you later." Renjun purses his lips, while you turn your gaze back to Jisung, he's coming from practice, so his hair is wet, cheeks flushed red, he looks younger like this, completely barefaced. He's wearing a  plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, even in such an ordinary attire, a few bypassers' attention latch solely onto him.

The sun has long laid on a cotton soft sheet of clouds, letting a blue evening straighten its back against the dark firmament, the crowd at campus is reducing dramatically, you were walking to the metro, deciding to rest by the park bench as he mimics the pose, sliding from the opposite end when you try to keep a distance.

Jisung nudges you with his shoulder. "We’re having a party at our new place. You should come."

It wasn't willingness that took you to loud premises. You aren't exactly a party animal, far from it, maybe an animal that blends into the background, wordlessly observing  masses of sweaty people who will wake up with horrible hangovers the next morning, wishing the night before had never happened. If such an animal exists. 

 But you're genuinely curious about meeting Minho, who seems to have assumed the position of  one of Jisung's best friends while you were absent from his life. You found yourself wondering if he was different from Bang Chan, who in spite of being the former's friend, is someone you could deem yourself more similar to than he is to Jisung; shaking your heads and groaning into your palms, Chan would pinch the bridge of his nose and cautiously glance at you as though to convey You get me, right? while Jisung showered the karaoke bar manager with grandiloquent blandishments into giving extra minutes for a lower price.

Despite this, it is the undeniable but sheer adoration for your fun-loving mutual friend that binds you two together the best, the shared looks of appreciation when Jisung  scolds you for neglecting your health, when he surprisingly remembers a minor detail about you or when he indulges in appreciative chats about crayon drawings with loquacious kids who would come running to display their paintings when you were looking to take an indolent walk in the local park, he would listen attentively, moving to a sitting position, nodding his head like he understood what the kiddish gibberish meant; one thing is certain -  there was certainly more to Jisung than people pegged and if anything, those undiscovered traits only made him more endearing.

"Okay….but make sure we don't end up playing strip poker or something." You shudder at that thought, grimacing exaggeratedly to make your point.

"Why?" He raises his brows, a small simper playing on his lips to give away that he was only teasing you, "I like that game."

But under all that banter, it was well received that Jisung would never put you to the obligation of doing anything you're not comfortable with, so you just play along, narrowing your eyes, "That's because you're a pervert." You say, stifling a laugh whilst his grin dissolves to drop to a blank face.

 Jisung glares at you, nudging you with his knee, effectively putting you on the verge of falling.

"Hey!"  You scoff, repeating the action but Jisung doesn't roll across the grass like you wanted, he doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs at your frustration, shaking his head and glancing back at you with an entertained look in his eyes. 

(Something inside your chest is growing, like an epiphany, its vines pushing up against your lungs, your heart, its thornes prickling, injuring the flesh, something that tells you this is so much more to you than you'd admit, you press it down, ignore it; just a little longer, you think, just a little longer before you start to see this for what it is. )

"Why are you staring at me?" Jisung questions, you can't help but notice how he tilts his head, moving his curious face closer to yours, inspecting, like just before he makes his final move and mutters Checkmate but he doesn't actually know what he's doing, doesn't realise the weight of his actions.  "Do I have something on my face?" He tilts his cheek to you, as though offering you to examine it and then, immediately his mouth lowers down to form a deep set frown. Is he really that goddamned clueless? Doesn't this affect him at all? 

"No." You clear your throat and lean back, moving your weight on your palms,  "It's getting late. We should get going." 

...

The earliest memory you have is from when you were five, your parents had taken you to the beach and that day, while the sun shone brightly and the sand was warm, like home under your feet, with big curious eyes, you gazed off into the brilliant blue water. 

It was just so beautiful. 

And you so badly, wanted to wade into the welcoming foamy arms of the sea. If only the immensity of the water hadn't scared you as much as it did, you thought. It was like a blue giant that was reaching to steal the sun off of the sky and if you  dared to test the waters, the liquid Goliath could whisk you right off of your tiny feet and drag you into its mouth.

 That, you think, is what you're really afraid of, that deep down inside , you never really stopped holding back. That you'll never muster up the courage to do anything you really want.

In the midst of the chaos of an alcohol induced party, your head feels like it's about to explode.

It stopped raining. And you haven't had the luxury of running into Jisung ever since he went off to get a drink for himself.

The windows are open. Though there's not a flutter of a cool breeze or anything. But there are assortments of crisps, juices and other suspicious looking snacks. The cool curve of the stair railing pressing up against your side. It's unspeakably loud. The frat house, as typical as it sounds, welcomes an obnoxiously large crowd, it isn't surprising, considering people here have a reputation for social adeptness, the house being big enough to capacitate a crowd twice as big as its guests is just a plus point.

 Once the majority of the crowd  had  long thinned out to participate in a curious sounding game of  beer pong, the aftermath is that everything smells like sweat, vomit or both. You're tipsy, tired and alone. It's been an hour since you arrived. Your patience is wearing thin. 

 You down the remainder of the watered down scotch, even though the liquid could secure a horrible case of nausea if you couldn't hold your liquor well tonight.

In the mess of too many heads, too many hands and too many bodies, pushing, pulling, dancing and kissing  with shocking hostility, suddenly, the view starts to shift, from left to right, from upwards and downwards, like you're on a rollercoaster but without the lap bar. It's certainly a symptom of  the  splitting migraine you're sporting. It's too loud downstairs for you to summon anyone and besides, the search for a familiar face seems futile.  

You fish out your phone, wondering if you should send Jisung a text, squinting at the glaring blue screen but decide against it - hoping to God that you don't walk in on anyone shagging while looking for one of the rooms to crash in. 

Now, that...would put them in an awkward position. You mentally high five yourself for the joke. 

Though the amusement is  mostly transient, soon replaced by a rapid jerk of pain. Wincing in an attempt to stand with little control over balance, you try to ease the pain from your briefly twisted foot. 

When you've made it to your desired destination, an inconspicuous looking room at the end of the long hall, you kick off the death traps for heels off of your feet and all but fling yourself on the mattress.

Stacks of comics are carefully  placed on the top most shelf of the bookshelf pushed against the wall, their polished spines sticking out.

 The rest are overflowing with vinyls, set in alphabetical order. You can tell because each row has a tag taped over its head.

Everything is surprisingly clean, the walls are crisp white, there's a single black wall on which a large painting sits. A night light glows dimly, perched up on the bedside table. Whoever's bedroom this is, has the blandest taste in interior design. Or a lack of it since they moved in not long ago as Jisung informed.

 You stare owlishly at the blue ceiling, following the undulating spines of bricks, stacked in. Upwards and downwards. Like a map. Like a  staircase to nowhere. Then you close your eyes. 

Imagining that you're staring up at the sky at dawn, when it's  a swirl of milk tea. Golden. Buttery white. Autumnal Yellow. And pumpkin spice. Brown curls against the background of a milky white firmament and if one bothered to look closer, they'd catch stars peeking from behind slowly darkening clouds, waiting to come out. 

When you were a child, you liked to stick a curious index into filled tea cups, as if to study the khaki liquid , not quite grasping the connoisseurship of hot beverages just yet. The experience would always end with a mouthful of biscuits and your grandmum's tickles engendering your stomach to ache a good kind of ache.

Now, the memory prompts you to raise a finger to the air, as if you were dipping your digits into the whirlpool of maroon. For a moment, you feel as if you're still that little girl stuck in someone else's body, like you hadn't grown up at all. 

But in the hurtful manner that reality often made itself known, yanking you right back from your dreams, the door creaks noisily and then closes.

Out of the corner of your eye, the character looks more like a funny sketch on a chalkboard than he does a person. All blurry and messy. Like someone tried to rub him out. 

The flash of light radiating from his phone, a sliver of neon, silver, you recognise his face, you've seen the same expression right before he's about to choose between  his favourite ice cream flavour; eyebrows knitted in concentration, lips pursed, emerging from the shadows.  He's typing really fast. You blink, adjusting your vision. The unobstructed sight of his face broadens. "Jisung?" 

 He looks at you, positioning his phone towards your face to get a good in the barely there light. 

"Yeah?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "What are you doing here?" 

"That's a good question."  He snorts.  "Indeed, what business might I have in my room?"

You jump, sitting straighter, then stand up. Just in case he thinks you're a fucking creep. He probably doesn't even want to be friends with you anymore and you understand, you wouldn't want to be friends with you either. "I...I didn't know."

Jisung laughs loudly at your fluster, rolling his eyes,  he plops down, the mattress dipping under his weight, groaning noisily. He pats the spot beside him. "Relax..."

You wear a doubtful look, under the impression that he'd break into a laughing fit with a quip about you caving in so easily.  You narrow your eyes even though you're quite tempted to take his offer. 

He tuts, yanking you by the arm so you sink down beside him.  

"I just saw you coming upstairs, wanted to make sure some asshole wasn't picking on you." He explains, his face contorting to momentary peevishness just at the fleeting thought. 

A crappy pop song is buzzing in the background, you can hear it, you can smell the salted popcorn in the air. His fringe is brushed forward, cheeks smoothed over, moisturised, in this intimidating proximity, you pick up that Jisung always smells really good. Like aftershave and something strong, woody, earthy — but just the right amount, not overpowering.

 "Have you considered trying something more...erm... colourful?" You  scan his room, deciding to change the subject, attempting to dodge the heavy feeling of fluster in your chest; you guess it was showing on your face because the corners of Jisung's mouth begin to quirk upwards. If there’s anyone more awkward than Jisung, it /s definitely you. "This isn't really you."

 With his mouth lopsided, his nose scrunching upwards, his teeth showing, his eyes turning to crescents, Jisung chuckles, as if perceiving your attempt to digress but choosing to let it slide.

 "Then what is?" He raises a brow.

"I don't know." You pause, trying to picture a suitable tint, "Something bright."

Someone starts blasting Ed Sheeran outside, putting the volume all the way. It creates a proper distraction from the conversation to go beyond simple suggestions, it was a sudden reminder of just how badly you wanted the party to be over.

 "You know the more I think about it, the more I come to acknowledge that this is really not my scene."  You confess absentmindedly, backing up on the mattress so your feet dangle, your headache kicks back, beating inside  your ears, knocking against your skull. You lie back on the mattress, curiously blinking up at Jisung's frowning face.

 "Why didn't you tell me that before?" He says, a pinch in his brows pushing the shape up in utter concern. 

"Because I wanted to come." You say honestly, prompting Jisung to heave a deep sigh, relief gradually washing over his rigid features, "I don't know, maybe I'm just not fun enough."

"Yeah. That's probably it." He jokes, grinning from ear to ear. But the shape drops immediately when you jut your lip out instead of mirroring the mirthful action. "You really think so?"

 He blinks at you, not expecting the forwardness, "No." He says, and you note that this is the most serious Jisung has ever sounded around you.

Your face is growing increasingly hot as the weight of his remark started to kick in. It’s so unfair, isn't it? He has no idea how every little thing he said to you meant so much more than it ought. It hurt when you found yourself automatically deducing his trivial actions, all the while knowing it hadn't meant anything to him.  To him, you're just a friend. And you aren't going to let your emotions ruin that, not again. 

 "What's the party for anyway?"

You furrow your eyebrows in genuine curiosity when the silence has become unbearable. Constantly needing to be disrupted. 

 "It's a stupid frat house tradition, they do it every time we move."

“Sounds like a cult activity to me."

You hear him hum, as if feigning contemplation, then open your eyes.

 "Well, that...That's because it is."

It's very typical of Jisung to try to make jokes whilst trying to keep a straight face. In most cases, he doesn't fool anyone. His voice rises  to a cartoonish volume, his mouth pouted out when he speaks as though to hold back a laugh, it’s his eyes, widened, twinkling with a notorious spark in them that ultimately gave it away. In rare instances, however, they deluded strangers into thinking he was being serious when he really wasn't; like that time he told Chan the pool was pre-heated just for the latter, who trustingly dove into the water, to swim up with clattering teeth and ice cold skin to the surface finding that Jisung was grinning deviously. It was an obvious payback for the time the older male hogged Jisung's share of cheesecake as a daring attempt at pranking.

Maybe, you guess, you just knew him too well.

  "Interesting." you raise your brows, playing along, "I'm surprised there isn't any nude dancing involved."

 "Wow...you sound so disappointed.” 

 Jisung laughs, his chest heaving upwards and downwards with every laboured breath.  It's a pleasant sight, knowing you get to have this moment to yourself. For reasons you'd like to ignore, something inside your chest begins to ache, thrumming against your ribs. It isn't until you put your hands over your face in an attempt to get rid of a thin layer of sweat, do you realise that you were smiling.

When he calms down, he keeps looking at you. "I take that you made the submission?" He presses, knowing well that you were intending to put off the matter from the dodgy look in your eyes. "Right?"

 Before, Jisung stubbornly pressed on the matter, it was unheard of for you to allow your writings to be read by anyone other than yourself; it was only fiction, your little secret, you reason, even though you knew the underlying cause of your unwillingness was that you simply cannot take rejection well, it is truly terrifying but an automatic reaction to think that your work is boring and somehow unworthy of praise every time  you are on the verge of sharing it. Your parents never showed any particular interest in it and you assumed that was a universal desire. 

But Jisung is incredibly obdurate when he wants to be.

 Sometimes, you think he's the only person in your life who's truly honest with you, he doesn't shower you in false accolades, not hesitating to rip the band-aid, to point out the less likable bits from the likable ones even if he knew it would make you unhappy. It was interesting prying your wounds open around him, he wouldn't suppress his thoughts and blurt euphemisms like it's going to be okay, he would grimace and gag and then he'd clean them, he would sit patiently with them and try to dress them up for better - and somewhere along the way, while you may have cared about other people's opinions, your concern for what he thinks of you is starting to become far more significant. And it petrifies you.  "No." 

Jisung shoots you a look of annoyance, staring at you like he's awaiting an explanation. You can sense the lengthy talk coming from the back of his throat, something which surpassed the regular limits of you should do this and you shouldn't do this, he relentlessly pushed you towards your career which you claimed you were passionate about but needed his stern berating often when you would stagger back in indolence and you'd be lying if you said it isn't effective - albeit, the scoldings sometimes led to the two of you bickering back and forth, giving each other the silent treatment until one of you would cave - whatever it was, you know you could never turn down Jisung, even if he was bruising your ego to ask you to get your shit together.  "Why not?"

 "It's just a stupid draft, Sungie..." You laugh nervously but he doesn't give into the fit like you imagined, instead, he just dons a solemn look on his face, something that seems to show that he'd been peeved by your response.

  "No it’s not." He shakes his head slowly and there's sort of a firmness in his retort that surprises you, far from how he usually jokes on about,  that tells you there's no room for argument, "It's not stupid at all."

Jisung tears his gaze away, his expression softening once he notes the worried look on your face, it's as though he had suddenly changed his mind about the lecture he was surely planning  to give you,

 "Look I don’t want to fight.” He sighs, “You’re always talking about how much this means to you and if it’s something that you really want, don't put it off. I'm your friend, I can only encourage you — but at the end of the day, it's your job to pull yourself up. Goes without saying that it’ll be a complete waste if you don’t pursue play writing because you - and I don't care if you don't agree with me -  really do have a lot of potential.”

You blink in wonder, ”You think so?"

 "I know so."

 You don't remember the last time someone said something like that to you, if at all. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re met with the inability to shake the feeling of craving something you don't want to understand, mired in your own musings and for no particular reason but to avoid the desperation of confessing to yourself of the warm tight feeling inside your belly - you give into the temptation of placing your palm over the nightlight, watching the light turn from bright yellow to muted blue, it stings slightly. 

Too cheesy, you would groan out under any other circumstance where you hadn’t been so fazed.

Instead, you just gulp, eyes wide at his forward comment, his praise is the equivalent of being splashed with ice cold water when one is half asleep, now you're all wide eyed and incognisant of what's real and what isn't, it prompts a jolting sensation to traverse all throughout your body, "Thanks." 

This scene was no exception, Jisung tips his head back against his palms when he's thinking about something, while keeping his calm gaze posed on you, he smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself, loosen up just a little. I'm not always gonna be around.”

You muse that your mum said the exact same thing when you moved away for university but chose not to mention it, it's not true though, you want to say. Because Jisung is always there for you.

 See, the universe exists on this dreadful thread of balance  and you've been hanging on by your last finger for as long as you remember, taking every step on the basis of a fear of tumbling off to be greeted by the gasps and complaints of an imaginary audience, for the longest time, picturing  your play to be dissected like a lab rat, for a delirious critic to point their scalpel and announce, the misshapen heart is here, that's the pudgy head.

