#working on the 2nd chapter of the boys

[transshion]

writing something sillay

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Now (PT. 1)

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]

(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony

@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,

If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']

Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

The night was young when everything went to chaos.

The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.

There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual. 

Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process. 

What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.

However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else. 

Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.

A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on. 

It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.

They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.

As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.

Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.

Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.

That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down. 

If only he could track your phone somehow-

["You have any new information yet?"]

Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face. 

How annoying.

"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."

["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]

Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.

Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.

… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.

"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."

Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.

["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]

Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.

["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]

["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]

["I am calm."]

["-and focus. We'll find them."]

Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset. 

Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.

Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.

["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]

Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.

["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]

["You don't actually believe that, right?"]

["..."]

Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.

["See? Even you don't believe it."]

[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]

["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]

["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]

["You don't fucking know that."]

Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.

["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]

Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search. 

If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.

Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.

However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.

Sighing, he kept looking.

Just where are you?

["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]

["Jason-!"]

["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]

["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]

["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]

["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]

["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]

["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]

["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]

Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page. 

After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.

It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on. 

From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.

He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.

They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.

Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.

["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]

A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything. 

["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]

["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]

["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]

["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]

"..."

Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.

["... Tim?"]

["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]

["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]

The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.

On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..

Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.

This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…

Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.

Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.

He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you. 

Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.

Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.

Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.

It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that. 

However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.

['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building. 

Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo. 

He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.

No way, he thought. No way.

Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.

He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.

Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.

Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.

He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search. 

Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.

He's done it. He's finally done it.

"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.

["Language, Tim."]

Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down. 

"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.

["Did you find anything?"]

Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure. 

Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?

["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]

["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]

["What? I'm just saying-"] 

"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.

["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]

["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]

["Send me their location."]

["Send me the info too!"]

Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight. 

Of course. Just great.

["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]

Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected. 

["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]

["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]

["... You're not saying-"]

["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]

["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]

["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]

["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]

["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]

"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.

["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]

"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"

["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]

["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]

["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]

["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]

["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]

["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]

["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]

["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]

["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]

Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"

["No." Bruce said flatly.]

"But why!?"

["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]

"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"

["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]

["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]

["What?! Of course not-!"]

["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]

The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained. 

They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?

Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.

They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.

"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now. 

["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]

Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.

"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.

["It's Dick."]

["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]

["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]

"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."

["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]

Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.

["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]

["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]

["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]

["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]

["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]

Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.

Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.

—

You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.

Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.

Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress. 

You felt… happy here. At peace, even.

You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along. 

Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.

Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.

You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.

Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.

You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?

Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.

However, another set of knocks sounded. 

They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.

It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.

Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.

More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.

Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out. 

Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door. 

Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.

Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side. 

Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.

It was only then did you understand.

You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.

How… how did they know where you live?

You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.

Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.

Fuck. He was getting impatient.

Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.

Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.

As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.

Oh god, you were really doing this.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory. 

"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.

You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.

"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.

"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.

"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax. 

Was he always so… tense?

"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible. 

Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself. 

Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.

"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...

Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.

Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.

Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.

"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door. 

"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.

Did they always scare you this much?

"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.

"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing." 

"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.

"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.

"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

"My place?" 

"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.

"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"

"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.

"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place." 

"Well, there is the-"

"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.

"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.

"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.

"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.

Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath. 

You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart. 

Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you,  or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.

There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.

On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?

You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.

All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.

Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.

Neither smile reached either of your eyes.

"So, you know where it is?"

"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk." 

"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"

"No, um. I can lead."

"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.

You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.

An awkward silence fell over both of you.

You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.

Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.

Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.

So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.

Yet you still couldn’t shake it.

The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.

You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?

CRACK.

Perhaps you spoke too soon.

A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off. 

It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.

What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped. 

Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.

"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.

Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne. 

You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.

Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?

You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.

So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."

Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.

Your body refused to relax after that.

You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.

Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.

You're going to be okay.

CRACK!

You're going to be fine.

SNAP!

You're going to make it through this.

POP!

You could tough it out.

"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.

This would all be over soon.

So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too. 

You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?

You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.

Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.

Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.

"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.

"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.

"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.

A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.

"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.

"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.

"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.

"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.

It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.

"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes. 

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.

"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"

You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link. 

You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"

"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart. 

"Jim? Like the commissioner?"

"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."

"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."

"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.

"Right… yeah."

Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?" 

"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.

"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know." 

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed. 

Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all. 

You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.

"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.

"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people." 

You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.

The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away. 

The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.

"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.

"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."

You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."

"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.

"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."

"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?" 

"Jess!"

"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.

You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.

It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.

Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.

"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to." 

You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.

You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."

Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.

"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.

"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.

You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.

You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.

"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?

You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.

You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.

Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.

Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.

Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?

You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.

Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.

"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.

"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."

You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.

"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.

"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.

"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.

"Is… everything okay?" 

"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"

"Oh. Alright then."

Another beat of silence passed over both of you.

You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.

You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.

"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.

"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.

"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.

For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.

Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.

He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.

So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.

"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.

So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face. 

He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.

His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.

"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.

Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.

You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away. 

Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?

How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.

You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.

"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again. 

You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.

Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.

It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.

He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.

Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates. 

Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.

There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.

['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']

You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.

"So, where are we going?" 

"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.

After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.

"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.

"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.

"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people. 

"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them. 

"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.

Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking. 

You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.

Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?

"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried." 

You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….

Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.

Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."

Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."

"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."

"It won't, not with me around."

"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."

You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"

"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"

"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.

"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."

"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."

"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"

"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?" 

"Now you're worried about being seen?"

"Like you weren't before-"

"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"

"No."

"I didn't even get to finish!"

"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.

"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.

"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.

You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.

With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.

"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.

"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.

"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.

"I'm just saying…" 

"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.

He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.

"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.

"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point. 

You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"

"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.

"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that." 

"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."

"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"

"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"

"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"

Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.

"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing." 

"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"

"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.

"You… have a roommate?" 

"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"

"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"

"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life." 

"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."

You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.

How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?

You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him. 

You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive. 

The thought alone made you feel uneasy.

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

[Chapter 3, part 2]

[yoonia]

Ever A Never After — story masterpost

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Summary | Growing up in the fairy tale land, your whole life seems to have been written perfectly in the books, with the picturesque life and the Prince Charming that you can see yourself having your happily ever after with. But your entire world turns upside down when you are suddenly sent into a whole new world, a different kind of universe where happily ever after doesn’t exist. Thrust into a new challenge and shown a new side of life, you find yourself standing in a crossroad. When the moment arises, would you find your way back home to your true love, or is the universe trying to show you that sometimes happy endings don’t have to be written so perfectly?

⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Angst, Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; specific warnings will be added accordingly on each published chapters ⟶ Status / Current word count / Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Ever A Never After: Act 2 - Part 1 (Sept 16th, 2024) - 35,098 words of n/a words  ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi | Music companion ⟶ Cross-posted in AO3 and Wattpad

⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

⟶ Story Note | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). In place of the coding, you’ll find a blank space as her name. Please also note that our main character/reader insert for this story has her own nickname that will be used in the scenes. While the story is adapted from the movie, Enchanted, with some characters and places that were mentioned in the movie added into this story, I will be adding changes in the story settings, characters’ names and background stories to fit the plot. That being said, as someone who has never set foot in the land of America, forgive me if there are some inaccuracies in the details that are being added here. I hope that doesn’t change your reading experience with the story.

⟶ Chapters

⇢ Act One. Andalasia, The Maiden, and The Dream Prince [“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” “It’s me. Your Prince Charming.” | Word count: 19,688 words | posted: May 21st, 2024 | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Two. The Alter World and The Saviour [“I need to find my way back to the castle.” “What castle?” “Why, of course, I’m talking about Andalasia.” “Huh, right. Why don’t I just call you an Uber?” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

— Part 1. Welcome to the Alter World [Word count: 15,410 words of n/a words - posted on: Sept 16th, 2024] — Part 2. The World Without Magic [Word count: — of n/a words - posted on: — ]

⇢ Act Three. Fairy Tales and Bittersweet Endings [“You forgot to say the part where you lived happily ever after.” “Happily ever after? That thing doesn’t exist, not in the real world.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Four. The Ball for The Kings and Queens and Dragons [“There is a ball for the Queen and Kings at the start of spring. Shall we go together?” “As your Prince Charming, I’ll be happy to escort you.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Five. Prince Charming and a Happily Never After [“Look at how the tables have turned, as now I have in my hand the Prince who is supposed to protect the princess.” “Come along now, dear. You wouldn’t want to miss the ending.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⟶ Fic talk & references

⇢ image reference

⇢ readers feedback & discussions

⟶ Patreon specials

⇢ visual inspiration board

⇢ fic commentary (coming soon)

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | It’s finally here! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. As mentioned in our last talk, there will be some changes from the original prompt/details that I’ve made to make the story work better, but I hope you’ll be able to enjoy it still. I have decided to release this one as a mini-series to present the timeline more appropriately and make the storyline work. Have fun reading!

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

— CHILDE x FEM!READER

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back.

STATUS: started on 08/25/24

GENRE: older brother’s best friend, smau, college au, fluff, angst, crack, strangers to lovers, slowburn

WARNINGS: excessive use of profanity , ooc!childe (probably)

NOTES: 💌 means it’s a written chapter

TAGLIST (OPEN!): feel free to comment or send an ask!

TRANSCRIPT!

— D1 YAPPERS | NO DADDIES, JUST ISSUES

1ST SEMESTER: break up, break free

01. Was it casual?

02. I’m not a pervert! 💌

03. Relax, she’s not my type

04. I’m so wet tonight 💌

05. Stalking? No, Investigating? Yes

06. Do you like your men sarcastic?

07. Take notes

08. Where? A bed?

09. Trust me, ok?

10. Always worth your time 💌

11.

12.

13.