But nowadays and you'll never tell him this, when Jisung talks about you  like that, you almost believe it, believe in yourself and don't think he understands what it means to you, how grand that is  -  to imagine seeing your play come to life, something severely intimidating about watching it, spotlight gingerly kissing up the actors' newborn faces as the audience spews quiet comments, critics' expressions morphing with  nuanced understanding, the anticipation is tangible, the walls closing in by the second, tension squeezing the air out of their lungs -  until the curtains part and a story draws them into another world. Then everything falls into a formidable silence.The inexplicable feeling of being one wrapping its limbs around everyone and cradling them to its chest like a loving mother, awestruck strangers listening in on the heart wrenching dialogues, the belter of a riveting tragedy prompting their hearts to lurch forward and sit on their tongues, then they'll look around, spot bits of you in your characters and think I'm not alone. I never was.   (The people you've both never known but known your entire life.)

It's better to slip, to put everything on the line for the sake of making way to what you want on a feeling rooted deep inside your gut than to cower behind the fear of disapproval and have nothing at all. Being brave enough to tell your story is not the absence of that fear which keeps you, but it is telling the tale despite, toppling that fear.

There's something relieving about that theory.

 "I want to lie down..." You mewl, in spite of already lying down. It's a sign of how the constant toiling through exams was finally taking a toll on you, the sleepiness coupled with hours long lethargy from the party seemed to be weighing your body down, making your eyelids heavier by the second. He moves your hand, leaning into the light. A wash of colour is spreading  across his face for a brief moment, exposing the skin to scrutiny, all veins, curves and crinkles around his eyes. Jisung smiles at you. Your eyes dart all over his face, resting on the curve of his mouth briefly, then his eyes, you catch the yellow flickering in them , the brown turning to dark copper. 

Your heart drops to your stomach when he blinks away slowly, the disappointment assuaged by something foreign, dumb and utterly clichéd stirs in the pit of your stomach as his thumb briefly swipes across your knuckles,  "You don't say, sleepy girl!" Jisung scoffs, bringing his arm under his head.  

Unconsciously, entertaining the thought of staying alone in his room, you find yourself feeling safer because of his presence instead, divorced from prying eyes, "Thanks for staying." You say, wanting to talk to him more and more,  contemplating fashions  to contribute to the conversation again and again just to cut the silence.

"Well, you had a lot to drink." 

He reminds, as if the reason for his staying is that obvious;  worry laced in his voice and you understood why -   even though you aren't completely doused in a state of inebriation, you kept swaying all the way upstairs.

"But you missed out on.." you drag the consonant unintentionally, "all the fun, though."

"Do I look like I care?" Jisung snorts, staring up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands and dropping down against the bed, he laces his fingers together over his chest, digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. It isn’t a question.

His wallpaper is of a kid gazing up from the water, he peers up at the camera, grinning ear to ear. This is definitely Jisung. Because even with his front teeth missing, his smile is all too familiar. His cheeks were chubbier back then, face rounder, softer around the edges. Subconsciously, you rose a finger to poke at his cheek, as if to examine it. Jisung shoots you a glare.

"You were cute."

You coo, leaning onto his shoulder, the closeness should not intimidate you, given the amount of time you spend like this. But it does anyway.

"What do you mean were?” Jisung scoffs, “Nu-uh, still am. I'm the resident cutie pie, if you will."  He sings, narrowing his eyes briefly, thereon chuckling at the look of sheer disgust on your face. 

You wrinkle your nose, "I can't believe you just said that..." 

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable quietude, except for the times when either of you perk up to initiate conversation and Jisung gives you aspirin for the throbbing migraine. 

Your shoulders are touching. Jisung breathes. Slowly. Then fast. Then slow. And then he tucks an earphone into your ear, it was an unspoken ritual you two practised when you were alone, oft in a different venue, sitting languidly about campus, while you read and he winked through the glaring sun to get a distant view of the landscape.

Jisung yawns, the grapple on his speech loosening and loosening.

You remain quiet, closing your eyes again. Words feel liquid in your mouth, letters wobbling on your tongue until you feel like you've lost complete control over what you're thinking of saying.

You can see the scene unfolding inside your head, can feel the earth under your skin, can hear birds chirping, can feel the dusty orange, morning glow kissing your faces. As if you're the only two people there. "Coldplay, right?" 

"Uh-huh..." Jisung replies, he sounds unsurprised by your aligned tastes. You look at him and find that he's mirroring you. His long lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks, eyes clamped shut. 

"It's beautiful..." You murmur, dropping your head back against the mattress, you think Jisung hums in response but you can't be too sure. It's like you're slowly, slowly and slowly drifting far, far away. Letting slumber wrap its welcoming arms around you. 

For a second, you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten, you imagine that you're soaring, soaring, soaring, like you could look down and see the rivers and seas and lakes pulsing against the  Earth's body, as though they were a bundle of nerves belonging to a round, green vessel of a body, and somehow - then immediately, you're being pulled to your feet, at great speed, you're falling, falling, falling - so fast that you feel like there's a fire budding inside your lungs, budding under your fingertips, inside your heart. 

Then it begins.  This must be a dream, this must be a dream, this must be a dream. The soft murmur of scripted words. Parted curtains, an open window allowing you to stare in wonder, dusk stretching across the entirety of the landscape, blue, then pink. You think of the big sapphire sea, the warm sand and someone waiting for you before it.  You think, this is it. This is it. This is it. And run, run, run. Sprinting to the broadening view. You recognise the back of his head, the curve of his neck, tufts of raven hair fluttering about, his white cuffed shirt, his footsteps like a trail of breadcrumbs, feet dipped in frothy water, You call his name, surprised  but think I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all along. He looks back and smiles at you, offering you his hand. (You're not over him. You don't think you ever were. And this is what you want, you want it so bad, after all this time, are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back?)

Just for a moment, in the split of a second, just now,  just once, you aren't afraid. 

You jolt awake, the earphone straining against the sudden movement, "Hey." You whisper, looking up at him. His Adam's apple drops with a slow gulp, the rosy colour of his parted lips. The slope of his nose. You don't know when you  nuzzled your face into his chest, his long arm is draped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.  Your heart is beating noisily in your ears, on your tongue. 

To your surprise, Jisung hums in response, eyes still clamped shut. You're so close, just so close, he brushes his slender fingers against the back of your neck, the touch feather light, as though reminding you that he had heard you. Your breath hitches inaudibly.

"Let's..." You say, with your tongue starting to limp inside your mouth, "go to the beach sometime."

...

A shower is running, loud, water gushing down and thumping against the tiles, the sound echoing and growing thinner by the second. 

You sit up on the empty bed, the recollection of last night lodged deep inside your head like a butcher knife. 

The realisation that you aren't at home isn't startling as you momentarily grow distracted in examining the room, the photos, the turntable, the white paint, the portraits, a light adjusted above, bits and pieces of a person scattered around.

Jisung's t-shirt is discarded carelessly on his reading table, your eyes widen when you acknowledge the occupant in the shower to be him, leaping up with a haste, everything comes back to you  with a force equivalent of pulling the butcher knife out and slamming it right back into your skull.

"It's you!" You gasp, partially  because the cheerful exclamation sends pangs of pain to your head, having made all the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find Minho whipping up pancake batter in a bowl. As opposed to his old Instagram photos, with the new complementing pink hair, his feline like features are even more staggering, eyes narrowed to amused slits, behind which beady black orbs stare you down in absolute curiosity.

"Right, we met last night." He reminds you, uttering your name quickly, finding that you already recognise him. He holds the spatula up, paused in surprise as if he really wasn't expecting to see you right now, the position only eases when you wave your hands dismissively and say it's not what you think.

  He smiles, there's a strange disappointed quality to the demand."Sit down, let's have breakfast."

It's awkward, Minho spares you a few interrogating stares while you silently dig at your meal, the sound of cutlery and ceramic sounding through the open kitchen. You wish Jisung would come down already if the floor beneath your feet isn't going to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this discomfiture.

"They're really good." You nod, shoveling more of the unevenly cut portions of the pancake into your mouth.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" 

You choke, coughing on the gigantic bite, patting your chest as you slowly as you begin to regain your composure. Minho's eyebrows are weaved upwards, hinting that he expected an answer despite offering you water. God, he cut right to the chase, you aren't used to people as blunt as that. When you don't say anything, he blinks at you, tilting his head to examine the evasive expression on your face.

"He talks about you a lot..." He notifies, as though it was an explanation for something.  Minho's arms are crossed over his chest, proudly before announcing, "I think I practically know everything about you."

Funny, you could say the exact same thing about him. Jisung likes to babble on about people he cares about, which albeit is a handful, you are just as special as any of them. And that reminder as a consequence of his constant prodding makes you a little angry. 

"Look, he doesn't like me if that's what you're trying to say." You blurt out, you don't want to get your hopes up.  It's weird saying something so grave to someone you only recently  came to know. Having already accepted your one sided feelings even though you struggle to try to suppress them and the hopeful part of you reasons that Jisung probably didn’t initiate a kiss because you weren’t exactly sober — but the real reason, and you know this, is that his withdrawal last night was just cherry on top of the  big fat I-don't-feel-the-same-way cake. 

You made the mistake of ruining your friendship because of a stupid confession in the past and you aren't going to make it again, not when you're closer than ever now.

"That's not what I asked."  Minho comments. He is pretty great at appearing intimidating. Or rather, he sees right through you. You can't tell. But he's practically cornered you with his witty questions whilst his perceptive eyes keep an intent watch on you.  Minho had a curious  quality to him when he looked at things, he seemed to notice everything.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your nape when his gaze is practically unblinking in anticipating a reaction. 

"How was your Gimpo trip?" You digress.

 Minho's ears perk up, his eyes blown to big, happy circles, he nods his head excitedly, properly distracted from pressing the previous topic further. 

The conversation fizzles away in a haze, Minho rambles on in a cheerful tone, his eyes glossed over in enthusiasm. He speaks  of his three cats and asks you to commit their names to memory with a dead serious face, moving onto ramble on about his childhood, an entanglement of being the only child who dreamed laboriously of pursuing a career in ballet and succeeded. You listen attentively, not breaking your focus even when he gets up to do the dishes. 

By the time Jisung lazily drapes a towel around his neck, all the while hopping down the stairs, you feel like you've overstayed, digging your feet into the heels from last night while Minho holds the door open for you. 

"Need a ride?" Jisung asks, standing on his toe to look at you from behind Minho. 

 You shake your head, suggesting that you were to take the subway instead, keeping your eyes fixated on your sore feet as a reminder that you're opting for the alternative not by choice but because you don't have the energy to render Sunwoo an explanation of where you'd spent the night at with his constant teasing, Tightening the strap around your leg, while balancing yourself with the free arm, Jisung's long fingers quickly grab onto the underside of your arm, letting you balance your weight whilst posing the question, "You’re coming tomorrow for the group study, right?" You ask.

 It was an uncharacteristic gesture, outright surprising, because of his renowned proficiency in that class, when Jisung suggested that he didn’t understand the volume of topics you were going over.

Jisung glances cautiously at his best friend, who has a stupid smirk on his face for some reason, like he knows something you don't, “Yeah, yeah...” He says, reaching out to pinch your cheek despite your complaint. 

“Are you an alligator?” he calls out, prompting you to shoot a confused look over your shoulder.  "What?"

It's just one of those things Jisung says instinctively, his eccentric humour getting the best of him in silences and you, well, you walked right into this one. 

 "You know...cause I'll see you later!" 

In your peripheral vision, you spot Minho pinching the bridge of his nose at the quip, muttering a quick Jesus Christ.

...

During the day, the portrait is much more confusing. 

It's carefully placed on the paper covered floor, the room smells like fresh paint and sweat. Jisung suggested that you go paint shopping in the  pursuit of looking for a suitable colour to liven up his walls and the end of the semester meant you had enough time to put the purchased product to use. 

There is a blob of red on Jisung's jaw and the colour gets smudged all the way to his cheekbone when he makes an unsuccessful attempt to itch the skin with the back of his palm. You don't tell him this. 

"I bought it from the local display." He breathes out exasperatedly, the paint roller is placed on the paper, "The artist said it was about an unlikely romance or something like that. Looked pretty dope to me too and—"

 "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigate the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. Or anything that bears semblance to it, you never did have a good eye for art,  "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

 "Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart. 

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love  meant to be understood. 

It was meant to be felt. 

...

"Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"

 Sunwoo speaks, chewing through his snack, his fringe is glued to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. You aren't surprised. The humidity is skyrocketing. A cut in your salaries have made you compromise the use of your obsolete air conditioner. It's a terribly humid Sunday morning and you're getting ready for a trip to Minho's beach house.

It wasn't hard to convince you. Such was possible because Minho's offer was reiterated through a number of ways and people over the span of last week. Even from Sunwoo. 

He and the rest of the boys have started  to get along pretty well, so well that you often end up acting as an amused spectator, simply watching the boys cosying up to one another while you're effectively camouflaging in the background of utter silence. Your friends  teamed up to produce quips here and there, stopping to chuckle into their napkins, cheeks rubicund like ripe apples whenever you went out for dinner. It was becoming a regular occurrence, at this point. Not that you minded; you genuinely enjoy the time you spend together.

As a final move, Jisung reminded you of your slurred request of wanting to go to the beach, beating the purpose of you claiming you wanted to stay home doing nothing when really you were just looking to avoid encouraging how you felt for him. You constantly found yourself suppressing the desire to want more and the last few weeks had been the toughest because you had trouble ignoring how you felt although you were careful not to show it. Jisung was spending more time with you than usual since you were on summer break and were relieved of your studies for a short while. You couldn't forget that night at his place, the memory made your gut wrench in a desire you couldn't fulfill. 

But  while it was hard being around him, you just knew you couldn't help it.

The trip was, nonetheless, a reminder of how Jisung always gets what he wants, even if it is as easy as snagging his favourite items off of the super store shelf or something which demands  more patience to be possessed, something that needs to be drawn out with unwavering persistence.  

Come to think of it, you never really understood what it means to live like that. 

"What dumb look?" You ask, averting your gaze from your phone, twiddling your thumbs for a response to Jisung's text notifying that they were taking the lead on the journey by setting off earlier than you to set up the place.

 It won't take them as long as it will for you because it's a familiar premise for them. Your arm is starting to hurt from holding up your suitcase.

Sunwoo mimics a grin, stretching the corners of his lips awkwardly and flattening his lips like that of a frog, a string of dried milk sits on his chin to finish off the impression. He points to his face, "This one."

 "I don't know what you're talking about." You roll your eyes, "Hurry up. Jisung messaged me the location." 

Sunwoo nods, then pauses, then his eyes widen, a teasing grin making  its way on his face, insinuating that he finally understood why you packed chocolate cake last minute in spite of you not having a particular preference for the item. "Does he know you have a big puppy crush on him?"

Sunwoo makes up for your social ineptness, amongst other things, and there are times when you don't understand what you'd do without him, times when you're relieved he's your friend even though you're essentially opposites - now is, certainly, not one of those times, now you wish he wasn't so close to you  to have access to this information without telling. 

"Are you hearing yourself? I don't have a crush on him." You lie, glaring at him, when your flatmate ducks his head to display that he didn't quite agree, you groan, 

"I don't!"

…

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Sunwoo pulls his sunglasses down to pretend to study you, his big brown eyes scrutinising you from head to toe.  The  strong stink of diesel is still emanating  in the air in spite of the image of the gas station being wiped out long ago in your peripheral vision. You kind of like it, it contributes to boosting the anticipation of what was to happen when you reach your destination .

"Oh absolutely..." Sunwoo says, driving in the direction of the beach house the GPS pilots him to, Lauv hums faintly from the dusty speakers, the familiar lyrics filling the air  whilst you unconsciously bobbed your head. The vague distraction allowed Sunwoo to buy time to gather his thoughts, 

 "You need to tell him how you feel before someone else does. You need to tell him how you feel, period."

“I'm not doing that again.” you warn him, he speeds down the highway, your beach hat threatening to fly about under the weight of your hands at the sudden gush of wind. "Need I remind you how it went last time?" 

"Last time was different." 

"How?" 

"You barely even spoke to each other!" He exclaims frustratedly, pointing out the obvious, "Now you're good friends and he seems to feel the same way considering he always puts up with you...like...voluntarily." Sunwoo mocks, looking at the corner of his eye to note that you're rolling your eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Jisung's out of his mind."

"I'm not that bad!" You defend, quieting down once again when the memory of your admission flashes before your eyes in vivid details - the years of distance and silence that stretched between you because of it was hard - if that were to repeat itself now, when you're more used to him that you were before, you don't think you could bear it.  Or maybe you could but you don't want to.