14. The delivery boy 💌

2ND SEMESTER: break through, break down

FINALS SEASON: then break a smile

TAGLIST (OPEN!): @thegalaxyisunfolding @stratusworld @tiramizuloz @miy-svz @trulyylee @batatinhafriita @scaradooche @yuminako @m1njizzie @mtndewbajablasted @fadedpinkpen @vavrin @kioffy @kokoomie @ashveil @tired-jaz @nia333 @riabriyn @kyon-cherri @kitsunetori @morgyyyyyyy @kazumiku @ichorstainedskin @hanilessa @s4ikooo1 @matolka @appy-slicez @monocerosei @mostlymoth @heathnyfangirl @meigalaxy @x-hihihi-x @lunaavity @ladyofpandemonium @coffeeisbehindyou @mentallyunpresent @wrangleanangel @littlesliceofcheese @ell1e2010 @vi0let-writes @strawbyan @blupi02

FLOYLIA © 2024 | please don’t plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── ROMANTIC LIFE ┊ INSIDER'S VIEW ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: megumi fushiguro as main male lead.

꒰ heart to him ﹢ a sneak peek into what's probably the very beginning of your relationship with megumi — how it started, to be exact. just two highschool students who found themselves a little attracted to each other.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: megumi = 2nd year student, you = 3rd year. both start as strangers into friends into (potential) lovers. split into two ‘chapters’ to break it up.

꒰১ CHAPTER ONE ﹕ it all started when…

“...pretty.”

“damn, for real?! i’ve been trying to work on my manliness. thanks, bro.”

megumi’s immediately snapped out of his trance. he zoned out of the conversation minutes ago, preferring to focus on the encounter he had with a stranger earlier.

being immersed in his head, he had no idea he’d begun to get vocal. from sighs that reek of longing to random compliments as seen before. the three friends that circled around his desk didn’t mind his absence in the conversation — rather, they played into it. whenever he said something entirely unrelated, they’d respond as if they’re the ones he’s daydreaming about.

somehow, megumi failed to notice until itadori responded to him.

“no.” is what megumi replied. with one eyebrow raised, he quickly looked up and down itadori’s frame.

“but you called itadori pretty, dude!”

“can it.” his defences rose. “i wasn’t talking about him.”

a collective “oh?” came from everyone — even the students who weren’t a part of the group’s conversation. the boys leaned in closer, eyes set on megumi.

“is this perhaps fushiguro’s first love scenario?!” tichi gasped, already trying to piece together what an interaction between megumi and a love interest would look like.

“ah.” itadori folds his arms across his chest, nodding with eyes closed. “so i’m not ugly!”

the other friend kept quiet, waiting for megumi to reveal more information.

as for the main character in the moment, megumi’s ears flushed a particular shade of red — one that usually indicates embarrassment. a heat overtook his body; being the centre of attention for his group and the long-eared classmates certainly wasn’t the most ideal situation for him.

but megumi must keep his cool. he has an image to maintain — the image of “that one guy who’s always unimpressed.”

reaching a hand to scratch the sides of his neck, he gave a sigh before satisfying everyone’s curiosity.

“it’s a girl…”

“gender reveal!”

“anyway, she’s a third year.”

silence unfolds. megumi doesn’t continue after that, and the crowd doesn’t give their input — all except for a fellow classmate who’s definitely going to put the two together. as someone who has connections with the third-year students, he’s going to be megumi’s fairy godmother.

“well, well, well.”

heads turn to the voice — even megumi’s eyes met the owner’s.

“what’s her name? if you say it, i can make connections. the third years are graduating in a few months — time is not on your side,” tacho says, walking towards megumi with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

quite a dramatic entrance for someone who’s on cleaning duties after class.

“dude, do you think you’re in a show?” the unfortunate twin brother of tacho, tichi, sighs.

ignoring his brother, tacho leans down to megumi, maintaining eye contact with the boy. not just any eye contact though, the eye contact that screams business! boss to employee eye contact!

“i’m not telling.” megumi refused.

“boohoo, you’re lame.” tacho fakes a cry.

“but,” megumi continues, regaining his position as the centre of attention. “if i manage to talk to her and don’t get her number… i’ll tell you.”

“deal?” tacho’s ears perked up. he liked what he heard.

“deal.”

“pinky promise?”

“what are we, eight?” megumi frowned almost immediately.

there’s finally something for the second-year students of class 2B to look forward to. the love story progression between megumi fushiguro and the mysterious third-year student.

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ THIRD-YEAR STUDENT, Y/N.

“psst, y/n!” a crumpled page hits the back of your head.

“what?!” you whisper-yelled, turning around to face the culprit.

“what’s the answer for question forty-five? is it b or d?” the culprit asked with urgency and desperation. the first multiple-choice mock exam of the week is certainly handing his ass back to him.

your expression flatlined — you should’ve known it wasn’t anything important.

“don’t you have your phone on you?! just cheat.” not-so-good advice was exchanged through whispering.

“that’s too much work!”

“then choose b. ‘b’ as in bat. if you get it wrong, blame mai.”

the perfect third-year class experience: getting an answer from a friend who got it from a friend who got it from a— you get the point. mock exams aren’t always taken seriously, it might as well be a regular class.

although there wasn’t a need to cheat for the answers yourself, you were too lazy to debate whether the answer was this or that based on the previous mock exam. call that the curse of repeated questions.

with thirty-five minutes left on the clock, you circled the final answer before closing the booklet. there’s nothing more relaxing than taking a nap after finishing an exam. it’s not like you can leave anyway.

“if you’re finished, leave the classroom. don’t be noisy in the halls or you're getting failed.

…apparently you can now.

you wasted no time in getting out. leaving a friend in need hurts you, but he can consider it revenge for throwing a paper ball at your head.

stretching your limbs, you snuck up behind mai, lightly kicking behind her knees to surprise her.

“fuck— y/n!”

“hey, shhhhh. we’re in the halls~” you hushed her, reminding her of the warning the class received beforehand.

mai showed no sign of regret. she’s heard that warning ever since elementary school days — it’s nothing more than empty words.

“you believe that shit?” she asked, disappointment lacing her tone.

“do i look stupid in your eyes?” you asked, saddened at how your friend viewed you.

mai nodded, ignoring your offended reaction. tapping twice on her phone screen, she hummed and slid it back into her skirt’s pocket.

“my ex messaged.”

“i thought you blocked—”

“anyway, let’s go get an early lunch before the younger ones.”

mai cut you off from finishing your sentence. she completely forgot that she told you a lie.

-> 11:15 A.M ◟ under the oak tree.

two ladies enjoying the gentle breeze as leaves dance along the wind’s track. they were having a meal, appreciating the shade they got from the tree along with the silence that came from being dismissed during class time.

the two totally weren’t ignoring the complaints from the sole person who’s been going nonstop since he came out of the classroom. he’s not appreciating the wrong answers given to him from a friend who got it from a friend (×2).

“—she said it was c. can you believe that?! C?!”

“wait.” you sat up straight. “who said that?”

“the fucking teacher! were you even listening to me?!”

“no, not really…” you’re guilty as charged.

“teru, swear upon your life that she said the answer’s c.” mai spoke with authority.

“i swear, dude.”

the senior student life: friends saying “fuck” in a exhausted way together. the reaction of when you know you completely fucked up.

another moment of silence was enjoyed. this time, it was a silence where everyone came to terms with the possibility of failing the entire exam — it’s only the beginning of many, many mock exams to come.

clicking your tongue, you decide to break the silence.

“so, mai’s ex messaged her but didn’t she say she blocked him?”

gossip time!

“plain lie.” teru expressed disappointment.

“watch that tongue. he unblocked himself.” mai defended herself.

“and i can turn water back into wine.” teru refuted.

“let’s not jump mai now,” min said. “i saw y/n talking to some guy during our first break.”

all eyes on you now. you couldn’t put a face to the guy you were talking to, but you sure as hell won’t go down without defending yourself.

“tsk, tsk. and you’re talking about me?!” mai shakes her head, happy with the party forgetting about the supposed-to-have-been-blocked ex.

“min, you were silent all the time. when you finally speak you throw shots at me?! i was just helping him!”

“and i can part the ocean into two.” teru once again expresses sarcasm.

“zip it, terushima.” you glared at him. “i don’t even know the guy, okay? cut me some slack!”

“what year is he in?” min asked, stuffing her mouth with mini marshmallows.

“dunno. probably second? he’s kinda tall with insane bed hair but i don’t remember his face…” you bit your lips trying to recall his face, but you couldn’t.

“was his hair black?” again, min questions.

“yeah.”

“no tie, sleeves rolled up to the elbow?”

“i think… maybe?”

“it’s probably megumi fushiguro.” popping the final marshmallow into her mouth, she dusted her hands off, ignoring the surprised reactions.

“okay google. who even is that? why do you know the second years’ full names…” teru questioned min, judging her for her knowledge of the students.

“well, she’s in the student council… anyway, i wanna see this fushiguro.” mai’s interest has peaked. sleeves rolled up to the elbow with no tie? he’s probably a mischievous kid.

your response is a bit later than the other two. you were repeating the name ‘megumi fushiguro’ in your head.

“his name has a nice ring to it.” finally you spoke.

“he’s a second year!” teru’s shocked at your interest in him. just a moment ago you couldn’t put a face to him. you probably can’t put a face to the name either.

“just a year younger, no biggie.” you shrugged

“how are you gonna talk to him?” mai asked, wondering if you’d walk around the second year’s floor questioning everyone on who’s megumi fushiguro.

“who said anything about that?” you shook your head. “if i see him, i see him.”

“more like if you hear his name, you hear it.”

“terushima.”

min suddenly claps, outing the fire that would’ve ignited between you and the bitchy boy.