It's enough to just have Jisung around and not be yours than to lose him by admitting.

"I'm not putting us in that position again just because of how I feel. It's kinda selfish, don't you think?" Your statement has a touch of finality to it that shuts Sunwoo right up, he wordlessly pulls up in front of the huge beach house, another jeep and the Comet Convertible is parked; before which far off near the shore, you couldn't help but notice the two unfamiliar figures by the boys, one of them is wearing a bikini, standing incredibly close to Minho, who's setting up their small grill, the other (and it makes your stomach turn) is talking animatedly to Jisung, he nods and smiles in that way that makes you think you'll never quite stop loving him. Chan is holding up his phone to take a picture. 

 Sunwoo honks loudly,  pulling you out of your trance. You can hear the I told you so sitting on the tip of his tongue when he shoots you a look of pity. You don't like it. The way that makes you feel like a toddler who can't keep herself from sticking her fingers into electric sockets in spite of being precisely instructed not to. Now, you think, the ‘I told you’ so would've been much more agreeable to your pathetic but injured emotions.

Jisung snaps his head around fast, raising his lithe digits to the air, waving at you languidly.  The girl spectates the exchange in an engrossed fashion, slowly routing her inquiring  gaze to yours in thought. Not all that seemed black and white is black and white between you.

"Are you coming?" Jisung screams over the noise and distance, away from the spot you're completely frozen in.  

(A pang in your chest tightens. Tightens. Tightens.  And you don't want it to mean something. But it does. It does and it always will.)

...

Minho once learned to set up tepee fires in scout camp, with twigs, a small heap of leaves, wood shavings and loosely screwed newspaper in the centre. Now, he only prides his younger self for setting up the fire once in their backyard and decides roasting marshmallows on the grill demands less of the expertise that he's lost overtime.

"I've actually heard a lot about you before we met." Sunwoo garbles out, clearing his throat.

You've been ignoring Jisung ever since you arrived. Now the group is sat down on the sand, in a misshapen circle, the two girls, now you know their names and the root of their invitation - Junhee and Shoshanna are merely bypassers the boys met when they arrived this morning. They're on a weekend trip like you and their visiting resident is a few houses away from yours. You wanted to act on your peevishness  and groan out a loud What are they still doing here?  everytime Shoshanna took the seat beside Jisung or asked him to set her marshmallows but that would, amongst other things, make you look like a crazy jealous idiot who has no right to step into a situation of that sort, even though Jisung seemed hesitant, cautiously looking at you every now and then. 

Jisung's brows rise and fall, gaze darting between you and your flatmate, surprised, "Is that right?"

Sunwoo laughs, "Yeah."  He chews carefully, trying not to choke, as if the source of his knowledge doesn't need to be pointed out. 

"Only good things I hope."

Skeptical, Jisung glances at you with a cocked brow, in case you oppose but you avoid his gaze, glaring down at charred marshmallow on the tip of the stick and thinking of ways to strangle Sunwoo, who chuckles at the former's apparent doubt, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement, "Only good things."

"You're on the varsity swim team, right?" 

 With a mouthful of food, Sunwoo poses the question, the grin only widens when Jisung replies with an equally enthusiastic nod. 

"Did you know that this one can't swim?" He points his marshmallow stick at you, keeping his eyes trained on Jisung's surprised face. "I tried to  provide assistance." Sunwoo insists, "But when someone is really bad around water, like screaming at the top of their lungs-I'm going to drown in a kid's pool- bad, it's quite a challenging task."

Minho produces an animalistic laugh at this, patting his thigh like he's rendered a vivid image of your embarrassing experience while Chan shoots you a concerned look, as if sensing an underlying tension in the air that the others can't. You don’t know which one you dislike more.

"I can hear you, you know!"  You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly having lost your appetite. 

Sunwoo widens his eyes, with a hand atop his chest, mocking you,  "Really?"

You open your mouth to continue bickering with him because it was the only way you could hold yourself back from jumping across the sand and grabbing him by his collar in case that should stop him from further embarrassing you, but Jisung  interjects, blinking inquisitively at you.

 Jisung pouts. "It isn't that bad, you'll see, we can go for a swim anytime. That's what's the pool for anyway."

"Sungie,  I could use a swim now. Can we go, please?"  Shoshanna piped up jutting her lip in a way that made her more attractive, she hooked her arm with Jisung, pulling him to her side and he simply blinked at her, surprised by the gesture. Only you called him that  —  when did she pick that up? Why doesn't Jisung seem to mind at all? Are you seriously seeing what you are definitely seeing?

 Without meaning to, you imagine them floating about in the water, while she curled her arms around his neck to keep balance and him leaning down to grin invitingly.  And it feels like you're losing something.

You feel yourself jumping up to your feet. The sudden movement gains the attention of all your friends except Sunwoo, who keens on sparing you the smug grin which insinuates that he sparked the entire conversation intentionally.  You hope the universe would miraculously  render you telepathic powers so he'd start to choke on the stupid marshmallow. 

"Uh...I mean...I gotta." You gulp, "I'm going to go grab a beer."

"Wait."

Jisung frees his arm to get to his feet, powdery sand dusted off of his sweats.

"I'll come with you."

You walk in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself. In your peripheral, you catch the sight of his pockets swelled around the area he stuck his fingers in, you don't think Jisung's ever been that quiet. It makes you feel guilty. You're acting out because you simply can't get a grip and it seems to have taken a toll on him. You want to punch yourself in the face.

 It's not like you desire to stand in the way of his merry-making, it had to happen eventually, right? Jisung is free to get involved with whoever he pleases. He doesn't know how you feel and even if he did, you don't think he would reciprocate. 

And despite everything, your heart still aches for him. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jisung  tells you. There's a sadness to his voice that supplies that you can't escape this conversation because you simply cannot stand it when something prevents him from being his happy-go-lucky self. But you can delay it. 

You pull the fridge open slowly, scanning the items, alcohol, milk and a few other things that are necessary to spend the weekend. They definitely were newly bought. 

 Jisung pushes the fridge door wider, sighing, he pulls a can and hands it to you. "If this is about the girls, I'm not-"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sungi—I mean, Jisung." You stare down at the perspiration collecting between your fingers and  the can, then set it down immediately in fear of it slipping out of your hands. Jisung stiffens at the transition, a faint look of pain flashing in his eyes. What did he do that is so wrong? 

You feel horrible for making him feel bad, aren't you supposed to be an adult? Aren't you supposed to have a strong grapple on your emotions? This isn't good for the two of you, you don't want to hurt him because of how you feel, Jisung needs you to be his friend and you can't accept, even after so long, that that's all you are to him. 

 "I don't think we should be friends anymore."

"What?" He purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why?" He provides, raking a frustrated hand through his hair when your mouth parted instead of giving him an answer. "Did I do something? You could have just talked to me about it but..." He muttered shakily, repeating, "Why...this?"

Jisung glares at you, he looks so clueless, angry, blatantly hurt and  it's such a selfish thing to ask of him, the least you can do is be honest with him, though you couldn't fight the annoyance from seeping into your tone because he apparently had not a clue. 

"God, don't you see it?!" You placed a warm hand against your forehead, "I'm...in love with you...I love you, okay?"

You start to panic when the tense expression melts into his  features, replaced by something you couldn't put a finger on, "Don't get me wrong, I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything. It's stupid, I thought I was over you but I'm…I'm not. And I can't...I can't watch you get on with someone who isn't me, especially when…" you trail, preparing to admit the truth to yourself once and for all, "...you don't already love me back. I can't...It'll hurt too much…" 

"So...I think...it's better for the two of us to not continue this friendship anymore." You gulp, your palms shaking by your sides, those words have been taking refuge inside you for too long and saying them makes you feel empty, like you've lost something that keeps you grounded and you'd be aimlessly floating about for the rest of your life. 

"I know I'm asking for too much…"

Jisung interrupts you with a wry laugh, the sound startling you. He never spoke to you that way, not even when you argued before.

"Yeah, you're right, you are."

"Well, I'm sorry."  You breath out. 

He leans closer so your hip presses against the cool counter. He drags his fingers from the exposed skin of your collarbone to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb while the remaining digits splay against  your throat, "Sorry doesn't cut it." 

 The kiss sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to straighten up from your slumped position. Your knees feel like jelly, like they could collapse any minute. Jisung deepens the kiss, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip, he props you up on the counter and you sense yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging on to his hair to draw out a groan from him; touching him feels so surreal, even though it's a reminder of just how real everything that's happening is. 

"I…" he breathes heavily, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I didn't know what to do with how I felt and seeing you again...it just made me realise that I couldn't ignore it anymore. There were times when I couldn't help myself, I felt like I needed to see you when I couldn't, so I did, even if it meant I had to lie. I love taking care of you. I love our dumb inside jokes and I love the way we can't go long without talking. Hell, I love everything we do together." He chuckles, "But I didn't say anything because you told me you were over it. I... just assumed you were only interested in being friends with me." You don't think you've properly registered the sentences, maybe it's the suddenness of it all, maybe it's because you've never actually pictured this. You told yourself, this is how it's supposed to be, that Jisung was never supposed to feel the same. Just with that alone, you had axed your own foot, screwed yourself over more than anyone else did.

Jisung's face breaks into a sudden grin, he pecks your pouted mouth. "But I'm glad I was wrong." 

"Did you just kiss me?" You joke, touching his face, tracing your fingers against his cheeks, the skin glossy and pinkish under the touch, his pupils are blown to large black circles, the brown in them barely visible. 

"I don't know, did I?" Jisung deadpans, narrowing his eyes jovially. 

 He eases into the embrace when you slump against him in a tight hug. The chuckle comes out all muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Hmmm, can't be too sure."

You wrap your arms around his neck, it's like you just can't stop smiling. When you think about it, that's what being around Jisung was like, really. Your digits traverse from the side of his jaw to cup his cheeks, eyes peering into his. You watch as he blinks incredulously, there's something impatient about the way you look at him. Then you tilt your head and kiss him, gathering a faint taste of chapstick whilst your tongue prodded at his bottom lip. 

A low moan thrums against his chest, his mind failing to produce a single coherent thought. Because, God, he knows exactly what you're doing. 

This time the gesture is needy, desperate, as though to convey a strong desire to be completely consumed by him,  to be ruined by him. You raise your hips to brush against his lower abdomen, eliciting a low groan from his throat. 

"Baby not here." He breathes out, gauging your intention whilst resting his forehead atop yours. His palm traces the skin of your thighs, travelling up your sides, a free hand which rests at your neck coming to rest at your jaw. His delicate thumb journeys upwards, tugging your bottom lip out and then slowly retracting the digit. Somehow, the gesture makes his eyes darken even more, if that's possible. "Let's go upstairs."

You're so breathless and shocked and have your head stuck way  so far up  up in the clouds that the statement sounds imperceivable. "What?" You blink dumbly, with your hands on his shoulders.

A husky laugh made reverberates inside his chest, "We can’t...here."

As if on cue, you whimper needily at the weight of the implication. The thought of what is to unfold upstairs making your throat close up. You understood the purpose of his statement, the rest of the boys would soon gather into the beach house because it was getting dark soon, the sky was gargling its throat in the distance too, it would rain and neither of you were keen on PDA.

Jisung's teeth graze along your throat, his fingers around it to keep your head pressed to the door while your thighs are snuggly bracketed around his lithe waist. His need is apparent when he grinds up into your body. You're all but putty under his touch.

It's dark. But you can still make out how absent the room's paraphernalia is, just a bed which is stripped to the bare essentials of a white blanket and scratchy sheet, giving away the fact that visits aren't made too often. You don't care about all that though, Jisung pushes you back against the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head before resuming his position on top of you. 

You can't understand how you kept away from him for so long. 

...

Between your short, bitten and misshapen fingernails, the word Premiere reads on the tickets  in bold red slanted letters. 

You can't believe what was once a figment of your imagination, a rubbish script you wrote whimsically on too much caffeine and too little sleep was going to unfold right before your eyes.

It's crowded inside the subway, you stare at the heads, faces, shirts, jackets, arms and legs and your heart is beating too loud, like you ran a marathon or drove a sports car way past its speed limit, rammed it into a tree and flipped it over.

 All the world's a stage and all men and women merely players.

(You should be scared, you should be scared, you should be scared.)

 Delicate, lithe fingers quickly travel down your palm to squeeze the tense digits at the end, his free hand is rubbing circles on the back of your neck; you stare into those brown eyes and without really thinking, press a quick kiss to his pouting lips, it's difficult, he keeps grinning against your mouth but you pay little attention to those things now. 

"That was a good move, champ." Jisung winks briefly, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he nuzzles his nose against yours, "You always kiss people on the subway?"

You grin, with a slow shake of your head, "Just the hot ones."

(This is a stage. And the passengers are waiting. The Tale Of Two Cities. The couple. The mother. Like that nightmare you used to have. 

But, you think, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore. 

Because you've got your silver lining.)

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Captain I see you have requests open🥺🥺🥺🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 if you don't mind can pretty please have Akaashi angsty to fluff if you can if not then only fluffy🥺🥺🥺🥺 it can be smau or written which youd like and can it please be the 15❤️❤️❤️❤️

The venomous wavelengths shooting through the high school hallways did not begin quietly. The sound erupted without warning the second the status of your relationship with Akaashi Keiji was revealed. Although, no one was truly interested in you, the problem was who you had chosen as your partner. The setter for Fukurodani’s boy’s volleyball club was titled a prince of the academy, sharing that title with the captain, Bokuto Koutarou. But the titles thrust upon individuals by the student body did not hold much weight to someone who had moved to the school recently. And it would hold no weight to someone who merely wanted a friend, but accidentally discovered much more.

“Hey, y/n. You okay?” Concern decorated Akaashi’s delicate features, a sight that had the power to bathe your heart in temporary relief. If only you could bottle the properties of his affection for later use, that way you could survive the emotional hits that were awaiting you once he left for class.

“I’m fine.” The response has become automatic at this point, requiring little mental process. It had been two weeks since you had acquired a target on your back. And Akaashi was blissfully unaware of the whispers that were casually transported from one mouth to the other. The commentary was never meant for his ears. Every time he emerged from the crowd to join your side, the conductor would silence the orchestra, with each player obediently complying.

You should have told him about it; you knew that. But instead you chose to battle the storm on your own. Akaashi had other matters on his mind – why would you add to the numerous anxieties that fogged the space around him?

“I’ll see you after class, okay?” The limited pain relief his presence granted you was used to present a confident smile. As always, you would ease his worries, just the way he eased yours.

“Okay. But if something happens, or you need me… Text me.” The way he scanned your face flooded your stomach with nausea, yet the smile remained plastered, unwavering.

You would be his courage; you would be his strength. You would deal with the worst that was thrown at you. And you would show them all that you were enough, even if they didn’t deserve to find out.

While the insecurity may have begun small, not much larger than a single droplet, it quickly morphed. The emotion contaminated more and more, until your entire body was compromised. Things would have been easier if you had a friend, someone to confide in. Someone you could lower your fists around. It also did not help that Akaashi continued his inquiry into your mental state. As more time went on, it became harder and harder to swallow the bitter words. Afraid to taint him with the blood of your words, you continuously shook off his questions, smiling to conceal the substance inside of your mouth.

While the goal stitched into your armour was commendable, it was equally foolish. And Konoha was the first one to pierce through the shield you had adorned.

“You don’t have any friends here outside of us, do you?” The male was drenched in sweat from practice, yet instead of joining the others in the showers, he decided to provide you company as you waited for Akaashi.

“Are you trying to insult me?” Raising an eyebrow, you shifted your weight against the doorframe. Konoha was one of the few third years who made a considerable effort to speak with you, and you appreciated it.

“No. It was an observation from a worried friend.” He studied your change in posture, toying with the volleyball in his grasp. Although, he almost dropped it when he caught the alarm striking your features.

“I’m okay.” You tried to package it with a sturdy tone, but the wing spiker didn’t seem to buy it.

“Yeah… I’m not Akaashi. I’m not gonna believe that.” The answer was offered after he stole a glance over his shoulder. “You know I hear them too? The things they’re saying.”

“So, let them say it. If people want to talk shit, they can. It’s how high schoolers are.” A weak shrug brought your shoulders to raise and drop.

“True enough, but that doesn’t mean you need to deal with it alone.” The additional emphasis on alone made you twitch involuntarily. Weakness was not to be shown, and yet you were unable to maintain your façade around him.

“He’s already got so many things to worry about. I’m not going to add to that.” Casting your attention aside, you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“Alright, so lay them on me instead. If you can’t rely on your boyfriend, at least rely on a friend.” Releasing the volleyball in a fluid movement, a grin pushed at the corners of his mouth.

“That sounds nice.” Puzzled, the reply escaped your lips softly.

“Cool. We’ll talk later kid.” Proceeding a step away, he gave you a thumbs up motion before sprinting off the court.

And for the first time in awhile you remembered that your armour was not skin, you could remove it, and sometimes you should.

The conversation that occurred at the gym led to a confession of the feelings you were suffocating in. Upon hearing the cruel reality you were the protagonist of, Konoha vowed to help you. For the following weeks, if Akaashi was not present to subdue the pain, Konoha was. His terrible comedy was enough to distract you from the poison your fellow students were trying to inject you with. And when both boys were unavailable, the wing spiker would ask his other friends to accompany you.

It was a start. You were finally able to begin to collect the shattered pieces of your soul, all without bleeding in the process.

However, withholding information from your boyfriend would not come without a cost. And with your changing relationship with Konoha, a new wave of uncertainty had been cast onto your relationship.

“Have fun at practice, Keiji.” Extending your toes, you pressed your lips against Akaashi’s in a fleeting kiss. But when you settled back onto the ground, the setter wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you mounted into the spot ahead of him. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

“Do you still have feelings for me, y/n?” The question visibly pained him, the small wrinkles in his forehead illustrated his stress.  But the signs of agony were replaced with relief when you stared up at him in disbelief.

“What? Of course, I do.” Planting your palms on either side of his face, your chest constricted. At first you wondered if the rumours had finally reached his ears – did he think your love wasn’t true?

“So then, why can you tell Konoha-san what is hurting you but not me?”

The question did not eliminate the strain weighing on your chest, instead the sensation increased, with guilt adding to the mix.

“Keiji, I don’t want to burden you.” It took every ounce of courage you could gather to keep you from turning into an apologetic mess.

“That’s not fair, now is it? Your feelings will never be a burden to me.” Exhaling softly, he relocated his hands to cover yours, before guiding your left palm to his lips.

“You say that but…” The warmth from his kiss soon spread across your body, dissolving the armour you were desperately clinging to.  

“Won’t you let me be there for you? What if I ask very nicely?” Tilting his head, he blinked slowly and thoughtfully down at you. A tactical move really. 

“…Keiji. I want you to be happy. I want to be your safe place. I want to be strong for you.” The explanation sounded like a low whine, partially stripping the seriousness behind the words.

“I want that too, y/n. Let me be your safe place.” His irises naturally were drawn to the pout registered upon your mouth, and he had to resist the urge to kiss you. “I know in the past you had to deal with everything on your own. But for the present and the future, I want to be there beside you. Your problems are now mine.”

“You know, you really are a prince.” Defeated, you shook your head then blew out a heavy sigh.

“Your prince.” A dim smile graced his mouth as he pressed his forehead against yours. Instinctively, you sought to capture his lips with yours but the emergence of another person forced you to stop.

“What’s going on here? If we’re doing a group hug, I want in!”

Upon recognizing who the voice belonged to, Akaashi quickly released your hands and whipped around to face the Ace.

“Bokuto-san wait-”

But his instructions were dismissed by the Captain, and within seconds a larger person joined your embrace, bringing the three of you onto the ground. Laughter filled the corridor as Akaashi tried to keep Bokuto from squishing you with his weight. The setter mouthed an apology, prompting you to shake your head with a smile.

Maybe this would be enough. Maybe you didn’t need the entire school to know your worth. As long as you knew it, and those you loved did… that would be enough.

A/N: My sweet baby bodyguard, I hope you liked this! I kinda put some heart into this one, idk. ;-; 

General taglist: @haikyuufairy  @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @dreamstormings @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @ivsahi @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui @neobakas

Bolded means I can’t tag ya, and if you would like to be removed, please message me! ~

[myjjbaby]

okay so the idea is reader taking one (or many) of jj's shirts without asking him, and every time he sees her with one of his shirts on he's like 🥺🥺 and finally she says she likes his smell and wears them because of that and idk some fluff (sorry if this is bad it was just an idea i had)

white t-shirt

author’s note - this kinda deviated from the original request but it just happened because your girl is angsty. happy first time writing in a month to me!! (apologies in advance im rusty). thank you to lisa @angellissy for being my hype woman as much as im yours because this wouldn't happen without you so. couple folks who i love who asked to be tagged so: @baby-bearie @dpaccione (taglist? yes or no? someone want to teach me how?) please also know that even as my dash returns to normal and im writing this doesnt mean ive stopped or anyone else should stop advocating for black lives matter so please do all you can loves :))

synopsis - requested by @strkydrw! JJ isnt used to public affection and it creates a wedge between the two of you. which JJ isnt about to let happen.

warnings - mentions of anxiety, smidge of angst, and a swear cause i felt like it. 1.7k of comfort!boyfriend!JJ

JJ Maybank was not one for public displays of affection. He was so used to going it alone that he couldn’t fathom someone wanting to love him for the whole world to see. You were okay with it, really you were, it was just something that made the blonde who he was.

Through your time together he became more lenient. A short peck in front of the Pogues or rough fingertips brushing the skin of your waist when your shirt rose up at a kegger. He loved you and that’s all you could ask for.

But to say you weren’t needy for his affection would be a complete lie. Curling into his side at the Kook’s walk-in movie, being able to love on your perfect boy for the whole world to see, but little hand touches were enough for you if it meant JJ was yours.

You had a bad day. A crap day. Everything that could’ve gone wrong, did and now you want your boyfriend. You needed JJ’s arms to wrap you up and push all your worries away. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

You were at a party at the Boneyard, like most summer nights on Outer Banks, and your personal security blanket was far too busy by the keg to take notice of you. Pope was sitting next to you on a piece of driftwood. The sweet boy had a knack for reading you and the Pogues like an open book. He could spot your glowering from just about anywhere.

“Pope, I’m fine.”

“Yeah and I’ll leave you alone when I believe you.”

“Pope,” he glared at you, “okay, okay.”

The two of you settled into a calm silence. Pope sipped at his plastic water bottle, which Kie had already ratted him for, and you fiddled with your fingers, relaxing at JJ’s smile in the distance. A frown slipped over your features just as quickly as your sweet smile had appeared.

“Y/N?”

Turning your head to the dark skinned boy, you appreciated his concerned smile but honestly you’d rather bask in your misery alone if you couldn’t have your blue-eyed boy.

“I’m gonna walk home,” Pope’s eyes followed your movement as you stood, “tell JJ for me?”

Now he knew something was off, though you and your boyfriend were never outwardly affectionate, Pope knew of the silent love you shared. The fact you didn’t want to tell JJ you were leaving nor grasped the opportunity to squeeze the blonde’s hand was unsettling.

He watched you slip away, staying out of the firelight so JJ had no chance of catching your departure. He waited until you disappeared over the dune and started your short walk back home before practically bounding across the beach and gripping JJ’s bicep.

“Woah Pope, quite the grip there.”

“Y/N went home.”

“What?”

“Y/N left.”

The blonde quickly scanned the sandy beach, eyebrows furrowing when he didn’t find your familiar figure. He glanced back at Pope.

“Do you know why?”

“She seemed upset.”

“What? Why didn’t sh-”

“I don’t know, but that’s not the point,” he flicked the side of JJ’s head, “the point is that your girlfriend needs you so bust a move.”

Pope barely got the last words out before the blue-eyed boy practically sprinted through the crowd.

You were a mess by the time you reached your familiar grey house with tears streaming down your cheekbones as the screen door slammed behind you. You pushed your way through the house, feeling your legs ready to give out under your weight.

You slipped out of your clothes and goosebumps rose across your skin, the summer breeze chilled against your tanned skin. Pushing your jackets and sundresses aside in your closet, you reached for the worn white t-shirt tucked behind the rest of your clothes. The stained Pelican Marina shirt was one of your prized possessions. JJ had asked you about the article of clothing before saying how he lost it and wondered if you had seen it.

You denied everything.

The t-shirt always calmed you, the smells of the salt air and JJ’s weed, it made you feel like you were curled up in his hold. With just his shirt on, you slid under your blankets and pulled the knitted fabric to your chin. You tried to ignore the wetness of your skin and the pinch in your chest that even JJ’s aroma couldn’t solve.

You were so distracted by your waves of emotions you nearly missed the soft revving of the motorbike in your driveway. Your heart clamped when you heard the soft murmurs between your boyfriend and your dad as they undoubtedly worried about your off demeanor.

“Y/N?”

Your breathing felt erratic as you quickly closed your eyes, praying you wouldn’t have to admit anything to JJ. You waited for him to leave after a soft sigh slipped through the crack beneath your door, but instead you heard the familiar creak of wood against rusted hinges.

You silently thanked your past self for laying down with your back to the wall because you knew you’d crack under JJ’s crystal gaze. Willing your lungs to settle, you felt his familiar warm touch settle over the fabric of his shirt you were wearing. The soft movement of his fingers kneading into your back nearly caused a whimper after longing for the boy’s touch for so long.

“Baby? I know you're awake.”

Mentally cursing your boyfriend, you rolled over to your side as JJ pressed his body closer to yours, practically laying on the bed now.

“Hi.”

“Hi sweet girl.”

He sweetly pressed his lips to the tip of your nose, smiling against the skin when he felt your cheek against his hand warm up. The blonde tried to pull back to admire your flushed features but you hid your face in his neck. You smiled when your actions emitted a chuckle from the boy which filled up the silence in your room.

This was what you wanted more than anything. Your perfect, loving JJ holding you close and kissing you tenderly, but not like this. You wanted to feel adored outside of the safety of closed doors and four walls, but that wouldn’t happen. You pouted at your ruined daydream.

“Hey, hey,” JJ felt your frown against his tanned skin, “baby, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Y/N…”

“Really, it’s nothing, J, can we just forget it?”

“No.”

“J-”

“Tell me.”

You stayed silent, breathing in his presence, the pinch in your chest finally releasing.

“Baby, please?”

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“What?”

He pulled away from your touch as he frantically searched for some kind of explanation in your eyes.

“Sweet girl? Why would you ever think that?”

“You’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You have to force yourself to kiss me in front of your friends and you won’t talk to me, much less touch me in public. It’s like I’m dating different people, JJ. The boy I fell in love with and some guy who’d never give me the time of day.”

“Bab-”

“No,” you sat up, letting his once comforting arm slip off your body, “I had the worst day and everything was too much and I just needed you. I need you, JJ. But I didn’t even want to tell you because I was scared you were going to brush me off. I don’t want to have to think twice before going to you, I shouldn’t have to but I jus-”

You were cut off by a harsh sob that was building up in your throat throughout the day. The weight of everything pulling you down for too long. Your cries, however, were quickly muddled as JJ pulled you into his warm, taut chest. His pillowy lips pushed against your skin, shushing you in comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Baby, I’m not embarrassed by you. For fuck’s sake, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to it, I guess. You love so proudly and the fact that I have you is overwhelming. I’ve never done this before, loving someone. I wish you had told me, sweet girl, I love you so much, angel. So much and if you need me to hold you or kiss you or whatever, just tell me, okay?”

You nodded against the soft fabric of his navy shirt, your sobs giving out to breathy whimpers. It was peaceful like that, the room completely dark except for the moon and stars shining through your curtains and your boy holding you tight as you laid on his chest. You leaned back to stare at his serene facial features and watched as he fiddled with the hem of your clothing.

“Baby?”

You hummed, settling back into the crook of his neck.

“Is this my shirt?”

“Umm, maybe?”

He felt your skin heat up against his and smirked, trying to catch your eye in the dim light.

“Why’d you take it?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted you with me when I couldn’t have you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweet girl, I like you in my clothes. And you can always have me, okay?”

You hummed again, drowsiness forcing your lids closed. JJ shivered as your eyelashes fluttered over the smooth skin of his neck.

“What do you think of wearing this to tomorrow’s boat day with everyone?”

He mumbled into the night, smiling at the idea of you laying out with his shirt announcing you were his, but his suggestion went unanswered because your were already fast asleep in the comfort of the blue-eyed boy’s arms.

[asherlockstudy]

Uncomfortable close-up to their Valentine Newlywed answers

Since Rhett was a tad reluctant to compliment Link sincerely I decided to use my psychoanalytical skills (anyway whatever) and seek the underlying honest answers they wanted to give. This could be a bit much at times and perhaps you shouldn't read if you are not a Rhink shipper, that's why I used a cut.

"What he loves about me" Link's expression is a little confusing - maybe an attempt at doubt or self-deprecation but it looks to me more like the embarrassment of the blushing bride.

"I love your..."

Who wants to bet that the first thing that came to Rhett's mind was ass but then he changed it to the first word that came to his mind after ass? A-ccent. Like, there's just no case accent was the first thing he thought because Link's accent isn't even that strong at this point. When Link got surprised at that, Rhett simply replied that he was trying to find something funny. But even so, like I said earlier, Rhett does love Link's accent. I am sure he is fond of it, he finds it adorable. And let's not forget he said "there was so much he could choose from"!

Link looks disappointed that it's not his guess, his eyes. An interesting thing here is that although he used a personality trait for Rhett, he expected / hoped for this physical trait for himself. But don't feel sorry - Rhett has talked about his baby blues and has even gone to the ridiculous extents of planning to make a blog exclusively for Link's eyes. So don't worry; it is known that Rhett at least acknowledges the beauty of Link's eyes. At least. And Link was expecting this from a place of knowledge and not as an attempt to be silly-sappy.

Things Rhett thinks Link loves about him:

voice (Link will later say he loves his laugh and this is close, he's also enchanted every time Rhett sings so...)

height (Link once said he is attracted to "people of extreme heights")

hair (we know that)

beard (lie detector test)

giving spirit (lol totally)

creativity (they've talked about this many times)

eyebrows (if Link has said he likes Rhett's eyelashes then liking his eyebrows is certain)

Rhett was guessing from a place of knowledge too.

Rhett then said he loves stories of Link's grandma doing weird things with him and I don't like being the weirdo to spell out the weird thing but Rhett's interest in that is vaguely associated to his weird mind being always in the gutter. I don't mean it turns him on of course but he loves hearing weird stuff that border on creepy. You know it's true. Sometimes he's like that. Link took revenge for the accent joke with the psoriasis.

Wow we saw some Rhett teeth. Link answered sincerely with a super cute "I love your laugh" but Rhett just said "I love the sound your mouth makes when you don't chew". Oh well. Link regretted being sincere and Rhett, after some good laughter, defended himself by saying "he (Link) walked himself into it". This makes exactly zero sense and I am wondering whether he meant Link walked himself into it by choosing the vulnerable / sincere way. Or if he just didn't know what he was talking about.

Rhett then asks for the next answer to be complimentary. He then repeats he has strong feelings about Link's accent. Again, I believe this! In a positive light. IDK, I do believe this. Link said he has strong positive feelings for Rhett's car which I found weird like Rhett because I thought it was established Link has the better car of the two. Who knows, maybe he lied about the positive thing. Unless he connects it in his mind with memories / experiences.

Link's guess a little later:

Link: If I wanted to, I could easily... start over.

Rhett: Start over?! Like, whole life?

L: ...Yeah, just like, get a re-do.

R: Huh.

L: And I would be like "Really? How?"

R: Mmkay. I said "If you wanted to, you could easily kill me".

Okay, this gets a little deeper. I think what initially Link meant was a joke about starting over regarding his relationship with Rhett. Rhett didn't get that and asked him if he meant his whole life. Link considered that "mmyeah..." and realised it wasn't that far off from what he meant, all jokes aside. Link does wish he could start over and redo many things in his life. This surely has A LOT to do with their religious upbringing. And maybe how it affected Link's choices. Stevie's laughter is so out of place sometimes. Rhett does not laugh and tries to rush this moment. Rhett's answer about Link killing him is not exactly weird or offensive or mean as I saw some people consider it. It shows, maybe subconsiously, several things; Link's intensity, Rhett's pliable nature especially to Link and it might be more indicative of how Rhett feels about Link than anything else, at least in this video.

And then, out of nowhere, or maybe so it seems to us, Rhett goes ballistic against everyone. He starts complaining about those complaining when they didn't give each other heartfelt compliments. Link joked he agrees with them. Rhett attempted to let this slip although it angered him. The crew laughed with Link's joke, meaning they kinda sided with him, and Rhett turned basically mad at Link.

He accused Link that he did the same that day and Link entirely deflected the conversation. All I'm gonna say is that don't think they don't communicate with each other about how they approach certain situations. I wonder if at times they misunderstand each other or one changes opinion suddenly and leaves the other hanging. Link tries to stop Rhett from going on but Rhett is unstoppable at this point.