“i’ll give him y/n’s number, but you have to send screenshots.” she offered a trade.

“i would’ve done that anyway.”

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

-> 02:30 P.M ◟ sudden after school meeting.

the lesson megumi learnt today was to never reveal anything to his friends again. he was kept hostage all day without a single chance to catch a glimpse at the newfound crush.

whenever they could’ve, the phrase you’d hear kids singing was sung to him: “megumi and a third-year student kissing in a tree! k.i.s.s.i.n.g!”

for the first time in his life, he experienced what it’s like to hate something from the very core of his heart. it got to the point where he sneaked away from the group to leave the school grounds alone. however, even that led to no peace. he was bothered once more.

“fushiguro?” someone called out to him, lightly patting his shoulder.

he didn’t show it, but he was certainly spooked. the increased racing of his heart provides evidence of such.

“yes? oh, it’s you, min.” he turned around, keeping his poker face. can’t be caught having expressions in the school grounds.

“yup. so, that third-year girl you met during the first break, here’s her number.”

min stuck a sticky note on the pocket of his shirt, ready to walk back to where her destination is.

“wait— are you close to her?” megumi mentally cringes. he acted on impulse.

“yeah, that’s my friend. bye now.”

and she’s gone, leaving a stunned megumi in the hallway. he can’t believe it was this easy to get your number. seeing that he’s alone… maybe he can do some victory moves.

“DAMN! she beat me to it.”

“tacho, can’t you ever be quiet?!”

“was that her? she's pretty...”

“nope, that’s the friend.”

never mind. he forgot he’s got four friends who are master spies — fueled by the fact that they can’t mind their business.

turning back around to the group, he puts a hand on his hip.

“are you guys serious?”

“as serious as you are, brother.” itadori’s hand rests on his chest, providing an answer on behalf of the others.

an exasperated sigh left megumi. one day he’ll consider transferring schools.

-> 06:38 P.M ◟ courage! dominance! bravery!

megumi’s a male. a male that lacks courage, dominance, and bravery when it comes to love-related situations. once he finished his after school routine, he got comfortable in bed and is currently staring at his phone, contemplating on whether he should send you a message or not.

after a serious meeting with himself and the voice in his head, he mustered up the courage to send you a message.

megumi: hey. this is megumi fushiguro, from second year (2B).

five minutes of silence before a “ding!” is heard. he purposefully set his phone to ring after he sent the message.

y/n: oh hello i’m y/n!!

y/n: third year (3A) as u probably already know

excitement overtook megumi and he’s not pleased with it. suddenly, he’s making a typo every two words, palms sweaty, and smiling.

y/n: what’s up hru

y/n: hope min didn’t scare you

—

megumi: i’m alright, just bored. wby?

megumi: she didn’t scare me. i was a bit stunned, though.

y/n is typing…

y/n: that’s good! i’m bored too

y/n: sick of these assignments </3

y/n: drop out before it’s too late you hear me?

y/n: ok don’t but it’s an option if you’re privileged enough

—

megumi: lol i’ll think about it.

megumi: thanks for the help earlier btw.

—

y/n: anytime bro igu

y/n: oh i gtg

y/n: i forgot my mom asked me to do smth oops

y/n: we can talk later or tmr in school okay

y/n: bye ^^

—

megumi: good luck, y/n. bye.

y/n is offline.

“wow...” he re-reads the conversation, looking at the amount of messages you sent compared to his. “she’s chatty.”

his excitement calmed down a little after you went offline. actually, it was replaced with annoyance. it’s almost as if the guys put a timer and recorder on his phone. they texted the exact minute he came off your chat.

(20+) new messages from ‘cool gc name’:

> tacho: megumi don’t leave us hanging

> tichi: call me curious george

> itadori: yo that min girl been on my mind

> tacho: lemme hook u up bro

> itadori: please bro

> toeni: hop on vc

> tichi: for what

> toeni: im too lazy to type

> tichi: boy bye

> itadori: need min to give me a minute of her time so i can express how she’s been on my mind

> tacho: that shit fire

> itadori: i’ll be a poet

> tichi: ???

> toeni: who’s min?

> tacho: girl who’s friends with other girl megumi likes

> toeni: oh right her

> toeni: she scary

> itadori: u dont talk to women anyway

> tichi: already on her defence itadori’s far from saving

> tacho: truly megumi’s best friend

“what the fuck.” megumi audibly shows his shock. from the sheer amount of messages incoming, he doesn’t want to get involved.

it’s too late, though. because everyone’s online, the others can see that everyone, including megumi, read the messages. caught red-handed.

> tacho: MEGUMI

> toeni: welcome back megumi. i removed your AFK.

> tichi: easy there discord addict

> toeni: pls hop on vc

> itadori: how’d it go? u messaged her?

—

megumi: i did. she’s chatty like you guys

—

> tacho: add her here she one of us

> tichi: absolutely not

> itadori: real this is a sacred gc

> itadori: unless u get min in here too

> tichi: brother you saw her for less than five minutes

> itadori: five MINutes that blessed my life

> toeni: betting fifty dollars megumi didn’t hold the convo

—

megumi: get off my dick? she had to go offline.

—

> toeni: that's what they all say

> tichi: don't listen to him he’s mad no one’s going on vc

> toeni: true :(

> tichi: too bad :((

> toeni: die

—

megumi: i’ll probably talk to her tmr. it’s late and she isn’t back yet.

—

> tacho: DUDE NO

> tacho: how does one cockblock their own talking stage

> itadori: here goes mr. always in a relationship

—

megumi: we just started “talking.” i don’t want to come off as a creep.

—

> toeni: couldn’t be me

> toeni: i would’ve spam tf out of her phone

> tichi: how to get blocked 101

> toeni: here we go

> toeni: another lesson from The Wise And The Righteous

tichi has kicked toeni out of the groupchat.

tacho has added toeni into the groupchat.

> toeni: LEGENDS NEVER DIE!!!!

> toeni: tacho i apologise for calling you a glittered horse all this time

tacho has kicked toeni out of the groupchat.

megumi: k i’m gonna sleep.

—

> itadori: ur probably gonna dream about miss 3rd yr

—

megumi: correct.

—

> itadori: WHAT

> tichi: oh

megumi is offline.

> tacho: he’s in too deep i fear

> toeni: he just like me fr

> tacho: how the fuck did u get back in

> toeni: please refer to the capitalised message i sent before getting kicked again

꒰১ CHAPTER TWO ﹕ good morning?!

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ THIRD-YEAR STUDENT, Y/N.

it’s not a proper morning unless your mother blinds your vision with the lightbulb of heaven, mai spamming your messages, teru asking for your mom’s breakfast, and min stealing your hoodie for herself.

truly, this is peak highschool friendship. you couldn’t have asked for more. in the classroom 7:30 A.M on the dot with the air conditioner’s cranked up to the coldest. you were copying assignment answers from another classmate and the group scrolled through the chat with megumi.

“he’s the type to text with actual grammar,” mai says, pulling her lollipop out of her mouth with a “pop” sound.

“short ass conversation.” teru does what he’s best at: judging.

“you guys actually texted this morning?” min’s surprised. “when it’s with us you just dip the convo and never text until it’s some random hour where everyone’s asleep.”

“i told you i usually dip to play games!”

“lies and more lies.” mai clicks her tongue. “anyway, teru did you read their convo?”

“barely. the awkwardness pained me.”

“here, read it.”

teru hesitantly took hold of your phone, scrolling back to the beginning of today’s chat with megumi. with a gulp of fear, he reads the messages.

y/n: im back

y/n: well the next day

y/n: still counts!

—

megumi: morning. welcome back.

—

y/n: oh right good morning!!

y/n: what r u doing

y/n: im fucking up this sandwich

—

megumi: nothing really. i’m on my bed.

—

y/n: did u eat breakfast

“did you eat breakfast?!? this cliché.”

“shut up and read quietly, teru!” embarrassment hit you at that moment.

megumi: no. i don’t particularly like breakfast.

megumi: well, not this early into the morning.

—

y/n: ur more of a brunch guy ???

—

megumi: preferably. what about you?

—

y/n: me personally i just eat if im hungry

y/n: even during class i sneak in some bites

—

megumi: really? you sound like a fun deskmate.

—

y/n: aww ty!! you sound like a reserved guy

y/n: wish u were my deskmate. the one i have just sleeps

y/n: mind u shes apart of the student council

—

megumi: min?

—

y/n: yes!! gotta be principal’s niece privileges

y/n: i love her tho she's very nice

—

megumi: she is. you are too.

“were you guys flirting or just being honest?”

“bro, i don’t even know.”

y/n: i will definitely meet u today

y/n: somehow

y/n: gtg now see u later

—

megumi: bye.

teru swipes off the app, closes your phone, and places it face down on your desk. his expression seems serious — all three of you girls are silent.

“i’ve got to see what this dude’s like,” he begins. “so, i’ll be hanging around outside all day with the guys.”

“yes! be useful for once and get some intel.” mai’s now eager. she raises a hand to hold teru’s to which he accepts with the same enthusiasm.

you remained silent, wondering if you should make up a bullshit excuse to visit megumi’s classroom. realistically speaking, you can visit whatever classroom you like as a third-year student, but you don’t want to come off as abrupt.

“what’s on your mind, y/n?” min asks, poking your arm.

“i kinda wanna see megumi — given that i don’t remember his face at all.”

“ah.” both girls react the same way, nodding at your words.

“why not text him?” mai suggests.

“nah, too early for that.” you decline.

“well, we can walk around where the second years usually are. or we can just wait on teru.” mai revealed plan b and plan c.

you and min agreed, opting for the second one. you’ve got eight hours of class school anyway, there’s time to see him “by chance.”