You might say Rhett was straight out mean right there and I sure was like "whoa where did this all come from, man" but mean is not a reasonable explanation. He was angry and his words show he is in a pressured state. Unless you tend to have mood swings, which Rhett doesn't really have as far as I know, you don't go from all cutesy and mischievous to furious in milliseconds. Except if there is an underlying suppressed cause. And you may ask, okay does he feel pressured to say a compliment to Link? Is this such a big deal? Well, yes and no. I don't think Rhett meant "we're not gonna hold hands" or "compliment each other" when we ask it. I think we know what he means. I think he's talking about the - well, in his words - elephant in the room. The actually serious consideration that there is something more there. The expectation that it might get revealed at any point - whether intentionally or unintentionally. Rhett loses control at that moment, which is why Link, who knows him well, warns him to not go there but Rhett still does. And again, you might say: well, no fan asked them to kiss or to confirm anything! We asked them simple stuff that can be normal between platonic friends too. Yes, but there is something we don't take often into account. The mythical crew. The mythical crew are actually the ones who monitor closely what the fans believe, want and prefer to watch. This means that the crew has to inform and discuss with Rhett and Link how much they are gonna please the audience and in what ways. Which means that a crew of 50+ people have an elaborate opinion on what fans think of Rhett and Link's relationship (next to their own opinion of course) and this has to be communicated with them face to face. In short, Rhett and Link have their privacy invaded not only by the fans but by their employees and, moreover, they are forced to always have fun with it and take it lightly. Again, you could think: well, they could forbid any rhink reference to the crew from now on. And you would think this WOULDN'T make the crew MORE suspicious at this point? All I am saying, they are fine when they make rhink insinuations / jokes voluntarily but most of the time is forced upon them by both the fans and employees and this can be uncomfortable at best if they are just friends or tyrannical if there is something more there that they still keep for themselves. So, Rhett's frustration comes from a deeper place than being expected to give a compliment. If I were in their place as I imagine it (I could always be entirely wrong) I would feel like a muppet trying to balance all my reactions towards thousands of people, with several dozens of them being paid by me to scrutinize me and order me how exactly to act!

There is a cut following Rhett's vent and you can see that Rhett is trying to calm himself down.

He speaks to himself, mumbling "yeah alright yeah ok ok" and by the expressions I can tell he acknowledges he lost control. That doesn't mean he regretted what he said - just that he said more than it benefits him to say and apparently he said a lot more in the unedited video. Kudos then to Link, who actively tries to calm his friend down and make him feel more comfortable.

This might be unpleasant to some but from his stance I conclude that Link agrees with Rhett or at least understands him. He was just wise enough to not say it out loud. Link first warned Rhett to not speak and then stayed quiet as Rhett was venting. After the cut, we see him trying to help Rhett calm down and relax and he characteristically invites Rhett to focus his attention on him and find something he really loves about him. This is not a complaint - Link is smiling and is warm to Rhett. What he essentially does is trying to help Rhett forget he is being watched by thousands and his every word is weighted, which of course is Rhett's main problem. He just says "forget about them and focus on me and just say something you love, it's all good". I just love Link here. He's supportive and caring.

The next question is what Link loves when Rhett blanks his blank and Rhett is trying to picture it-

I have no doubt Link loves that. The ear thumbing, I mean.

So, then I am adding the stills that redeemed Rhett in the fandom:

But not to be that person, it's obvious that Rhett plays it up a ridiculous lot. And not even to appease the angry fans but probably to make fun of their anger. That's why Link laughs with his face and his answer "I love remembering the time we met".

This doesn't interest me at all. Instead, I am much more interested in Link's nonsensical answer "I love remembering the time we died" because what?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Link tends to say occasionally stuff that doesn't make sense but I don't think he would pass on the chance to say something even remotely meaningful in an opportunity like this and especially regarding his relationship with Rhett. Link clarifies: "...when we died. This is heaven". There are two possibilities and only two: a) this makes ZERO sense and it's the worst and most pointless joke ever and b) this is symbolic or something only Rhett could understand. Rhett does not dismiss this as stupid or silly with his usual done look. He asks questions about it and they discuss at length about how it happened that they died and why they went to heaven since it seems they killed each other. Well, it's because they killed each other in the exact same time with a prod-like tool and they escaped Good Ol' God's (in Link's words) notice. Okay. I'm just leaving this here and you can all draw your own conclusions. Personally, I am torn between a symbolical death and rebirth when they left their religious selves behind and death being used as a well known old metaphor of a certain physical state. It would work even more if it was both. Or Link was just talking nonsense. Let's not exclude that. So yeah. That's all I had to say................

[venomous-ko]

Wine Drunk while watching Godzilla vs Kong

Some major spoilers up ahead!

Mans really just annoyed the shit out of his coworker until he left so he could hack shit, huh?...I love it! 🤣🤣

——————————————

You mean to tell me that the explanation for why Godzilla attacked the one tech company site by the dude who studied Kaiju communication and behavior for a living is just, “sometimes people (and creatures) change”???? Like some dumbass justifying a toxic person/relationship??? Like excuse me???? Why are the literal teenagers making more sense than you?????

Also, we’re all in agreement that this facility is either housing Ghidora’s dead head, Mecha Godzilla, or Mecha Ghidora, right?!?

——————————————

Lol! “Apex Cybernetics!” That’s not foreshadowing! 🤣

——————————————

Apparently, I didn’t get my fill of white nonsense from Falcon and Winter Soldier, bc someone decided to put this blonde-hair-blue-eyed little bitch in charge! That’s not ganna go wrong somehow. 🙃😑👀

Like this bitch literally wanted to send a fucking child into unexplored hollow earth territory without a second thought! 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I was literally like 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 for that entire convo.

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I’m sorry! This conspiracy man just met these teenagers, and his first impulse was, “yeah, theses seem like some good people to break into a tech conglomerate with!” 🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

Why are these people surprised Kong knows sign language? These are people who study Kaiju (and presumably other animals in order to draw conclusions about certain behaviors) for a fucking living!!! We have primate species that recognize and communicate in sign language already! Why is this surprising???!?! Like...has NO ONE except this precious child tried this????

Also, nothing bad better happen to this child.

——————————————

That ship literally fucked around, and Godzilla let it find out! Lmao!

——————————————

Kong: Hey, Godzilla...look at me...

Godzilla: >:[

Kong: ...bitch.

——————————————

Precious girl: Thank you, friend 🧏🏽‍♀️

Kong: ☺️😴

THIS GIRL IS TOO PRECIOUS!!!!

——————————————

Bitch-ass White Man: How’s Kong with heights?

BITCH, you really ganna try that?!?! You really think you ganna find any aircraft(s) that are ganna be able to support all that weight?? Never mind any other problems with Kong trying to nope the fuck out of that situation and all kind of other hosts of problems!

And if you do somehow have one (or multiple) WHY TF DIDN’T YOU USE THAT BEFORE KNOWING FULL AND WELL YOU RAN THE RISK OF GODZILLA MERCING KONG’S ASS IF YOU TRAVELED VIA SHIP!?!?!?!

——————————————

Down the Hell Naw tunnel we go!

——————————————

“I think it’s romantic,”

I fucking love Millie Bobbie Brown’s character!! 🤣❤️🤣

——————————————

WHY IS THIS TEENAGER SMARTER THAN EVERYBODY OMG!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“This is page one in the ‘Playing God’ handbook, right?”

I’ve decided I love this character! 🤣

——————————————

WHY YOU GETTING INSIDE THAT THING—Oh god! 😨 Why y’all got eggs!?!? This is like if Weyland-Yutani succeeded in getting Xenomorphs! 😬

——————————————

Oop! Locked in! THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T HIDE OUT IN MYSTERIOUS ROOMS!!!!

——————————————

Oh shit! Apex Cybernetics think they on that Wakanda shit now!

Also, why was that one Apex Cybernetics bitch bitching about how one of those HEAV crafts could power Vagas for a week if y’all clearly have a whole network or transportation using this tech!

And I never understood how tech companies kept that shit to world domination shit! Build a public transportation system with that shit! Boss man said he likes ideas that make him rich! Pretty sure that would do the trick!

——————————————

WINE BREAK!!!

Saving the rest of the last bottle for coking Gumbo, so gotta open up a new bottle

——————————————

Aw, Kong is so sick of this bullshit! 😂😭

——————————————

“It’s not working”

Bruh! Give it more that two seconds!

——————————————

HOW DARE Y’ALL USE KONG’S LOSS AGAINST HIM!!!! HOW DARE Y’ALL!!!

——————————————

HEAV go Brrrrrrr Shoooooooooooom!!!!

——————————————

LMAO!!! Monarch has their own brand of bottled water!?!?! Idk why that amuses me so much!

——————————————

This hallow earth portal thing is some Pacific Rim bullshit right here, lol!

——————————————

NYOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM

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Are we...are we really Ice Age: Dawn of Dinosaur-ing this shit rn??? 😂😂😂

——————————————

“It’s beautiful,”

Of course it’s beautiful! No hoomins have touched it! Lol

——————————————

Y’ALL GOT FUCKIN DRAGONS IN THIS BITCH!?!?!?!!! 8D YO!!! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!!

——————————————

*marvels at the creature creation ideas*

——————————————

Kong’s first thought: *nom the dragon guts*

——————————————

THE ROCK HAND OMG IM GANNA CRY!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 It’s the same gesture the Precious Girl did OMG!!!!

——————————————

“We going in?”

“Yeah”

The BALLS on this child!

——————————————

“AAAAHH 😐”

*fear*

LMAO!!!!! I’M FUCKIN WHEEZING!!!

——————————————

“Sacrifice Pit”

OMG 🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

I KNEW IT!!!! MECHA-GODZILLA MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! 8DDDDD

——————————————

YO PACIFIC RIM RAN SO MECHA-GODZILLA COULD FUCKIN SPRINT!!!!!!!!

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YO IT’S A GOOD THING I AIN’T SEEING THIS IN THEATERS BC I’D BE FLIPPING MY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Humanity, once again, will be the apex species,”

THERE it is!

——————————————

Why Mecha-Godzilla so skeeny?!? He need ta be thicc if he ganna take down REAL Godzilla!

——————————————

*Ryan Bergera conspiracy voice* Is this the real reason Kong was contained!? So this douche could snatch up Skull Crawlers without Kong intervention???

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! I think this thing is emitting alpha waves (or whatever we’re calling it) and THAT’s what set Godzilla off!!! He fought Ghidorah, heard this shit and went, “Nu-uh, bitch! NOT AGAIN!!!”

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Monarch dude: Yo, Godzilla’s headed to Hong Kong for some reason?

FUCKIN CALLED IT!!!

——————————————

This look like the door to fuckin General Grievous’s lair,da fuq?!? 🤣🤣🤣

 ——————————————

I got waaay too emotional over that handprint, y’all! 😭😭😭

——————————————

Y’all, the fucking art history major in me is fuckin screaming at this temple scene! The fact that some of these Kaiju not only had the urge and drive and capacity to build a fucking temple around this power source or some shit and create weapons like the axe that Kong just fucking Excalibured the shit out of that one skull crawler’s skull fucking implies the fact that there is intelligent civilization amongst these fucking Kaiju and all that shit! I want to know more about this shit! Take that you fucking racist-ass white historian motherfuckers!

(Note: I definitely needed to use talk to text for much of this bit, because there was no way I was going to be able to contain all my excitement in just typing, alone, lmao)

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BRUH!!! Why y’all exiting g the HEAV without no breathing apparatus or lead suits or nothing!?!?! In previous movies, y’all implied that these Kaiju lived in environments in which their environments were hella radioactive compared to our own!!!

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Kong is s the true heir to the iron throne, Lmao!

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FUCKING CALLED IT!!!! THEY HAD GHIDORA’S REMAINS IN THERE SOMEWHERE!!!!

——————————————

OH FUCK!!!! Y’ALL AINT JUST SENDING OUT ALPHA VIBES WITH YOUR MECHA-GODZILLA!!!! YOU SOMEHOW USING GHIDORA’S HIVE MIND OR TELEPATHY SHIT TO DO IT!?!?!?! AAAWWWWW SHEEEEEET!!! Y’ALL ARE BONED NOW!!!! FUCKIN BONEROWNED!!!!

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Godzilla! My bruh! My dude! You didn’t HAVE TO get up right where that bridge was!!! 😂😂 Ya douche bag!!!

——————————————

At the same time, tho, I can just hear him going, “Ah! FUCK! NOT AGAIN!!! Sunova bitch!! Motherfuckin!! STOP BUILDING sHIT SO DAMN HIGH!!! Goddammit!”

——————————————

You know, with all the Bright twinkly lights in Hong Kong, I can’t help but think of the sequel to the original Gojira movie ( that I can’t remember the title of ,rn) where he was fucking triggered by fucking lights. And I wonder if this little scene where he’s stomping all through Hong Kong is a tribute to that or whatever. But I’m probably overthinking it.

[Sober Edit: it was Godzilla Raids Again]

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*GASP* HOLY SIHIIIT!!! The axe is made out of Godzilla skute!?!?! GOLY BALLS THAT’S NOT ONLY COOL BUT CONTRIBUTES MORE TO THE FACT THAT THESE KAIJU (likely Kong’s species, in particular) WERE REALLY FUCKING INTELLIGENT AMD TJOUGHT, “Imma beat this muthafucka with their own spiky thing! Bc that’s what screws us over, so, why WOULD’nt it hurt them!?!” I need SO MUCH MORE of this Kaiju/Kong culture studied and shit! HOLY FUCK!!!

It even fucking glows!! Like ... they managed to fucking piece together that its glow was a fucking warning sign like Sting or some shit!!!! Holy fuck!!!!

Also, how does that work? How are the skutes still connected even after dismemberment???

 ——————————————

NO FUCKIN WAY WRE YOU—AAAAAAAAHHH!!! Excalibur that shit my boi!!!!

——————————————

I FUCKIN LOVE YHIS MOVIE HOLY SHIT!!!

——————————————

“ that’s Apex property now,”

Excuse me bitch! Are we really not gonna listen to the scientist who saying “hey we don’t understand the shit out of this fucking power! Maybe we should hold off on taking some fucking samples!”

Are we really just gonna ignore that shit???????

 ——————————————

Kong said: TRY ME BITCH!!!!

——————————————

Oh thank the GODS this Serizawa dude is taking precautions like his old man! Also, what is his relation to Ken Watanabe’s Serizawa!?!?!

——————————————

UH OH!! SOLDIER DUDES GETTIN ATE!!!

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! PILOT JUST GOT ATE!!! FUCKIN DRAGON BASEMENT UP IN THIS SHIT!!!

——————————————

BITCH YOU REALLY GON THROW A ROCK AT IT!!! FUCKIN NONSENSE OF THIS BITCH!!!

——————————————

LOVE AND FITE ME ENERGY IS STORED IN THE ATOMIC BREATH

——————————————

“Shoot him!”

WHY!!!???!! He literally had NO problem with you before then!!!

——————————————

Why does white man who don’t know anything about this vehicle suddenly know how to pilot this shit!???!?!!!!!

 ——————————————

Y’all love had SO MUCH wine!

——————————————

The FUCK this dude got a flip flop phone for!!!?!????!!!?

Da fuq!?!?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 yeah that’s the most unrealistic part of this entire fucking movie! Not the fuckin Kaiju robots. Not the fucking hollow earth bullshit! The fucking flip phone! LMFAO!!!!

——————————————

“Maintenance! I’M MAINTENANCE!!! This bitch ain’t buying it”

That made me laugh WAY FUCKIN harder that it should have!!!!

——————————————

Y’all really ganna try to shoot at a kid!?! REALLY!?!?!??!

——————————————

GAWD, I’m so glad I impulse bought these oatmeal bites from Dominos! 🤤😋

[Sober Edit: I have no idea how my autocorrect managed to convert “Parmesan” to “oatmeal,” but okay! 😆😅]

——————————————

Kong be like, “Hey, bitch!!! You lookin’ for me!?!?”

——————————————

Find you a partner that bites your neck like Godzilla does! Lmao!

Sorry, I’ll be crawling back into my hell hole, now.

——————————————

EAT YOUR FOOKIN VEGETABLES GODZILLA!!!!!

——————————————

Did Godzilla just axe throw with his fuckin teefs!!!????!?!?!

——————————————

THIS IS THE FOOKIN MONSTER VS MONSTER FIGHTS IVE BEEN CRAVING SINCE KING OF THE MONSTERS HOLY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Really? Groupies, again?”

First of all, again!?! What happened last time???

Secondly, where tf are YOUR grpupies, asshole! No need to judge! Ya cunt!

——————————————

“There can only be one alpha,”

Really! You really gotta bring your toxic masculinity into a fuckin monster fight, my dude!?!

——————————————

Kong said, “Yeet! YEET SELF!!!”

——————————————

I am living for the feral fight scenes!!!!

——————————————

Kong’s expression , tho! 🤣🤣🤣

Like, “Can you ducking NOT, Godzilla?!? Can you, like, fucking chill??!!? Aight, fine! ASDASHKLSDJKLDZJL ADKLKDZDJ!!!!!!”

——————————————

Awwwww! Godzilla let Kong go, bc he knows what it’s like to be the last of his species! 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭

——————————————

“This is how we [...] win!”

Oh, honey, you ‘bout to die! Lmao! 😂

——————————————

Oh god! I knew he was going to use the sign for “coward” at the most inappropriate time! Lmao! At least the Precious Girls is smart enough to know what Dumbass White Man means, lol

——————————————

Oh, thank god we do t see this dumbass in any sequels!

——————————————

Dammit, he escaped!

——————————————

This girl is too good!

——————————————

Did y’all really think you were ganna break into a semi-sentient Mecha-Godzilla by GUESSING ITS FUCKING PASSWORD!!?!?!?!!!!???? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

YEAH!!!! TEAM-UP COMING THROUGH!!!!!

——————————————

“I was hoping to die with adults, but that’s okay,”

🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“I’VE GOT TO DIE WITB YOU AND SOBER!!?!?!”

GOD, I love this movie!!!!

——————————————

OOOOOOHHHH HOLY SHIT!!!!! 😱😱😱😱😱 He powering up the axe!!!!!

——————————————

YOOOOOO KONG WENT PREDATOR/YOUTJA ON MECHA-GODZILLA’s ASS!!!!

——————————————

Kong said, “I’m done, y’all! Imma take a nap!”

——————————————

“Dad. Uh...Bernie.”

I fucking love Bernie!!! 😂😂😂😂

——————————————

JIA NOOOO!!! Don’t go running between two disgruntled Kaiju bby!!

——————————————

Yo, why do monsters have less toxic masculinity than we do??? Lol!

——————————————

Yaaaaaay! Kong has a new home!!

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WELP!!! I fucking loved this movie, and I highly recommend it to everyone!!!

[my-writings-and-musings]

hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33

I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!

Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.

Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.

Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?

But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?

You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.

But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.

But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?

You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.

"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"

Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...

You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?

"Whirl? Are you okay?"

Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.

"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...

"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.

"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"

Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"

"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.

"Amica?"

"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"

"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.

He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."

It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"

"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."

"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.

"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."

Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"

"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"

Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."

Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"

"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.

"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"

It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.

"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.

"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"

He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."

"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."

"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."

If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.

"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"

It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.

"Lets."

Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.

The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."

It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."

He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?

You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.

Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.

"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.

He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.

"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.

You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."

"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.

"Today, tomorrow, and always."

Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.

"Can we hug?"

"Hug?"

"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."

It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.

"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.

"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?

"Take your time."

"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.

"Hm?"

There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.

"Thanks."

[calpops]

one night | l.h.

In which you spend one night away from Luke and your babies, but he’s got it all covered—he doesn’t have a ‘world’s best dad’ mug collection for nothing.

1k words

hemmings family intro

Copyright © 2020 calpops. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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“Babe, I know,” Luke said and cut you off amid your explanation about what to do while you were gone; how to care for your three daughters. “I’m their dad not some newly hired babysitter.  And it’s only one night. I’ve got it.”

“I know,” you said around a sigh but still a nervous energy lingered within you. “But—it’s just—I’ve never left them overnight before. And you’ve been gone for promo for two weeks. A lot can change in two weeks!”

Luke grinned in good jest at your small spiral and the worries that plagued you; knowing they were only created from being a good parent.

“And I called every morning and night while I was away. They’re still the same three little girls they were two weeks ago. Except one of them got a haircut… oh which one was it? What’s her name again?” Luke teased and pretended to ponder as you rolled your eyes but picked up your overnight bag nonetheless. You knew he would take care of them, how much the girls adored him but weight still felt like it sat on your shoulders.

“I’m just gonna miss you all,” you admitted and felt that weight start to lift at the realization.

“You’ll be back in the morning, you won’t even have time to miss us,” Luke responded.

“That’s not true.”

Luke smiled and shook his head back and forth. “Go, have fun. I’ll hold down the fort. I am the world’s best dad—if my mug collection has any merit.”

He won you over with a laugh and bid you one last goodbye with a kiss. You’d already said goodbyes to the girls; knowing you might not leave if you said them at the door.

As soon as the door shut Luke turned, scoped out the living room where the girls were sprawled out among the couches with Petunia and their new cat Mini. They didn’t like that you left and Luke knew he needed to keep them busy.

“Run!” Luke yelled animatedly to get their attention as he clapped a hand over his eyes to indicate hide and seek was beginning. “One, two, be careful, three, four.”

He heard scattered footsteps padding through the hallway, likely headed for the bedrooms, goggles echoing and little shushes coming from Lyla as she tried to corral her younger sisters. He counted to thirty out loud, one hand covering his eyes while the other tapped against the countertop in time with the numbers.

“Ready or not here I come,” Luke warned at the end of his counting. He headed for the hallway, paused at the line of doors and tapped a finger to his chin. “Where are you?”

The question was rhetorical, meant to show he was nearing.

Leo’s voice rang out. “We’re under your bed!”

“Leo, no!” Lyla squealed as Luke laughed and opened the bedroom door, spotted a small hand peeking out and waving from under the bed.

“Hi daddy!”

“Hi little one,” Luke greeted his youngest, knelt down to the ground and tapped her hand, welcomed her as she crawled out from under the bed with a broad smile. “Got one, now how about my other two?”

Luke heard Lyla and Lettie’s sighs as they slid out from under the bed but brightened when they joined him and Leo.

“Next time we hide by ourselves,” Lyla chirped but didn’t tell Leo off for blowing their cover. His girls were much gentler with each other than Luke’s brothers had been as he was growing up. He admired the love and affection they had for each other so naturally.

“No more hide and seek,” Lettie exclaimed through a pout and Luke realized she was never quite so fond of the game. She would never be it—threw a fit if elected and cried to be outside with her flowers instead.

“No more hide and seek,” Luke agreed and wracked his brain for new ways to spend the day.

Outside was promising, the sun was out but white clouds drifted by in a calming breeze. Flowers were blooming and he knew Lettie would love to wander the garden. Lyla would happily accompany her twin around the grounds and steal Luke’s phone to take as many photos as possible. Leo would enjoy a gentle swing on the swing set. They headed out without any fuss, only Petunia was slow to rise and clamor her way out the sliding glass door. The day was peaceful; lunch was rated outside and Luke made sure to prepare it exactly to their likings. Peanut butter sandwiches; no crust for Leo, cut diagonally for Lettie and crunchy peanut butter for Lyla.

Once the sun went down the evening was spent inside with take out dinner. Princess movies were watched while the girls painted Luke’s nails and eventually collapsed into a pile against him for a nap that had him carrying them off to bed. It came as no surprise when they all woke in th middle of the night and climbed into bed with him.

You came home to a clean house. Whatever Luke and the girls had gotten up to in your absence as cleaned up and put away. Not one dish was left in the sink. Not one toy was abandoned on the floor. Petunia didn’t stir when you walked in but Mini greeted you with a rub against your legs and small meow. The house was quiet and you wondered if they were still in bed or had left for the morning. The girls rooms were empty but you stopped short with a smile as you saw all the loves of your life piled into the big bed, all snuggled together with breakfast in their laps.

“Saved you some,” Luke said as he spotted you and waved you over.

A muffin greeted you and coffee was set on the side table. You grinned at the mug proclaiming world’s best dad and knew it to be true—always had and always would; but reminders like these amplified the meaning and made your heart swoon.

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[unstoppableforcce]

dark side

—PROLOGUE: the first mistake

“we are rarely proud when we are alone”

pairing: Javier Peña x reader (narcos)

next part | masterlist

a/n: ooo so this is the first part, but idk if I’ll keep writing more for him or not. all I know is that narcos is a damn good show, I’m enjoying my rewatch and I love pedro pascal

The second Stechner got up from the stool next to him, he knew he needed something more than just whiskey to quiet his mind for the remainder of the night.

He knew coming back to all of this was going to take its toll, hell, his dad had practically foretold it that night, sat in the truck halfway up the driveway. He expected the weight to pull at his shoulders, he expected there to be some form of consequences for all the bad he had done in a futile quest to do some good, he just didn’t know exactly how much it would all hurt his head to have it all drudged back up.

Every street he passed looked remarkably similar to the one Carrillo had dragged the young boys into, pulling the trigger to make a point. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded of the souls that met their end a part of a war that spiraled too far out of control far too fast. And everyone in the embassy seemed to know that it was all his fault.

Half wouldn’t say it, too busy regarding him as more myth than man. The dashing DEA agent who took down Escobar...

The other half only spoke of it to hold it over his head. The man who is responsible for setting los pepes out on Colombia should be in jail...

And they brought him back for what exactly? So Stechner could use him as a pretty face and solid name for the surrender he already had organized before he even signed the forms to bring him back down? What was he even doing there?

Was he just paying his dues? Was there enough money in this disgusting world to even cover the debt he created when he played his role in bringing down this country’s most notorious drug lord? Was there enough good left to be done to make up for all the bad that bloodied his hands?

Staring at the whiskey in the bottom of his glass, it was hard not to see a phantom hand, bruised and bloody, grasping the glass just over his own hand. He had been so naive back in Texas to think that coming back and jumping straight into what he left behind would somehow make the ghost constantly looking over his shoulder disappear.

No, he needed more than whiskey for any sort of reprieve from that haunting spirit.

He glanced around the bar, searching for someone to help and surprisingly found many candidates on what had been a pretty slow night when he first walked in.

There were women dressed like they were looking for what the same thing he was, there were women who worked at the same place he did, but there was only one woman in the whole bar who sat in the same silent suffering he did. Furrowed brow narrowed at the bottom of the glass in hand, giving the brown liquid an occasional swirl around the ice for no reason other that to occupy the probable onslaught of thoughts within the mind for a second longer than even the whiskey bought.

You were the only person in the whole bar who looked like you were going through something even close to what he was currently working through. All of which made you the only one he wanted. At least, that was what he told himself as got up and made his way towards you and settled onto the stool next to you, nodding to the bartender for a fresh drink for himself and for you.

“No thanks.” You waved to the bartender first, then turned to him and repeated the sentiment still in perfect Spanish.

“Sorry,” he nodded, still accepting his new drink and keeping the stool next to you. “You looked like you could use some company.”

That brought an almost heartless chuckle from your lips as you brought your glass back up to down the final sip. “I prefer my company silent”

He returned the same cold laughter, “funny.” You glanced to him and quirked your brow but he just continued, “me too.”

And silent was how the two of you stayed until he finished off the rest of his drink, laid money on the counter and offered to take you home. There was nothing silent about the two of you once he got you pressed up against the door to your apartment however.

Each sloppy kiss he trailed along your neck line seemed to echo in the dimly lit hall, each grab of his hands along your body causing the keys in your hand to rattle despite your desperate grip on them to keep them silent. And by the time you turned and began working on the locks, his groans against your skin had become anything but silent despite his best attempts to muffle them, his hands still pulling your hips back into his while you worked to undo the several locks you had.

And in the morning, he was going to wish he had paid more attention, but in that moment, all he cared about was that the taste of your lips was making him forget for the time being.

All he wanted to do was forget.

His suit jacket hit the floor the second the two of you stumbled inside, quickly followed by yours as he kicked the door shut with his foot and found the nearest wall to press you up against. Your hands found the bottom hem of your shirt before he even considered making a move for it, your body leaning back from him to whip the shirt off and over your head before reconnecting your lips to his.

The disparity of your touch was nearly familiar, though he was all too sure he would remember if he had ever met anyone like you before. No, this was a different type of familiarity, one that was more like looking in the mirror than it was seeing someone again after such a long time. As the tips of his fingers danced down your arms and stomach, he caught a few scars here and there and took that to be the only explanation he needed.

In the morning, he was going to wish he paid more attention. He was going to wish he thought with his head and not the quickly hardening length between his legs, but in the moment, he didn’t even have access to the part of his brain he needed to think that rationally.

The need to forget was too strong, overpowering everything in its way as he placed his hand above your head to steady himself while your hands moved for his belt and saw the same bloodied phantom hand grasp around it.

It was easier to bury it into your hair than to look at it for too long.

He repeated that over and over as he moved you to the nearby couch and settled your bare legs over his lap. It was easier to lose himself in you than to really look at you. He said it again and again as your silence turned to hushed moans into the side of his face. It was easier to feel you than to think about why he was so desperate to.

And as his hand reached up around your throat to coax the final string of curses from your lips as you clenched around him, he reminded himself again, that this was easier. He could deal with the real consequences later.

Except the consequences didn’t come later, they came much too quickly.

When he woke up still pressed against you on the couch a few hours later and got up to search your apartment for a cigarette, he found a badge and gun in your purse, which both you and he had tossed so carelessly aside the night before, instead of a smoke. He couldn’t stop himself from flipping the leather foldable open to reveal your face, which he only barely recognized, and three very important letters next to it.

CIA.

“Fuck.”

His brain still muddled with whiskey could sadly still read, and now all he could think about were all the things he had been so quick to ignore in favor of forgetting. The locks, the scars, the same look in your eye that he often found in himself when he stared at the bottom of his own glass of whiskey...

You were even in the bar where Stechner found him to catch him up on the plan he was working to bring to fruition... what were the odds that this whole night was a fluke?

What were the odds he went home with a CIA agent out of a sea of women who would have gladly filled their beds with him? What were the odds that it was some of the best sex he had in years? What were the odds that this wasn’t going to come back to haunt him...

Stechner was hell on two legs and all the badge said was that you worked for him, you were apart of the organization playing games with a country on the verge of a crisis. He was organizing a surrender for the leaders of a murderous empire and you... he glanced back to the couch where you laid, still alseep and half-wrapped in a blanket where he left you, unsure of everything he ever knew.

There was no way this ended well for him if he stayed.

And he almost forgot, while still holding your purse in his hands that he didn’t find a cigarette. A lighter but no cigarette. Why the hell was he trying to quit again?

Rubbing at his brow once, he shook his head and sat your purse back onto the counter, moving now to collect the clothes strewn about the entrance to your apartment.

He was out the door before you even stirred awake with the name he got off your badge repeating over and over in his head all the way down the stairs and back to his apartment.

It was a stupid mistake, and while a part of him held onto a sliver of hope, thinking that once he left he’d never see you again, every other part of him knew it wasn’t true. That just wasn’t the kind of luck he had. Not when he had done all the things he had done and damned his karma to hell ages ago.

So walking to the ambassador’s office the next morning and finding you waiting just outside with Stechner at your side, it really just felt like he deserved it.

It was just his luck, wasn’t it? This was just what he deserved...

“Fuck.”

—

tags->

(if anyone is interested in being added let me know)

[hitsuackerman]

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.13

a/n: hohoho the drama ensues :’)

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @demursv1ogs​ @chrisrue15 @beanst0ck  @parttime-simp​ @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 14

Was it actually them?

Blinking a dozen times, they were still standing in front of the room.

The same blonde hair with sharp red eyes. Messy dark green hair with matching soft green eyes. Both of them stared at you with utter disbelief.

If this were any reunion, it would have been amazing and bring a sense of relief. So why did seeing familiar faces cause your chest to tighten? The first instinct was to look at Akaashi but with clenched fists and a tightened jaw, it was something you couldn’t do. For the first time in a while, you activated your quirk and relaxed yourself.

Noticing how your mouth was agape, Akaashi looked at your fist. Seeing how one was faintly glowing, he couldn’t help but recall all the descriptions you had told him. Spiky blonde hair with an angry look plastered on his face, there was no doubt that was Bakugo from your world. The one with softer features and tiny bits of freckles was Deku. Breathing in a little deeper, he found strength to look away and focus on the two exchange students.

‘Shit…’ Those were the words that ran through your mind. Trying to think of possibilities as to how and why they found themselves in this world was beyond you. Startled at the sudden poke from Akaashi, you accepted the small piece of paper on his hand.

Everything will be okay.

Meeting Akaashi’s gaze, you pocketed the note and exhaled. Your quirk was not working but his small note was enough to clear your thoughts for a while. If anything, all you wanted to do was to run into his arms and feel his warmth but for now you deemed it best if the two boys did not know about the pretty setter.

When the bell rang for the free period, you stood up and stopped Akaashi from following you. With each step you took towards them, your heart beat increased.

“Deku? Bakugo?” Your voice cracked but it couldn’t be helped.