-> 10:02 A.M ◟ first break of the day.

two minutes into your break and you felt your phone vibrate. you slid it slightly out of your pocket — just enough to where you can read the time and notifications.

(1) new message from terushima: lemme borrow five dollars

instagram: follower request from @tachosandcheese , @itadoredbull

+99 new emails.

“anything important? did he message?” min teases, eyeing your phone.

“who’s tachosandcheese and itadoredbull?” mai asks, slightly impressed by the usernames.

“no clue and no, he didn’t text.” you press your phone’s power button. “i’ll view those two insta accounts later.”

shrugging, you stood up from your chair, stretching your limbs before you make a move to the cafeteria.

“she’s already gone— mai, can’t we stay here?”

“get your lazy ass up, min.”

“i hate you both.”

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

-> 10:02 A.M ◟ in the gym.

megumi and the four friends are currently downing entire water bottles in one go. having physical education class first thing in the morning isn’t what they’d look forward to. this break is hardly a break. they have yet another p.e class awaiting them after.

once they calmed down, tacho started up a conversation.

“so, i was talking to itadori last night right?”

they hum in response.

“and we found min’s instagram profile.”

“doesn’t surprise me.” toeni shrugs.

“yeah, did you find the one for megumi’s?” tichi says what megumi wanted to.

“well,” itadori unlocks his phone, showing the group a screenshot of an instagram account. “we think this is her.”

the group leans in, studying your supposed profile’s aesthetic.

“that’s a private private account, for real. it doesn’t look like there’s her name anywhere.” toeni’s the first to say something.

they all look at megumi, waiting for him to clarify. he’s the only one who knows your name.

“it’s not there.” he satisfies their curiosity again.

“dude, if we requested the wrong profile i’ll deactivate.”

“i’m with you on that one, itadori.”

they all continue to gossip, taking turns to tell a story until the class of hell begun once more. hopefully they can hold out until lunch break… hopefully.

-> 02:36 P.M ◟ end of school: not so unsuccessful.

the thing megumi looked forward to the most did not happen. he’s trying to not dwell on it too much — you’re a senior student, chances of you being busy are high.

somehow, it seems as if megumi has a skill for meeting your friends after school but not you. this time he was stopped by a guy who quickly informed him of the completely platonic relationship between him and you.

the information given to megumi by the friend, teru, was quite helpful — if megumi had the balls that is.

“if you’re looking to meet her alone, go to that large oak tree, she’s always there.”

advice he’s going to hold dearly. he won’t go directly (at least not right now) but he’ll get a view of you from a spot closer.

double tapping on his phone’s screen, he unlocks it before locking it back immediately. he wants to text, but school just finished. he will wait another four hours.

it’s not like he’ll be free to talk anyway. his friends decided that he needs to experience going on dates. there’s an unfortunate busy schedule of arcade and night market business later.

P.O.V SWITCH ⟡ THIRD-YEAR STUDENT, Y/N.

you’ve nothing to do — literally. chores are completed, no assignments, finished end-game content on your games, watched everything that interested you — quite literally nothing to do.

it’s eight p.m. you lost count on the amount of times you changed positions in bed and let out sighs of boredom. you’d call your friends but that’ll just end up with you all complaining about boredom.

at times like this you wished you had a boyfriend or something of the sort to be entertained by.

…

megumi.

but he hasn’t texted. should you do it first? he did text first initially.

grabbing your phone, opened megumi’s chat, ready to send a few messages.

y/n: hey wyd rn

megumi is typing…

megumi: hi. i’m at a night market with my friends.

megumi: the reception’s a bit bad.

megumi: the messages aren’t sending fast enough.

—

y/n: woah was that ur first triple text???

y/n: go megumi go!

—

megumi: you’re rubbing off on me a bit.

—

y/n: glad to hear my influence is strong

—

megumi: are you bored?

—

y/n: bored to the point of death

y/n: how’d u know

—

megumi: [photo attachment]

megumi: would you like one?

megumi: sorry. the messages aren’t sending in order.

megumi: but which keychain do you like?

—

y/n: thats ok dw

y/n: as for the keychains uhhh

y/n: i cant choose u do it

—

megumi: are you sure?

—

y/n: yeah do it

megumi is typing…

“how bad is the reception over there… he’s been typing for a hot minute,” you mumbled, unaware of the smile settled on your face.

megumi: nvm. it won’t send.

megumi: i’ll send a voice message.

—

y/n: fine by me bro

megumi’s message made you realise you also somewhat forgot what his voice sounded like. your boredom has officially been defeated.

megumi: [+ voice message: 00:20s]

“hi, y/n – if that’s how you pronounce it. i’ll buy you the black keychain since it'll match anything. i’m not sure if you’d want any— is that the girl? hi we’re megumi’s friends!! i’m tac— fuck off, tacho. as i was saying – it’s megumi speaking by the way – would you like anything else?”

the chaos of the voice message got a laugh out of you. you could’ve heard a faint “he’s so mean!” at the end of it – it was probably the tacho guy.

—

y/n: mmmm i dont want anything really

y/n: just buy two of what ur getting

y/n: we’ll match

—

megumi: sure.

megumi: talk to you later or when i get back.

megumi: sorry about my friends.

—

y/n: it’s okkkkkk they seem fun

y/n: mine would’ve stolen my phone during the voice message

—

megumi: seems like our friend groups are alike.

megumi: later. sleep well if you’re going to sleep.

—

y/n: and you stay safe!!

megumi is offline.

and the boredom returns. man, you really do need a little entertainment from a guy. just look at how megumi kept you smiling when he’s only met you once. tragic.

‘if tomorrow’s saturday…’ the voice in your head ponders, trying to piece together a potential date. it appears you have a gift or two to collect; maybe — just maybe you can further this short talking stage. you’re too impatient for it anyway.

[phoward89]

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: When Coriolanus signs you out of the hospital to bring you to his Corso penthouse, you see a glimpse of his dark side. Will that glimpse make you run away from him or to him?

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, Groping, Slapping, um...trying to think of anything else.

Here's the 2nd part of Forever & Ever, My Darling Rose. I gave the Reader a last name, Halvir, in this just to make some scenarios etc a bit easier to write. But the Readers first name is up to you lovely and wonderful readers to come up with.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 2:

Coriolanus marched towards the nurses’ station with a haughty airs to him. He gave off an entitled, but dangerous aurora that had the nurses shaking in their white nursing hats. He'd threatened to kill every single one of their loved ones (friends, family, pets, estranged family, etc) if something happened to you and the nurses were terrified that he'd make good on that promise. Considering you went out of your mind with a nightmare and cornered yourself into your room, resulting in him being called there to calm you down, the nurses were fearful.

The nurses quickly grabbed their charts and scurried off, excuses that they had to check on patients echoed into the air, as the head gamemaker got closer to the front desk. Patients that are most likely asleep since it was nearly 3 in the morning. Yes, the nurses left their charge nurse behind to deal with the wrath of Coriolanus Snow. The nurse assigned to you was the first to bolt.

“I'm signing Y/N Halvir out since your staff is too incompetent to properly care for a victor.” Coriolanus firminly told the charge nurse as he came to a stop right at the desk she was sitting behind, all by herself since the staff abandoned her to face a fate worse than death alone.

The charge nurse refused to meet Coriolanus’ eye while tentatively informing him, “Head Gamemaker Snow, sir, it's ill advised to sign her out. She hasn't been checked by a doctor and she seems to be dealing with some post traumatic stress.”

Wrong Answer. Coriolanus was outraged that some old nurse had the gall to tell him that he couldn't do what he felt best for his, HIS, darling rose. What did that old hag know? If it wasn't for her calling him, you would've hyperventilated and passed out from sheer fear in the corner of your room.

A private room that he was footing the bill for, by the way.

Well, looks like he'll just have to make the charge nurse’s loved ones disappear for her lack of skills tending to you. He'll also find out who was your assigned nurse, make that useless twit disappear along with her loved ones. Well, the Citadel could always use some more lab rats to conduct mutt experiments on.

“It may be ill advised, but I assure you that I am signing Y/N Halvir out of this hospital and taking her with me, where she'll be properly cared for.” He calmly told the nurse as his cold blue eyes cut her down. Leaning down over the desk, causing him to be face to face with the old nurse, Coriolanus hissed, “Your insubordination has won your son, a doctor, and his family a transfer to District 6. Seems like the hospitals there are in need of more doctors due to the rise in morphling addiction amongst the district citizens. It's such a shame that both of your grandchildren, a boy and a girl, will now be eligible for the Hunger Games as District 6 citizens.”

The charge nurse shook with fear as she pleaded, “Please, Head Gamemaker Snow, don't do that. Please, don't be so harsh.” Quickly, she worked on her computer while adding in, “I'm printing out the discharge paperwork now, just don't send my family away to District 6.”

Coriolanus just stood up straight, his full height of 6’0 towering over the charge nurse as she sat at the desk, typing and clicking away at the computer. He didn't say a word to her, just stared her down with cold, dead, blue eyes. 

The charge nurse swallowed down a sick feeling that was welling up while rising from her seat to scurry over to the printer. She silently prayed to the printer, which was growling louder than a feral animal, to hurry up and spit out the paperwork for your discharge. 

Coriolanus grew bored waiting for the necessary paperwork for your release. So bored that he was tapping his shiny black shoes against the linoleum floor. 

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click-

“Here’s that paperwork for you to sign.” The charge nurse told Coriolanus while hurrying over to him. Quickly she placed the paperwork on the desk before grabbing a pen from the cup on top of the desk. “And here's a pen, sir.” She practically threw the pen at him.

“Thank you, but your family's still headed to 6.” He simply said while signing and initialing the stack of paperwork he was given. It seemed a bit of an overkill in his opinion.

The nurse turned as white as a sheet upon hearing Coriolanus’ words, but she didn't dare try to fight him on it. Her family's fate was sealed by the sadistic head gamemaker, a man whose temperament was worse than his father, the late General Crassus Snow.

Once Coriolanus was finished with your paperwork, he left the front desk without so much as a thank you or a goodnight to the nurse, and returned to your room. You were sitting on the bed watching some late night rerun on Capitol tv whenever he entered your room. Looking between you and the tv, he chuckled, “You like the god awful cooking show where the chef curses out his potential staff?”

“We only get 3 channels on our tv back home in District 12 and this is one of the channels.” You explained to him while he made his way further into the room. Truthfully, you were lucky to even have a tv since you lived in the Seam. Your brother Rein and his girlfriend, Ashlie, had scrimped and saved for years to be able to buy the thing. It was small and second hand; only picked up 3 channels. The Capitol News, Capitol Movie Classics, and Capitol Channel 3. You wished there were more channels, but you were grateful for the ones you had. Most people in the Seam didn't even have that. You know that your neighbor, Corbin, and his Auntie (a mining widow) didn't even have a tv. 

As Coriolanus placed your paperwork down on your side table, you stared right at the tv (as the top chef called one of his potential staff a stupid fucking donkey for burning a risotto) and honestly revealed, “Plus watching all of these chefs get cursed out and treated horribly by their potential boss reminds me that somebody out there has it worse than me. Even though I live in the Seam with my coal miner brother and his girlfriend, who's a local barmaid at the hob, nobody's ever treated me as horribly and rudely as that award winning chef treats the people competing on his show for a job in his restaurant.”

“Hmmm…” Coriolanus hummed. Standing by your side, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear while asking, “And what of your mother?”

“I haven't seen her since she ran off when I was 5 and Rein was 15.” You flatly remarked.

“I see.” The platinum blonde man nodded. He felt rage boil in his cold, icy veins. How could somebody leave you as a child? You were so perfect, so innocent. You didn't deserve to be willingly abandoned by your mother. Oh, if he ever got a hold of that useless bitch she was dead. He'd make sure that she died a torturous death too.

“You signed me out AMA?” You asked, glancing over the form that was on your side table 

“Yes, I signed you out against medical advice because the staff here is doing you, my darling rose, more harm then good. They're too incompetent to care for my Victor and you, Y/N, deserve nothing but the best care.” Moving to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, he told you, “I had your reaping dress cleaned and brought here for you when you were admitted. I thought you'd feel more comfortable in that than your uniform from the arena.”

“Thank you, Head Gam-Coriolanus. I appreciate it.” You thanked him, a bit nervous about what name to call him. In the end you decided to just call him Coriolanus, but it still felt heavy and wrong on your tongue.

“Please, just call me Coryo.” He countered while crossing the room with your simple cotton floral dress in hand. “Now let's get you out of your hospital gown and into your pretty dress so we can go home.” He suggested while coming to a stop right at your bedside.

Instead of standing and stripping naked like Coriolanus thought you'd do, you arched a brow at him instead only to ask, “Home? But I thought you were taking me to a penthouse here in the Capitol?” 

“I am taking you to the Corso penthouse which is now your new home, my darling rose.” He slowly explained to you, as if you were a small child, while placing your dress down on the bed. Shaking his head, he grabbed your upper arm and pulled you to stand up. 

“What the hell are you doing, Coriolanus?!” You shrieked, pulling away from him as he started to untie your hospital gown. 

Grabbing you roughly by the upper arms and turning you to look at him, he stared down at you with cold, icy eyes. “I'm tired and want to go home and get some sleep. You will be a good girl and let me help you change.” 

You tried to break his hold while assuring him, “I can get changed myself. You can go wait in the hall, Coriolanus.”

“No, my darling rose, you can't. Now, be a good girl and let me help you so we can get out of here.” He told you in a tone that was sickeningly sweet.

“Corio-” You began to protest, only for him to slap you across the face. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as your hand automatically flew up to cradle your stinging cheek.

“I told you to be a good girl and let me help you, Y/N.” He sighed. 

“You hit me…” You trailed off in shock as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Oh, my darling rose, I didn't mean to hurt you.” The pretty platinum blonde man cooed while prying your hand away from the cheek that he’d struck in his frustrated anger. His blue eyes raked over your cheek, which was raw and red from the slap. Seeing your tears rolling hotly down your cheeks turned him on, as horrible as that sounded. Brushing his knuckles along your puffy cheekbone, that would surely bruise within an hour or so, he softly said, “I don't like brats and backtalk, Y/N. If only you were a good girl then I wouldn't have slapped you.”

His words left your mind going a mile a minute. So, wait, it was your fault he slapped you? All because you didn't want his help changing? That didn't make sense. Should it make sense?

You were drawn out of your mental musings whenever you felt Coriolanus’ tongue lap up the tears along your cheek. Your breath hitched at the action. Your felt a tightness in your chest and a fluttering in your lower belly as he tilted your face to lick the tears of your untouched cheek. 

As his tongue traced your cheekbone, lapping up the salty tear stains on your skin, you felt a tingle in your core. Oh no. You can't have this reaction to him. It's wrong; he’s a married man and older than you. Hell, he's even older than your older brother.

Even though you knew being turned on by him was wrong, it didn't stop you from rubbing your thighs together.

When he pulled away from you, he gave you a lined smile and suggested, “Now that we have an understanding, let's get you in your pretty dress so we can go home.”

Your head was fuzzy with want and you had a slight ache in between your legs, so you were in no shape to protest or fight back. “Okay.” Your breath was shaky as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Seems like I have quite the effect on you, my darling rose.” Coriolanus smirked as his nose ran along your jawline. Your heartbeat was beating quickly, perhaps too quickly, while you felt heat pool in between your legs. Oh god, you've never felt like this before (yea, you've been turned on before, but not to the point where you felt uncomfortable and wanted to rip your hair out) and it both startled and excited you. 

He licked the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “I must confess, Y/N, that you also have quite the effect on me.” He whispered into your ear before pulling away and leaving you to stare up at him with shock all over your face. “Don't look so shocked, my darling. You’re very beautiful and you're resilient; a victor.” 

Turning you around, he gently untied your hospital gown as if he was untying the bows to his favorite piece of lingerie. When he was done, he spun you around, nearly knocking you off balance and slid the gown off your shoulders. Your eyes darted to the floor as your breasts were exposed to him. You felt so small under his gaze and towering form as he slid the gown the rest of the way off you. 

“You have such nice tits.” Coriolanus smiled in awe, lust shining in his eyes, as he began to palm your nice tits.

“Coriolanus-” You started, only for him to cut you off with the request of, “Coryo, call me Coryo.”, as he began to run his thumbs over your nipples while cupping your tits in his large, calloused hands.

“Coryo, we can't do this here. We're in my hospital room.” You told him despite his actions causing you to get even wetter then you already were between your legs.

“It's a private room, my darling rose. I paid enough for it, so I don't see the harm in us getting my money's worth.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Did he seriously want to mess around in your hospital room? Oh no. No, no, no. No. You're drawing that line at that. 

Your hands wrapped around his wrist as you told him, “I just want to get out of here, Coryo. You promised to take me home, remember?”

You prayed that your words knocked some sense into him because you didn't want your first time doing sexual things to be in a hospital room, where a nurse could walk in at any time, with him (he was a married man for God's sakes!).

His demeanor deflated and he sighed, “Yes, my darling rose, I did promise you that didn't I?”, while pulling away from you. He grabbed your dress from the bed and motioned for you to lift up your hands.

“What about my underwear?” You asked, feeling a bit exposed as Coryo looked you up and down with a hungry glint in his eye. It was as if he was a starving man and you were a juicy steak ready to eat.

“You don't need them, darling. Once we get to our penthouse you'll be changing into a shirt to sleep in anyways.” He explained while motioning, once again, for you to lift your arms. This time you obeyed him and he pulled your best floral dress over your head. He smoothed it out, only to press a kiss to your forehead and smile. “You're all ready to go, my Victor.”

The car ride to the luxury penthouse seemed to take ages. You were alone with Coriolanus since he was driving and it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. After what happened in your hospital room (him stripping you and groping your boobs) you didn't think it was a good idea to be alone with him. He was married and you didn't want to lose your innocence, all of your firsts, your virginity to a man that would never be yours no matter the chemistry or effect you had on each other.

You were staring aimlessly out the window when Coryo startled you by placing a hand on your thigh. You didn't say a word, just sighed uncomfortably.

Looking over at you with a worried expression, Coriolanus asked, “What's wrong, Y/N? You seem troubled.”

Pulling your eyes off the window, you snapped your head to look at the platinum blonde in the driver's seat and honestly told him how you felt. “You shouldn't be resting your hand on my thigh, Coryo. You’re married.”

The gold ring on his finger mocked him as it shines against the red and cream floral fabric of your dress. He never had anyone turn him down because of that thin gold band he was branded with by saying ‘I do’ to Livia Cardew, well that is until now. Coriolanus knew that you were young and innocent from District 12 so the thought of being a mistress would horrify you. He knew that he had to ease your worries, so he simply told you, “Don't worry about my wife, darling. I’m taking care of everything; she won't be my wife much longer.”

“I wasn't aware ya’ll were having marriage problems. The Capitol gossip rags make it seem like the marriage is a happy one.”

“Things aren't always as they seem here in the Capitol, my darling rose.” He told you before correcting your grammar with a stern, “And it's I wasn't aware that you were having marital problems.” Patting you on the thigh as he switched lanes, he explained, “You're not in District 12 anymore and since you'll be staying here in the Capitol for a while it's best that you learn how to speak properly; like a Capitol citizen.”