Standing from their seats, Deku was quick to turn and hug you. Hugs from Deku were no surprise but the hesitation on your part made him let go and hold onto your shoulders. Bakugo eyed you from head to toe before scanning the classroom. Each person all looked like extras to him.

“Is there any place here where we can talk in private?” Deku asked.

“The rooftop is a good option.” You had to answer. Gesturing them to follow, you could feel Akaashi’s stare as you three left the room.

The walk was silent and quick but when the sunshine hit the group you braced yourself.

“D’you have any fucking idea what’s happening?” Bakugo asked as he leaned on the wall and placed his hands in his pocket. Red colored orbs waiting for your choice of words.

“Fill me in.”

“As of the moment, your body is in a coma. Everything about you is stable but your brain activity is showing constant activity.” Deku explained. “You’ve been locked in the clinic for two months now, (n/n).”

Two months? Did time move faster here? Remembering how you felt before finding yourself in this dimension, you deduced that you had fainted and ended up being a vegetable. The concern now was what were you supposed to say or react to the news? Anything you say could be used against you and Akaashi.

Akaashi. Your heart was aching at the thought of what might happen next.

“How did you guys get here?”

“All Might helped us.” Bakugo cut off Deku. “How long have you been in this hellhole?”

“It’s not that much of a hellhole, in all honesty. Everyone here doesn’t have a quirk and crime isn’t all that bad.” You wanted to shrug but that would only make things worse. “How’s everyone?”

“Everyone’s doing well but Todoroki isn’t...”

“Half and half keeps insisting that you’ve been communicating with him through your quirk.” He stood up straight and took a few steps towards Deku and you. “Why’d you stop?”

“I never felt a response.” It was a lie but held some weight. No matter how many times you tried to flicker your quirk, the response never came. To the point where you simply gave up. Or was it because you began to favor living here?

“How many months have you been here?” Bakugo spoke slowly which was new for you.

“7 months, turning 8. Time probably moves faster here.” For a moment, all three of you were silent. If it weren’t for the bell, you were almost certain that Bakugo would have noticed how you were less enthusiastic about their arrival. Though, the walk back to the classroom was a bit stressful, you made sure to avoid the third year classrooms. Ultimately failing when you were now heading down the stairs.

“(y/n)-chan!”

Of course it just had to be him.

“Bokuto-san?” You put on a fake smile. One that made him stop in his tracks and squint his eyes. “Are you having free period?”

“Yeah! Who are these two?” He pointed to the two people accompanying you.

“They’re my friends from Musutafu. They’re exchange students and I took them for a small tour.”

“WHAAA!” Bokuto extended a hand, to which both of them accepted. “I’m Bokuto, 3rd year. Captain of the volleyball team! (y/n)-chan’s our manager and she’s been doing a pretty good job! Come watch us play later if you have time!”

“Manager?” Bakugo repeated.

“Yeah! She helps in our prepping our matches and makes Aka-”

“Bokuto-san.” You butted in. “We still have classes but I’ll try to let them watch you later, okay?”

Taken back a bit, Bokuto laughed and apologized. Letting all of you walk back to your rooms, he couldn’t help but scratch his salt and pepper hair. This was the first time you ever cut him off mid sentence. He also didn’t leave out the fact that you didn’t tell them about being a manager. Turning back and heading to the cafeteria, he made a mental note to ask Akaashi if everything was okay.

By the time you three were now seated in your respective seats, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes and let out a long exhale. Grabbing your textbook, your thoughts took over. Absentmindedly, you crumpled the paper and flattened it, only to repeat the process over and over again. Feeling Akaashi poke your arm, you took the note and read it.

What happened?

Taking your pen, you scribbled a response and kept your eyes glued on your two friends. Making sure that they wouldn’t see the small exchange you two were having.

I don’t know yet. But, I’m scared.

Will you go to practice?

I can’t. I don’t want them to know about you.

If circumstances were different, that would’ve hurt. Of course, It still did. However, he knew why. The one thing he feared about you being from another dimension was coming true. Remembering their quirks, he knew he held no chances and that gave him such a heavy weight in his chest.

For the past 6 months of dating, the thought lingered but he always brushed it off knowing the chances were low. More so when even you couldn’t provide an explanation if he asked about the worst coming true. Jaw stiffening, he scribbled a response.

Where are they staying?

I don’t know. Probably near my house if the patterns are similar.

Do you think you can sneak into my room later?

I will. I planned on doing it anyway :)

All Akaashi wanted to do was to drag you out of the room and wrap you in his arms but even he knew that would only cause things to go downhill faster. Inserting the paper into his notebook, he met your stolen glance and gave a reassuring smile. One that was enough to show he too was scared.

The hours dragged and finally the final bell rang. Once all your stuff was inside your bag, you lifted your head only to be met with Bakugo and Deku. The silence between you three made Akaashi’s mouth dry. Not wanting to stare any longer, he took his sports bag.

“See you tomorrow, (l/n)-san.” Giving you a bow, to the others as well, he left the room and fished his phone out.

“Do you guys wanna eat?” You asked as the three of you headed out the room. Heading the opposite direction Akaashi went. It felt weird. You were supposed to be going to the gym and help out Yukie and Kaori. Yet here you were, walking with two of your friends. Friends whom you wished never came. “There’s a nice cafe here where we can talk.”

“Why are you so calm?” Bakugo spat out and stopped walking.

“How else am I supposed to act? If you think that I just straight up waved the white flag and stopped looking for ways to go home, then you’re dead wrong.”

“Then why do I get the feeling that you’re too comfortable…” His brow was raised and glanced at Deku to back him up.

“I’m sorry, (n/n).” He scratched his nape. “Kacchan has a point. For the past two months, your brain activity made no sense but seeing how things are, it’s all coming together now. Sero was right. If you really wanted to go home, you wouldn’t have stopped trying to communicate with us or even just Todoroki.”

“So…” Your eyes were wide open. “You’re saying you can bring me back to our world?”

“Are you implying you don’t want to be dragged out of here?” Bakugo retorted. “It’s goddamn obvious that you’ve created bonds in this place. That was the biggest mistake you could ever make.”

“Kacchan…” Deku tried to calm the boiling anger his childhood friend was showing. “Having to live here for 7 months and avoid communication is impossible. But the thing is, we need you. The sports festival is coming up and-”

“There’s a plan to rid Shigaraki once and for all.” Bakugo inserted.

“What?” As if things couldn’t get any worse.

“You heard me. If your quirk weren’t useful, I wouldn’t give a fuck but knowing with your help and strength, things might turn out for the better.” He took a step forward. “You wanted to be a hero, right?”

“Of course I do.” You held on to his gaze despite the increasing weight on your chest.

“Bullshit.”

“Think what you will, Bakugo.” You snapped back. Both boys staring at your clenched fists. Small beacons of light shining through. Despite your trembling shoulders, your quirk managed to control the overwhelming emotion of wanting to cry. “Just give me the day and I’ll…”

Behind Bakugo and Deku, you saw Akaashi, Bokuto,and Konoha enter the hallway. All three of them stared at you.

“Just…” Holding onto Akaashi’s stare, he nodded and assured you with a small fist bump to the air. Even from this distance, you could make out how his beautiful eyes drooped with sadness. “Just give me time to…”

Realizing that your focus was somewhere else, both boys turned and stared at their new quirkless classmate. The same person who said his farewell only moments ago. When Bakugo’s gaze shifted to you, he knew it right away.

“You fucked up, (y/n).” He walked past you and made sure to bump your shoulder. “Let’s go, Deku. Someone here needs to get her priorities straight.”

Once he was sure Bakugo was out of earshot, Deku held your shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

“The most number of days we can stay here is 5.” He explained. “With the machines over in our world and my quirk to sustain it, it’s the longest I can muster. But, I just wanted you to be aware that your parents signed a paper.”

“For what?” You broke away from your boyfriend’s gaze and focused on Deku.

“No matter what the outcome will be, you will be forcefully brought back to life.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?”

“You, yourself, know you don’t belong here (y/n). Everyone is awaiting your return. Todoroki hasn’t left your side ever since you fainted. Momo’s heart is breaking at the situation. You don’t have much of a choice.”

“Go to Bakugo, Deku.” You adjusted the strap of your bag and began to walk away from your friend. “I gotta do something.”

Seeing as how you were making your way towards him, Akaashi was quick to move.

“Bokuto-san. I don’t think I’ll be joining practice today.”

“Is everything okay, Akaashi?”

“Sadly, it’s not.”

- - - - -

a/n: soo... important announcement :) i usually upload every monday and my drafts have caught up with the present :( my schedule was just super duper hectic this week that i wasnt able to prepare chapters in advance :( so the next update might happen two weeks from now :( hopefully, i can fit in writing in my sched T.T im sorry if yall are gonna have to wait a little longer for this one :(

but yeah~ Akaashi’s lineup is still very much open for those of you who want to be a part of this rollercoaster!

see you in a week or two! :*

[nofliight]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by: stole it from @sternenteile​ and honestly others tbh tagging: TAKE

my muse is:  canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. [ for better or for worse, he’s THE face of kid icarus, after all. he’s a dork and funny and likeable and even if the fandom tends to get him WRONG (thanks smash bros) there’s no denying his popularity ]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. [ i don’t??? think so??? most people are too busy talking about how they think he’s like 5 ]

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. [ EVEN THE FANDOM AIN’T GONNA MESS THIS UP. MAN FIGHTS GODS. CALL THAT WEAK. ]

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. [ make no mistake - pit’s got fans and plenty of them but he’s so MISTREATED by the fandom. his character is a lot more complex than he gets credit for and smash bros in particular is a big reason people think he’s just Big Dumb Baby Man ]

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO. [ HE’S THE MAIN CHARACTER, THE CENTRAL FIGURE UPON WHOM THE NARRATIVE IS STRUCTURED AROUND, YEAH HE’S PRETTY RELEVANT. Uprising is literally made to tell the story of a war exclusively through the perspective of a single side and Pit (and Palutena) are the EMBODIMENT of that whole side. ]

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [ and a perfect one at that. he’s literally a perfect protagonist don’t tell me i’m wrong cause i’m not ]

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. [ pit is beloved by humans... and mocked by the Gods. seen by most as a spineless extension of palutena’s will, most “respect” of any variety goes to palutena while he gets treated as a joke 99% of the time... and it’s not like Palutena gets too much respect either ]

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. (????) [ Uhhhhhh... it’s an odd one. Short answer is that Pit’s a good samaritan who’s done a lot of good BUT most of the gods think protecting humanity is a Folly and a Joke and that Pit’s just a pawn of Palutena’s and while the humans do hold a lot of respect for him, uh............. let’s just say, some humans on the surface have reasons not to be too happy with him. ]

How strictly do you follow canon?  —  about as much as I need to to respect one of my favorite video games of all time. while kid icarus uprising is a comedic game most of the way through it has a lot more nuance and depth to itself, its world, and its characters than one can see at first glance, even after a full playthrough. if you let yourself get invested in the characters, take a closer look at the dialogue it provides, and acknowledge the central, core storytelling message of the game for what it is, there’s a lot more to pull out than one would think. that being said, it’s still a comedic video game and one that I think could use some more expansion. though the game is inconsistent there seems to be the consensus that pit is like a child and I’m not into that, mine’s a bit more showing in his cynical and snarky side after all he’s been through and overall there’s a lot of expansion on the base while building it into something unique.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  imagine your typical bootstrapped anime protagonist. someone who, when younger, was a runt who couldn’t meet the expectations of others, was looked down on, and found himself crushed and hurt and near-killed by a great tragedy that he was forced to claw his way out of to make himself stronger. Now imagine all of that with a character who comes out still able to have a very real smile and ultimately comes out of it a self-assured, chipper goofball with a good heart. now put that together with all of the darkness and depth you would have expected to be there, but scattered realistically throughout the attitude of someone who does genuinely want to keep a positive attitude. someone who is sincerely an optimist who’s grown past his weaker days, but isn’t quite so simple as he’d like to believe. all of that combined with someone who can’t read, is willing to eat ice cream off the floor in times of duress, is extremely easy to fluster and can channel his goddess’ power to slay GODS? you got one strong man.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  his positive attitude is what most people will see when speaking to him, because for what it’s worth, he’s not actively lying about his depth. he’s a cheerful, jovial man with a big smile and a love of the world around him - which is all well and good, but his depth is something you have to find, even if it is reasonably clear if you’re willing to look. he’s also portrayed as a bit unreasonably dumb at times, and though I personally justify the worst of it with proper explanations, I can understand reducing some of the value of the character in favor of seeing all of his Jokes

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  i made my original pit blog, flightlesswarrior, on a total whim after playing kid icarus uprising. cute character, fun premise, why not? but over time, and with numerous plots I was able to take part in exploring the serious, not so serious, shipping, tragedy, and going back through the game to keep my muse rolling, it occurred to me more and more with time just how nuanced and interesting pit and co. really are. pit embodies many of the things i really, truly love in a protag, falling firmly on the side of good, having a heart of genuine gold, and having nuances and parts of his personality that are less than savory without making him seem like a contradiction. he’s got depth, he’s got story, there’s a lot to explore and flesh out... and he’s also just a nice, friendly guy who gets along well with others. plus, i’m drawn to dorks.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  a) love for Kid Icarus: Uprising. a game that helped me gain a deeper and more insightful understanding of character development, subtle storytelling, optimism still tinged with legitimate and healthy cynicism, and overall something that changed my understanding of character development and storytelling forever. and b) spite. the fandom treats him like an idiot baby and smash DOES NOT help matters so i have to remind others that he is a veteran of a war, a socially inept loser with few real friends, and someone who’s kindness and optimism was shaped and molded by its hardships in a way that doesn’t require a near-breaking point or a reminder that “this guy could be evil you know” to show how someone can still keep a positive attitude in spite of all the shit life throws at him.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO [ i’d like to think i have?? but i also acknowledge that he’s become something of his Own in some ways that do intentionally diverge from sakurai’s intentions. ultimately though, even though i may not play him completely true to text, i try to be as loyal as i can be to the spirit of the character. ]

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF? [ when i can!! but??? the problem is my mind really, really likes to reiterate the Same Damn Points i have to make with characters that draws me to them - and you know, writing the same hcs over and over is generally considered poor form?? ngl i also prefer to let the writing do the talking unless it’s something that’s not gonna show so 90% of the time pit’s open enough that all but the darker sides of his mind are lain out before you. ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO [ maybe??? once or tWICE???? but i need to write more ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO [ I REALLY DO, HOO MAMA. i have a lot of thoughts about him, his depth, potential relationships, goofy thoughts, more serious fanfic ideas im never gonna write and don’t get me started on how many SHIPS i have to think about for him ]

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO [ my portrayal is made out of spite for portrayals in the fandom and some supplementary material that gets him wrong - it’s kinda hard to do that without the confidence ]

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / ??? [ it’s uhh........ complicated??? i don’t think writing is my expertise, tbh. but it is the best way i have to show the passion i have for characters, by putting their nuances into actions, by allowing them to shine from who they are their core, by exploring relationships and scenarios and struggles and hope and everything that can flesh a character out. whether or not i’m a good writer is something i’m still sorting out - but i’m proud of my ability to develop a character, and to that end i feel like i’m doing fine ]

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. / SORTA. [ on one hand......... very. i have a tendency to overthink everything i do and look back at moments i made an ass of myself that keep haunting me throughout my day - they haunt me. i only have two fears: what my immediate friend group thinks of me and the crushing existential weight of worrying one day i’m gonna ruin everything i am SOFT. that being said, i’m also hardheaded and stubborn and i’m not afraid to go off on someone i don’t have much respect for if it comes down to it. i’m easy to anger when it comes down to it you know i guess that proves the point huh i’m not stonefaced at all ]

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  i try to? it’s a bit touchy for me I admit just because I do take portrayals and try to make them my own, but i am willing to listen if someone has any points they’d like to make that i haven’t acknowledged properly. if criticism IS had, lemme know, i do wanna hear it!