You didn't say a word, just numbly nodded. You never thought that staying in the Capitol while Victor’s Village and your house was constructed meant changing how you talked. You never thought you talked strange, well until now. “Do I sound weird when I talk, Coryo?” You asked, staring at the side of his face as he drove.

“No.” He shook his head. “We just need to work on some small grammar errors here and there, but no, darling, you sound just fine when you talk.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, turning your attention back to looking out your window. 

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, “You're a rose that just needs some extra pruning and tender care, but fortunately for you I'm an excellent gardener that favors white roses.” His thumb grazed your thigh as he explained, “White roses are the perfect symbol of purity and perfection.” As he pulled up to a large building, his baritone heavily hung in the air with the meaningful words of, “Unblemished; untouched, just like you, my darling rose.”

But how long would you be Unblemished and untouched? Would he take your innocence as soon as you entered the penthouse or would he wait until he was free from his wife? The bigger question was did you even want him to take your innocence? To give you all of your first experiences with a man? Now that was the million dollar question you didn't have an answer for. Or maybe you did, but didn't want to acknowledge it.

AN: Did anyone catch the tv show easter egg I threw in there?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 , @purriteen , @poppyflower-22 , @meetmeatyourworst , @whipwhoops , @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE 

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed. 

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows. 

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs. 

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold. 

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ). 

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back. 

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes. 

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning ) 

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light. 

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again. 

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?” 

You sigh, sprint up the second floor. 

“Y/n?” 

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely. 

“What?” 

“The letters…” 

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?” 

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall. 

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.” 

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse. 

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead. 

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit. 

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city. 

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” 

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon ) 

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city. 

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door. 

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile. 

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right. 

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.” 

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose. 

“Jaehyun.” 

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice. 

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink. 

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players. 

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe. 

“Yeah.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear. 

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.  

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle. 

Fuck. 

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you. 

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–” 

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong. 

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes. 

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae. 

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.  

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail. 

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit. 

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.” 

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back. 

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door. 

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before. 

You side eyes him still and sits up. 

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice. 

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone. 

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit. 

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.” 

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious. 

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him. 

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders. 

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again. 

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it. 

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees. 

“Too bad, too bad.” 

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again. 

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?” 

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.” 

Hyunjae smirks. 

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.” 

“Sure.” He nods. 

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.” 

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.” 

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.” 

( friday evening ) 

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink. 

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on. 

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him. 

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand. 

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.  

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear. 

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves). 

“Not so fast.” 

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully. 

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner. 

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks. 

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe. 

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles. 

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house. 

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens. 

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out. 

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again. 

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat. 

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square. 

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions. 

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass. 

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month. 

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room. 

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences. 

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book. 

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?” 

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings. 

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone. 

“Sorry.” You deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off. 

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks. 

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub. 

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party. 

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first. 

“Oh, Y/n.” 

He smiles, still holds the book before him. 

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.” 

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence. 

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously. 

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly. 

“Why are you here?” You ask. 

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk. 

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively. 

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page. 

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.  

You nod. 

“We all do.” 

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence. 

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing. 

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option). 

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. . 

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly. 

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.” 

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle. 

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.” 

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?” 

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap. 

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after). 

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers. 

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again. 

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor. 

“Mindy?” He says. 

“Oh, Yeah.” 

They both laugh. 

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.” 

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol). 

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub. 

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open. 

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.” 

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back. 

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room. 

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls. 

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain. 

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.” 

“I am?” 

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness. 

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree. 

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return. 

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest. 

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame. 

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing. 

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.” 

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state. 

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs. 

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end. 

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.” 

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down. 

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him. 

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist. 

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–” 

“Sunwoo!” 

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above. 

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him. 

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you. 

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense. 

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.” 

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans. 

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path. 

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back. 

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated. 

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms. 

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back. 

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow. 

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him. 

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face. 

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence. 

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you. 

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette. 

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.” 

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.” 

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut. 

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs. 

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric. 

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps. 

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.” 

“Oh, Juyeon?” 

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line. 

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him. 

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead. 

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?” 

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it. 

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod. 

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head. 

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity. 

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.” 

“Really?” 

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?” 

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack. 

“Jump on.” 

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt. 

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.” 

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly. 

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting. 

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks. 

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator. 

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap. 

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat. 

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes. 

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside. 

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.” 

You look up, “Oh.” 

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap. 

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head. 

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings. 

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?” 

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet. 

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.” 

They sit there until the lady comes out again. 

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing. 

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer. 

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair. 

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother. 

“Oh, you see!” 

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does. 

After another conversation, the topic returns. 

“So when did you meet?” 

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither. 

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.” 

Lady nods, “Since when?” 

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?” 

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.” 

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile. 

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze. 

“Then I confessed in university.” 

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both. 

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass. 

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to. 

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air. 

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay. 

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood. 

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat. 

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it. 

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers. 

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.” 

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.” 

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat. 

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.  

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits. 

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’. 

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor. 

“Really?” You say surprised. 

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.” 

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t. 

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly. 

“What?” You lean away. 

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!” 

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back. 

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.” 

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders. 

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks. 

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.” 

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders. 

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too. 

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears. 

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”. 

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers. 

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring. 

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop. 

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips. 

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move. 

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.” 

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?” 

“At the library.” 

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans. 

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it. 

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down. 

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side. 

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces. 

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week. 

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph. 

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate. 

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow. 

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs. 

“Did anything happen?” 

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted. 

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time? 

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers. 

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence. 

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae. 

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight. 

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past. 

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated. 

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party. 

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines. 

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision. 

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak. 

“What?” 

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats. 

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head. 

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.” 

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world. 

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…” 

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye. 

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?” 

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time. 

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.” 

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp. 

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within. 

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly. 

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs. 

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer. 

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again. 

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from. 

“Bye Y/n, see you around!” 

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals. 

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only. 

“You never take water with you, Ice God.” 

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun. 

“You’re close with Sunwoo?” 

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.” 

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses. 

“Let’s run.” He says. 

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain. 

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.” 

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats. 

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does. 

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable. 

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot. 

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch. 

They stand still catching breath. 

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers. 

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you. 

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look. 

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X. 

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently. 

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.” 

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’. 

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer. 

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret. 

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric. 

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you. 

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up? 

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace. 

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted. 

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders. 

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear. 

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure. 

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly. 

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back. 

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain. 

“, and it fits you.” 

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing. 

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles. 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” 

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too. 

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice. 

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!” 

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe. 

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped. 

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses. 

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!” 

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid. 

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why. 

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic. 

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact. 

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth. 

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away. 

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally say. 

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again. 

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart. 

“I was-” 

“It’s oka-” 

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks. 

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you. 

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular. 

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling. 

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past. 

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field. 

“I actually like you too, Y/n.” 

It hitches in your throat. 

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks. 

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why. 

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot. 

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside. 

05 . CHAPTER FIVE 

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games. 

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come. 

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened. 

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely. 

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same. 

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”. 

He doesn’t get it. 

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling. 

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup. 

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head. 

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot. 

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned. 

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain. 

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages. 

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room. 

You suddenly shout, “Move!” 

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power. 

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads. 

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring; 

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest. 

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor. 

“I’m sorry-” 

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net. 

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome. 

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up. 

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.” 

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure. 

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.” 

He pauses. 

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.” 

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles. 

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..” 

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.  

They both laugh. 

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch. 

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why. 

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields. 

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out. 

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion). 

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm. 

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs. 

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?” 

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face. 

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.” 

“Why not?” 

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.” 

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.” 

“Don’t do this.” You complain. 

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth. 

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend. 

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball. 

“I missed.” He deadpan. 

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon. 

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?” 

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp. 

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary. 

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip. 

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack. 

“You stole my pocky?” 

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from. 

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends. 

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.” 

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them. 

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you. 

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing. 

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm. 

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat. 

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points. 

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n. 

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face. 

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you. 

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down. 

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder. 

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song. 

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round. 

He dares to look down.  He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own. 

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer. 

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him. 

“You do it then.” He smiles. 

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.” 

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless. 

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair. 

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder. 

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink. 

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand. 

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal. 

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong. 

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling. 

“Y/n!” 

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek. 

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and  to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point,  nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work. 

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color. 

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms. 

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.” 

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen. 

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off. 

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups. 

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in. 

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net. 

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts. 

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way. 

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too. 

“I have some for you.” 

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier. 

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate. 

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food. 

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral. 

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine. 

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.” 

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?” 

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.” 

“My stones?” You tilt. 

“You.” 

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies. 

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.” 

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.” 

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious. 

“You remember that?” He says surprised. 

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them. 

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly. 

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms. 

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age. 

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side. 

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say. 

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles,  “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.” 

 You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence. 

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him. 

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing. 

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good. 

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence. 

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin. 

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell. 

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them. 

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple. 

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining. 

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close. 

“You know…” He starts. 

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing. 

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.” 

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way. 

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out. 

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes. 

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes. 

“I’m actually a Capricorn.” 

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again. 

“You’re really cute.” He smiles. 

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?” 

He nods that his fringe follows. 

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.” 

He pouts with big eyes. 

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly. 

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots. 

You pretend to think, “Hmm.” 

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room. 

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open. 

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor. 

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest. 

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes. 

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?” 

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story. 

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die. 

“Eric?” You lie down. 

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you. 

“I forgot.” 

Eric snorts, “Really?” 

“Mm.” You insist. 

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”. 

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field. 

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely. 

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you. 

For now, he’s in denial. 

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently. 

06 . CHAPTER SIX 

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels. 

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time. 

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles. 

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon. 

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight. 

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third. 

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left. 

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.” 

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name. 

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you. 

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows. 

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively. 

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking. 

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk. 

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again. 

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase. 

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across. 

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently. 

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward. 

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen. 

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question. 

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction. 

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?” 

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade. 

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass. 

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head. 

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly. 

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that. 

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life. 

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off. 

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up. 

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders. 

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up. 

The space opens again. 

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything. 

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became. 

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.” 

He looks up. 

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly. 

“But you’re actually very kind.” 

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression. 

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently. 

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles. 

( wednesday, afternoon ) 

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place. 

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet. 

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something. 

“You’re sad.” 

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention. 

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently. 

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin. 

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired. 

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down. 

You nod. 

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” 

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon. 

“Honesty is always valued.” 

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen. 

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.” 

You smile weakly. 

07 . FINAL CHAPTER 

( saturday, evening ) 

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows. 

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps. 

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely. 

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted. 

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door. 

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you. 

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods. 

“Welcome in!” 

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject. 

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking. 

“Do you know where Eric is?” 

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms. 

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him. 

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric. 

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him. 

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward. 

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you. 

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.” 

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too. 

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water. 

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t. 

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting. 

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles. 

You smile too and nod. 

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool. 

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.” 

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body. 

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it. 

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.” 

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.” 

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond. 

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.” 

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go. 

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows. 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house. 

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.” 

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood. 

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met. 

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up. 

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins. 

You found him. 

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away. 

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you. 

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does. 

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.” 

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes . 

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.  

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.” 

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts. 

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest. 

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue. 

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment. 

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window. 

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–” 

“I love you too.” 

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization. 

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time. 

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement. 

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you. 

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says. 

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter. 

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?” 

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking. 

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.” 

You pause. 

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position. 

“Not when you exist.” 

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face. 

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer. 

Though, Sunwoo has other plans. 

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts. 

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

[lovewithmary]

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: I know I said you guys would choose the chapter BUT this one got away from me and I got impatient

previous next series masterlist

"Charles Leclerc, you are the world champion!"

Charles and Max stood on the 1st and 2nd podium respectively, followed by Lando on the 3rd. "You think she's watching?" Charles whispered to Max, who nodded while waving at the crowd.

Unfortunately, due to the agreement they and Evie had, Evie wasn't going to attend any races until their relationship was going to be revealed. The three of them had it all planned, so Max and Charles were now counting down the days until they could finally tell the public that Evie Stark was theirs.

They could've easily told the public that they were all together, but the three of them knew that their relationship was going to face some sort of backlash, especially with Evie being the only girl in the relationship. And the backlash would grow, especially when Stark Industries became a sponsor and then Charles became a driver for Red Bull.

Evie was fully aware and prepared for the hate she was going to receive, but Charles and Max were a bit apprehensive. No matter how much she tried to reassure them that she could handle the hate, they were nervous for her. So, to compromise, they were going to announce their relationship once the excitement of Charles being the new Redbull driver died down.

The sound of cameras clicking was all they could hear, so Max and Charles stood next to each other then Max rested his hand against Charles' back whilst they both held up their hands.

Once they got the signal, Charles and Max picked up their champagne bottles and started spraying each other and Lando, to which the McLaren driver tried to retaliate.

When the champagne started running out, Max took off his hat and started to shake his hair, droplets of champagne flinging in different directions. He saw that Charles was not doing the same thing, but he saw something or someone that made him stop.

"Schat?" Max blurted out without thinking, making Charles and Lando stop.

"Eva's here?"

"Mate, I know you're older than me but your vision should not be this bad—"

"Don't finish your sentence, Norris. But I'm serious, I think I see her," Max interrupted Lando.

Charles and Lando looked and they saw Evie standing near Christian and Geri, the Stark girl smirking at the sight of them looking at her and giving them a playful wave.

Max and Charles gave a look at each other, and the both of them immediately understood each other as they left the podium and made a beeline to the crowd to Evie. "I thought we were following the plan?" Charles asked.

"Well, I lied. Oops, my bad?" Evie shrugged and smiled at the two.

Charles then grabbed onto her and began kissing her, ignoring the whispers and gasps they were getting from the people around them. Evie yelped at the sudden movement but quickly kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

They pulled away and her expression was one of disgust. "You taste like champagne," she said.

"My turn," Max said, and turned Evie to kiss her as well. He tried pulling her as close as he could to him as possible, her hands resting on his face while they kissed.

Once they had pulled away, Evie looked kind of dazed. "What happened to waiting?" she asked, referring to their compromise.

"Oops," Max started.

"Our bad," Charles finished.

eviestark's instagram

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 34032012 others eviestark: who knew my type was world champions? 💜

but in all honesty, I'm proud of both of my boyfriends. they've worked tirelessly to get to this moment and I'm so happy to have witnessed this in person. here's to many more wdcs, boys, I love you both so much 💜

tagged: maxverstappen1 charles_leclerc

comments

charles_leclerc: amor 💜 ↳ eviestark: amore 💜 liked by eviestark

maxverstappen1: schat 💜 ↳ eviestark: maxie 💜 liked by eviestark

user1: evie disappears for a fucking year only for her to come back to reveal that she's dating two f1 drivers??? ↳ user2: AT LEAST NAME THE DRIVERS. MAX VERSTAPPEN AND CHARLES LECLERC

user3: are u going to disappear again 😭 I don't think I can handle you disappearing again ↳ charles_leclerc: not if we can help it ↳ maxverstappen1: she has to attend as many races as she can now that our relationship has been revealed ↳ eviestark: there's your answer 😭😭

user4: THIS WAS NOT IN MY BINGO CARD FOR THIS YEAR

user5: WE ALL THOUGHT HER AND CHARLES BROKE UP BUT THE TRUTH IS SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING??? ↳ user6: they said fuck love triangles and let's love each other ❤️

user7: okay but how did tony react? ↳ eviestark: well, before we told him, max and charles were shitting their pants bc of how nervous they were. but he patted them on the back and said, "good luck" 🙄 ↳ maxverstappen1: correction*** we weren't that nervous ↳ charles_leclerc: ^^ we were calm ↳ eviestark: translation: the both of them nearly ran out of the room when they saw my dad ↳ user9: LMAOOOOO TONY STARK IS SO UNSERIOUS 😭 ↳ user11: NOT EVIE EXPOSING HER BOYFRIENDS

user8: considering evie got stark industries to invest in red bull racing, is it fair to say that charles and max are the sugar babies?? ↳ eviestark: yeah ↳ charles_leclerc: yes ↳ maxverstappen1: definitely

user12: I can't even get one boyfriend, evie has 2 😭

user13: okay but do you live in new york or monaco now??? ↳ eviestark: it was 2 against 1 and no matter how much I tried to convince them, I moved with them to monaco :(

user14: SHE WAS AT THE RACE??? ↳ user15: I WAS THERE AND NO ONE KNEW SHE WAS THERE UNTIL CHARLES AND MAX RUSHED TO HER AND GAVE HER KISSES 😭

user16: "here's to many more wdcs, boys, I love you both so much 💜" I'M SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY TONIGHT

user17: is no one gonna talk about how many times SkySports replayed their kisses??? they had different angles and everything ↳ user18: they even captured christian looking at them in disgust (like a dad) and geri smiling at them

landonorris: will never forgive charles and max for leaving me on the stage and looked like an idiot by myself ↳ eviestark: they don't even need to do anything and you already look like an idiot ↳ landonorris: never visit the paddock, please ↳ eviestark: too late, I'll go to annoy you ↳ maxverstappen1: only to annoy lando? ↳ charles_leclerc: there are better people to see at the paddock, amor ↳ eviestark: don't worry, I won't forget about you guys 💜 ↳ landonorris: stop fucking flirting under my comments 😭🙄

[aayakashii]

touch starved

small fic after I saw @berrygoodjob hc about Alan being touch starved...... couldnt stop thinking about it afterwards. This might have a part 2 if I get more ideas, but we'll see.

Gender neutral MC mostly (mention of a skirt). English isn't my 1st language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Also, I usually post on ao3 so this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr, if the formatting is wonky, I'm sorry!!

Edit: changed it to 2nd person pov to match the future chapters.

"Captain?" you knocked gently on the hardwood door right on front of you. It looked sturdy and way too thick for a normal bedroom door, but then again, this is the room of a ghoul.

You wiped the sweat of your palms on your skirt, afraid you'd somehow smudge Professor Dante's careful handwriting as you clenched the papers against your chest.

You hated doing this. Not necessarily presenting another batch of mission papers, no. Even if a mission puts your neck on the line, there are some ghouls you could trust in a heartbeat, like most of the boys from Frostheim and Jabberwock.

What you hated is being right there. In that exact place.

You hated being in Vagastrom.

"Captain? Alan, are you there?" you knocked again, a bit more forcefully this time, since maybe he just didn't hear you behind the door.

The smell of musk and sweat was everywhere in that place, suffocating you, making your heart race with anxiety and fear for your safety.

There were men everywhere, wherever you looked. Scary, burly, big, probably-loose-with-their-morals men who followed you, hungrily, with their eyes, whenever you strode inside the garage and into the dorm rooms.

They wouldn't come near you, though. They knew messing with you was messing with not only their captain, but the captains of other houses and Darkwick itself. Being cursed an honor student had its perks.

What you dreaded, in fact, was seeing Vagastrom's vice-captain. The cunning, untrustworthy, venomous, undeserving of his position as vice-captain, Kurosagi Leo. You shivered thinking about his lifeless eyes and smile filled with hidden intentions – he was the true reason why you despised being in Vagastrom.