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —   Y  E  S

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  not that everyone who disagrees with my opinions has to explain themselves of course, but i do sincerely like the chance to learn if something i’m doing doesn’t quite feel right. even if it’s one-sided and i’ll come to disagree, i’m happy to listen! even if i don’t agree with the disagreement head-on, i like to keep them in mind and see what i can shift around to acknowledge them if necessary

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  — neutral?? i mean don’t be mean about it, but if you just think my pit doesn’t seem right or it doesn’t click right with your muse i’m not gonna throw a fit about it. everyone’s allowed to view a character in their own way - and even if i may get salty about those who oversimplify him, it IS anyone’s right to view him how they will.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  — agree to disagree tbh. i can’t pretend it wouldn’t disappoint me, but it’s not like, worth ending a friendship over or anything. everyone’s got their own viewpoints to run on

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  sure, within reason! i take pride in my grammar but i know that with my fast typing and often running on only a few hours of sleep some problems do slip in through the cracks. while i generally either catch them or just Die with them i’m all ears if i mess up

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  uhhhhhhhhhh well i’m?? kind of a socially anxious mess honestly which DOES make being easy going a bit difficult BUT i do try and be friendly and sociable as i....... can. i’m too scared to talk to people and CAN say some dumb things but i’m not a hardass or anything!! i like to talk and Yell and shitpost and pretty much do anything but write tbh DHFLKSJDF

[lucatorahaven]

vampire au post

4 skype convos haphazardly mixed in from very different times

[29/11/2014 4:27:51 AM] Probably Not Assorted Cheeses: Vampire au

Lucas the incompetent vampire who eats mostly animals

Duster was the one who bit him, only bc duster was literally starving n lucas came at a bad time

idk if duster should be born a vampire or not but Wes is one too and together they taught lucas how to survive.

however eventually they had to leave, they offered for lucas to join them but lucas can’t leave his family behind, the kid’s too sentimental :’(

so together they staged his death (which im too lazy to try n think of)

claus knew bout the vampire thing tho, lucas couldn’t live alone like that. He also ended up biting Boney in an accident so hey vampire dog.

claus grew up and eventually had his own family. Lucas could only really watch from afar but then the kids got his age and it was hard to see him and keep the gig up. He visited his parents funeral anonymously and afterwards him and claus stood there just

“sup” “how’re the kids” “twice your age and with kids of their own” “heh, i always thought you would be the one with kids yano?” 

it was very bittersweet, it felt like they’ve never been apart 

“it never stops feeling strange without you” "I know” 

lucas thinks of that conversation a lot

he started off the "younger uncle" then the "weird neighbourhood kid that visits grandpa claus" and inevitably the "weird kid from nowhere who goes to the cemetary every other month to put flowers on graves older than appears to be"

SO without attachments lucas traveled with boney, hoping that they find duster along the way.

eventually lucas comes back to tazmilly but it’s been a couple hundred years now and it’s completely different so he doesn’t recognize it

n lucas one day is caught outside with no shelter, it’s almost morning so he runs into osohe (which is way outta town so he assumed it was abandoned)

vampires can’t enter homes without being invited in because apparently homes are holy land but osohe is fuckn haunted so that doesn’t apply (adding on to the abandoned theory)

that’s how kumatora and him meet, she finds him exploring osohe all “wtf the fuck who are YOU...this me house”

So she gets an awkward lie explanation from lucas 

n she eventually catches on lucas is a vampire n is just DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE I NEVER MET A VAMPIRE BEFORE FUCKN SWEET

lucas is just UM.;;; IS IT OK IF I STAY

"oh dude it's cool!! but u gotta tell me bout yourself bc i never met a vampire before ok?? i live iN THE PERFECT GOTHIC HOME BUT THERE’S NONE!! but here you are and i’m JACKED i gotta go to work tho so brb but afterwards u gotta tell me about yourself ok CYA"

lucas is still processing everything by the time she leaves, but he’s grateful and figures a conversation is the least he can do to repay her

in this au kumatora’s into cryptology bc her house is FULL of books and it’s a common subject (also the fact her castle is filled with ghosts and there are zombies just across the moat, it’s a p convenient hobby)

when she comes back she’s super excited because he’s still there 

lucas is kinda reserved but he still answers questions bc it’s POLITE

she asks bout p much everything?? “HEY do you need that” “y-yes” “is this true?” “not that i know of” “ok experiment time” “uH;;” “wait am i keeping you up?? it’s still daytime” “no it’s okay” 

after exhausting lucas of all his Vampire Facts kuma invites lucas to live at osohe castle, it’s big enough anyways

lucas is wary af bc he doesn't wanna accidentally get close to someone who 1. has a life span and 2. is technically food

but lucas ends up sticking around anyways, boney really likes it and he lowkey enjoys her company

so they keep chillin n lucas tells her how he hunts animals n how he only takes a bit of blood so they don't die and 

IDK I GO BY THE THEORY THAT VAMPIRES HAVE VENOM bc otherwise their entire food source becomes COMPETITION n they can bite but not?? TURN THEM INTO ANYTHIng so controlled blood flow for feeding purposes

also vampires only need to eat once or twice a month? they die around 6+ months without eating from starvation. It all depends on how quickly the blood cells in their body die basically.

ALSO when they bite you it doesn’t hurt bc their saliva numbs it so (sneaky bites) but it still feels weird as shit

bUT YA SO LUCAS N KUMATORA CHAt a whole bunch...you know that “accidentally get close” thing i mentioned? it happened

(it was kinda hard to avoid when the first companion you have that’s not your dog is informed on vampires and vampire goods, that was convenient)

so they keep hangin out and kumatora unlocks his Tragic Backstory

n sometimes kumatora helps him feed? like they go out together finding animals n storing blood

n lucas is fascinated with how technology has advanced bc he doesn't really?? go into towns anymore but he fuckn LOVES it

n they play video games n general COOL FUNTIMES

kumatora let’s lucas borrow her labtop to occupy himself and he looks for other vampires or hints of them

(this is under the assumption that osohe can get electricity in a modern au while still being ignored / abandoned)

n when kumatora goes to work he cleans up the castle n tries to show how much hE REALLY APPRECIATES HEr

n lIKE i also go by the logic that vampires do not do the stereotypical “turn into ashes at sunlight” it is a slow progression that takes up to 12 hours until absolutely turned to a crisp 

so basically if he covers himself and wears a shit ton of sunscreen he can chill in the middle of the day for like...a hour or two

and bc kumatora's WORTH IT he visits her at work n she's all LucAS WHAT ARe yO U DoING??   

lookin like a modern goth kid......has a huge red burn on his cheek..

he blames it on how pale/blonde he is “my brother is ginger you know”

kuma gets super worried n he's all bruh it cool i have like..2 more hours until i need to go to a hospital   

n kumas jsuT I GET OFF IN 4 HOURS GO HOME

kumatora invites him to movie nights with her friends n shit

people start calling lucas kumatora's goth boyfriend “never call him that when he's around or i'll murder you”

theyre all rather cool with lucas and find his speech kinda funny?

"wow look at those teeny boppers" "GET A LOAD OF THIS GUY GOD I LOVE IT" “???????????????" kumas friends ask for lucas more all WHAT SCHOOL DOES HE GO TO WHERE DOES HE LIVE "oh he's......foreign B)"

eventually it comes up how lucas doesn’t really want to be a vampire anymore and kumatoras just “dude i can help you find a cure” bc maybe her hobby is a bit Excessive but live your dreams

but ya lucas is just?? constantly wants to visit kumatora n loves her night shifts!! visits all the time they go on hikes a lot n jusT? GETS SO FUCKIGN ATTACHED IT SCARES HIM CONSTANTLY

they sometimes fall asleep on the couch together n when he's all "wow shes so cute.." he realizes how fucking Deep he’s in this and he’s FUCKED

he tries to distance himself but he Can’t Fucking Do It (just like w/ his fam)

whenever he tries to push her away she looks so upset it kills him 

N HE'S IN SUCH A STRUGGLE BC HE'S JUST

SO HAPPY TO BE AROUND HER??????

N LIKE WHEN THEY CUDDLE N STUFF HE'S JUST SO OVERWHELMED BC oh my god heartbeats!! oh my god she's gonna die before me

n lucas really fucking feels the severity of how FUCKED he is when its her birthday n hes just

yes she's gonna age and he's gonna outlive her n they could never realistically be happy even if by some offhand chance she even RETURNS the feelings

N HE HAS TO HIDE HIS CRYING N STUFF BUT KUMATORA HAS  A 6TH FUCKN SENSE FOR DISTRESSED LUCAS SO SHE'S ALL bruh :( whats up

so he opens up to her about his feelings and anxiety and she hugs him through it, it’s kind of a shitty way to confess 

“idk if i can forgive you for deciding that i’m gonna die before you” “are you threatening murder” “that and no way death’s gonna get me, i’m pretty stubborn”

a lil while passes

“you know... i’m okay with becoming a vampire” lucas refuses bc dude.. you can’t even comprehend the weight of immortality.. what if she regrets it 

“to hell if i make my closest friend suffer because of a life span” “hah i guess that’s the same for me”

they drop the vampire topic for the time being and move on to other ones such as... mutual feelings :^)

they’re both romantically inclined i mean... lucas spent 300+ years being a hermit and kumatora had other things to do

so they take it slow, it’s p much the same as before except.. hey...now when i think “man i wanna hold their hand” i CAN

it'd also be really sad and/or cute if the ghosts in the castle some of them were lucas's family which might be why boney likes it so much but also imagine them kissin on the couch "kuma ghosts r there" "EH THEYRE JUst ghosts" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) claus looks into the camera "after so long... finally my little brother gets some action :')"

but idk if that’s a thing bc it feels kinda weird i feel like kissin n shit wouldn't b very often bc as much as they both loVE IT 

IT'S NOT THAT GREAT FOR A VAMPIRE

YANO.... HEARTS R BEATING... NECK IS RIGHT THERE (lucas still adores it tho)

so back to the topic of Mortality

kuma gets attacked in an alley on the way home from work

n lucas finds her bc they were gonna meet up but he smelt the blood and when he does find her he just goes FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK n didn't know how to save her 

also thinking rationally is hard when OH LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD AHhaHA

SO HE BITES HER

he carries her body home n he spends the whole waiting process between DEAD and VAMPIRE crying just "hoyl shti please work please work" “what did i fucking dooooo” “what if i was earlier” “what if i was too late” so many anxieties

kuma wakes up and lucas transistions from panic to HAPPY PANIC OH THANK GOD

she’s really out of it bc of the process and he’s crying apologies “it’s okay you saved me” but he’s still crying, they cuddle for comfort

"hey atleast we did it NOW when i'm a hot sexy 19 yr old and not a wrinkly old lady” “kuma” “i’m tryna make light of the conversation”

so now that kumatora’s a vampire she only works night shifts until she eventually quits. They moved to a new town / whatever so it was easy to avoid having to meet someone in the daytime. facebook helped keep in touch with her friends while still letting the friendship die out.

it took kumatora a bit to get used to being a vampire. she threw up a lot at first and she didn’t like having to drink blood but she did eventually get used to it

idk if they find a cure bc idk what the cure would BE but they eventually find other vampires :^) they continued lucas’s search for duster and probably found him tbh

[gg-astrology]

Im trying to figure out if I believe in astrology. So... ppl doing charts/readings of celebrities and ppl they don't know irl bring up sexuality a lot... How on earth can astrology tell you a persons sexuality? It's not like you can say all Scorpio Venus are gay or all Taurus moons are bi, so??? Not just orientation, but fetishes and preferences... Some1 told me caps are into bby girl/princess stuff and like roleplaying their first time and, as a cap, I was like no I don't??? It just seems dumb

hey there! 💓❤️💓 honestly ive no idea about the assuming sexuality (i.e. “scorpio venus are gay or taurus moons are bi”) – thing?? Thats wack as hell i’d probably be on the fence about astrology if i heard that too, ‘m sorry u got hit with that right off the bat?? ;; 💓❤️💓

The second part about fetish and preferences - the statement ‘caps are into bby girl/princess stuff’ is pretty generalized and I don’t agree with it personally On a technical level it’s very presumptuous and seems almost like a blanket-statement? If they’re going to say that, there should be placements and specificity involved. An expansive explanation helps when it’s not just ‘vibes’  bc there’s – uh, alot of things that people do pull out out of nowhere and claim that it’s true just because it seems the most fitting to their story/narrative/vibe impressions they got off of someone?  

So let me clarify? The whole point of this (astrology - to me) is that we’re trying to decipher and learn about expressions, which I understand can be taken to different context (i.e. sexual in nature, romantic in nature, friendship, family, work, life, “horoscopes”, the future) – it’s ‘divination’ by definition (if you look up the term ‘astrology’) - you don’t have to believe it, it’s just the want to know and the ability to give it a chance, that matters? 💓❤️💓 

If you look at it this way - learning the history of how it was practiced, why generations of civilization have used/done with it – (from different cultures no less! Something we all have in common is the sky above us!) – how and why the method is used, the theories behind it – is pretty interesting in itself. As a concept alone. Isn’t it curious? Maybe not about this topic, but another topic if it’s what you’re into. But I think that’s enough of a reason for people to study it if it does fit their boat/perk their fancy? 

To me personally it was never about ‘omg my luck next year is going to be the shit’ or ‘caps are all into role-playing’ but I get curious about why that was said, what basis, does it have any workings behind it? Most topic does! If you look deep enough, but it also depends on context and what you make of it as well. 

I think the main point is that its all just theories. Testing and running it over again and again is normally the way we go about marking down data if its successful or not. 

‘People doing chart readings of people they don’t even know’, ‘bringing up their sexuality’ and ‘fetishization and preference’ seems to be asking about the ethical and moral issues of astrology and to what extent astrologers should use it (note that its a choice, with the information you hold - how much should you do it and in what way. Consequences you’ve considered, and consequences you haven’t considered but will affect those who are influenced by it)

The disregard and/or breach of personal information of another person - perhaps a minor or someone who explicitly have said/would want to keep their information private (to not get exploited/ruined/made assumptions about or defamed unintentionally/intentionally by the mass/parasocial ideas from fans or “others”) – is definitely a topic we (in the community) should talk more in-depth about to get clarity/general consensus about (without witch-hunting or hurting anyone in this scene)

The need to have information accessible for individuals who might find it as a gate-way to the community, or a student who’s studying it to gain more information/resources to go from – versus the subject/context/person themselves should be a no-brainer that we pick the latter over the former. There are appropriate, clear, well-researched accessible information in whatever context people want to explore astrology techniques/topics out there. Its just a matter of ethics and morals - and consequences of ‘what happens when you expose someone to uncomfortable information/situation’ as well that should be considered?? Not just from a technical stand-point of ‘this is information and we should use it’ - but with more regards to the personal livelihood and respect for others as well.

This is a long answer - but to simplify - Some of the ethical/moral issues you brought up is important, I don’t shy away from discussing it openly on my blog anyways. 

To me astrology is a topic that is just that; a topic. It can help if you want it to help (intentionally, through astrologer’s discretion - but it can help those unintentionally as well!) – and it can hurt if you want it to hurt (intentionally or not - perhaps more so unintentionally or in worst cases, intentionally) 

It’s a tool, the astrologer is the one who wields the tool. How they choose to wield it matters. Astrology itself is just a topic - whether you chose to ‘believe’ in it or not doesn’t really matter? It’s a subject you can study, get better at it and gain from it. The idea that it could be learnt meant that the person doesn’t have to believe it or experience it personally to excel at it. Its just easier to fact-check against ourselves, our personal experience (but again, that comes with personal bias as well). Because again, it’s about data and studies - experiences tallies and % of success versus failure. Outliers, etc. Seeing how much this ‘checks out’ as a theory (a big pile of theories) came from the underlying curiosity of why this happens, how it could be used/applied for generations, what is it about. Again– that’s enough of a curiosity (if it fits your specific boat) to embark on the journey.

Last note, lack of discretion is bad in any context/situation, but I don’t and won’t shame people who know discretion and is using it to smartly address the topic of sex in a safe and healthy manner (to those around them and the subject they’re handling) – If they know what they’re doing, takes responsibility for themselves/their audience/the topic they’re handling– it’s not a subject I’m interested in talking about myself (im pretty much, kinda just an ‘oh cool’ about it), but I don’t see anything wrong with just the core-concept of just talking about sex as long as it’s done well - with conscious, and with respect to others? 

Astrology and sex have been (at least in mainstream) linked together and seems? almost exploited somewhat, most people who do talk about it (from what i’ve seen and I definitely haven’t seen everything) – just seems to be comfortable and confident in themselves, comfortable about the topic, and is just as much responsible and putting as much weight into consciously thinking about their audience/what they want to do as other – astrologers who talks about traditional astrology or light-hearted stuff sometimes. 

I definitely get that astrology has also been used (atleast from what i’ve seen?) – as a scrape goat for ‘no moral, unethical sexual stuff u might want to know about ur idols’ as well (im not making fun this is not my own words, i’ve legit seen someone wrote this word for word) – both by assumption that all astrology contents are the same, astrologers are the same, or by examples of people who became popular and gained notoriety for their content – or even examples of those who do just lack discretion and just Do Not Care. Idk? Either way, yeah it’s unfortunate if it’s the last example but I hope you find someone who fits your bill if you’re still looking into it!