The door opened right before you lifted your hand to knock a third time as your anxiety peaked as you thought about Leo.

"What are you doing here?" the man in front of you gasped in surprise upon seeing you before him.

"I told you to send me a message before coming to Vagastrom if you ever needed to talk... You're not supposed to walk alone around here" the Vagastrom Captain sighed after lightly scolding you "Come, you can enter."

Alan was different, though.

You followed behind him, staring at his broad back, while his right hand massaged his left shoulder. His room smelled like eucalyptus, a welcome respite, and you breathed in deeply the comforting scent while he turned around and looked at you.

Alan was nothing like Leo.

People would talk and talk about his past, about how he was a scary deliquent who might have killed someone; about how he must be terrifyingly powerful if he controlled all of those delinquents on his own for so long; about how his stigma is made for destruction and pain; but every single day, all you could see were the way his eyes were kind and gentle as he looked at you.

"Are you okay?" he said, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his pants, shoulders stiff as ever "No one messed with you?"

"No, no," you shook your head, smiling to prove you were in one piece. "Everyone always leaves me alone in here. You don't need to worry. They know I work with the ghouls, so I guess that's all the protection I need. The only threat here is Leo, but he only threatens my mental health, to be fair." you said, laughing humorlessly.

Alan winced and looked apologetic at your comment.

"... Sorry. I still gotta learn to control him."

You shook your head once again.

"It's not your fault, Alan. You're a great captain." you smiled. "Speaking of being a captain, Professor Dante asked me to deliver these papers to you. It's a bureaucratic mission though, no outside work. Apparently, there are some student records missing, something in regards to personal information being omitted by some students."

Alan gently grabbed the papers from your hands, surveying the information as he sat down on the couch in the middle of his room.

He sighed deeply after scanning all the papers, rubbing his temples in a manner he probably have picked up from Frostheim's vice-captain, and slumped against the back cushion.

"Um... Is everything okay, Alan?" you asked, sitting beside him.

"... Yes. Just... a bit tired." he murmured.

You hummed in thought, surveying his face as he stared blankly at the ceiling. The dark circles under his eyes were very obvious under the fluorescent lights.

"Have you been sleeping properly? Resting?" you asked, tilting your head, trying to make eye contact with his reddened and tired eyes.

"Can't. Work has been piling up."

"You know you won't be able to work well if you're burnt out, don't you? Even ghouls need to rest, no matter how strong they are."

"..."

The extremely stoic man stayed silent, avoiding your gaze at all costs. For someone everyone called scary, he could act like a kid who had been caught with their hand inside a cookie jar at moments.

You sighed.

Your hand moved on its own before you could even register what you were doing. You felt the unexpected silk of his hair against your fingertips as you patted his head to comfort him, much like he had done to yourself many times previously.

Except, instead of gladly accepting it like you usually do, Alan flinched and scooted away from you and your hand, staring at your face, mouth agape and eyes wide in shock.

"I'm sorry!" you said, not sure of what you had done wrong, while shutting your eyes and putting your hands up like you were a bank robber who just had been caught by the police. "I was just! I didnt... I mean... I'm sorry!"

"Ghhh!"

You tentatively opened your eyes, hands still up, after hearing Alan emit what could only be described as a choking sound.

The Vagastrom Captain, Alan Mido, one of the scariest men in Darkwick Academy, had one of his hands covering his face as he stared wide-eyed at you.

And he was beet red.

"I. Uh. I'm. Uh..." he gasped, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Your head raced, a million miles per hour, as you saw him look away from your eyes, trying to put distance between the both of you on the sofa and get into terms with his own sudden embarrassment.

'Huh? Is he worried about hurting me? But… I thought his stigma only worked on his hands? Maybe my enhancement ability makes it work wherever I touch? Is that why he's so worried? But he wasn't even moving when I patted his head, maybe he was just caught off guard by me touching... him... Oh.'

Alan tried to recompose himself, still looking everywhere, but your direction. His cheeks still flushed red, while he scrunched his eyebrows in what appeared to be confusion, as if he wasn't understanding his own reaction as well.

'Oh. He's... incredibly touch starved, isn't he?' The thought dropped into your mind, like a single coin dropping into a fountain. Drip. And you were fully unable to shake it off.

It made sense despite it all, you figured. People barely approached Alan, as he was seen as a God by his house-mates and as a criminal by those outside Vagastrom.

He was incredibly hard to approach, his quiet personality making it hard to talk to him and his stoicism making it hard to figure out what he could be thinking.

Yet, there he was, like an open book. His red cheeks, stuttering words and wandering eyes saying exactly what he was thinking – what he wanted.

Before you could talk again or act on any more impulses, Alan forced a few dry coughs and cleaned his throat, picking up the papers once again as he got up fast from his seat. His face gradually went back to his usual color, and so did his stoic expression.

"Well, I will get to work on this as soon as I finish my job at the garage. Thanks for the delivery." he shook the papers way too eagerly. "Will message you once we can start working. Please close the door once you leave."

Alan strode away fast, still avoiding any and all eye contact, and quickly left you alone in his room. You stared at the diligently closed hardwood door that seemed to create an ocean of distance between him and yourself, barely forming a coherent thought.

Outside, two little Like Doves peered inside the small windows near the ceiling, daring you to start creating scenarios in your head.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of any speculations of your own. Creating scenarios was a job for the you before sleep, the one who had time to feel anxious and overthink your daily situations.

And if your phone beeping was any signal, right now you had other ghouls to assist.

[stop-talking]

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 3)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.8k words

Tags: 18+, mike x reader, no use of y/n, smut, porn with plot, gag, bondage, exes, enemies, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, brat behavior all around, switch mike, sub mike, munch mike, dom reader, oral (fem receiving), pet names, banter, angst, love-hate relationship, hate fucking, aftercare, fluff.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

This chapter is pure smut. If you're here for the story (cuz pfft who reads this stuff right...) you can skip this and still understand part 4. TLDR: they fuck.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

You sit next to Mike on the couch as you down the last bit of your coffee.

"You know, I think I'd like to use one of my favors." You smirk and put a hand on his leg as you set your mug down.

"O-oh yeah?" Mike stutters out lamely, attention immediately pulled away from whatever stupid show you turned on the T.V.

"Yeah."

Mike yelps softly as you squeeze his thigh, but doesn't make any moves to stop you. Damn it, you know exactly how to push his buttons. You always did.

"What exactly do you want from me?" He narrows his eyes at you, brow furrowing as he desperately pretends he doesn't like to be toyed with.

"What do you think I want, Mikey?"

Mike's eyes go wide as your hand inches up his thigh, but he swallows and returns the sass.

"Why don't you tell me yourself, Princess?"

You huff and shift on the couch, throwing yourself across his lap dramatically. Your back arches from the way you're laying on his legs, and you stare up at him with a pout.

"Just take me to bed already."

Mike does just that, hooking one arm under your back, and the other under your knees. He fucking princess carries you. That's new.

"Damn, you been working out?" You tease him, feeling up his bicep with one arm as you hook the other around his neck for support. He doesn't look especially muscular, hell, he doesn't feel muscular either. Of course, that could be because of the soft hoodie he's wearing.

"What do you think?" He swings you around to face the bench press in the corner of his bedroom as he nudges the door closed with his foot. You'd never seen him actually use the damn thing, but... well, he was carrying you fairly easily.

"I think you've missed me." You look up at him, eyes trailing down to his lips.

"I'm just doing you a favor, sweetheart." He tosses you on the bed before you can get that kiss you were thinking about.

"You mean you're just doing me."

"As a favor."

His stubbornness irks you, and you crawl over next to him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Here, let me help." You grab his leg and start taking off his sneaker. Mike's a little confused, but he lets it happen. You take the other one off as well, then wave a dismissive hand at him as you start untying his laces.

"You can take off the rest yourself."

"Fuck are you doing with my shoes?" He grumbles as he removes his hoodie and shirt.

You don't bother to answer him, and when he looks over again he realizes you're completely un-lacing his shoes.

"I need the laces."

"Do I even want to know why?" He scoffs and starts to undo his belt and shimmy out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers.

"Oh, you'll find out. Lie down and wait."

Mike stays put, scowling. However, It's a little hard to feign annoyance when he's, well, a little hard. He finally gives in when he realizes you're not gonna throw him any hints, and sighs as he scoots back on the bed.

"Good boy." You tease him, finally pulling the 2nd lace completely free of his shoe.

He groans, but makes no effort to stop you as you climb up on him in a straddling position. He only wishes you'd taken your shorts off first. Oh well. Not like they're covering much, anyways.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Not as much as you'd regret not doing this."

Mike can't argue with that. So, he doesn't try. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand finds its way to your lower back and he gives a little tug down, silently begging you to lower yourself onto him.

"Mmmph... nngh..." When the gentle tugging doesn't work, he tries whining, but everything comes out muffled with your tongue practically down his throat. He's not usually the type to just take what he wants, but damn it, he might try it soon if you keep tormenting him.

"What was that, Mikey?" You pull away from the kiss and sit up on him, finally making contact with the twitching hard-on in his boxers.

He's already breathless from the kiss, and now that he can feel you... he can't even talk. You've broken him already. He just pants and looks up at you with those big brown puppy eyes of his.

"Use your words." You scold him, and adjust yourself on top of him to brush up against him. When that doesn't get him to talk, you gently trail your nails down his chest with both hands. That really gets him going.

"Please." He hates begging. He hates this. Wasn't HE supposed to be doing YOU? And yet, here he is, already melting.

"Please what?"

"Please just do whatever-the-fuck you want." He sighs and goes limp, letting his arms drop to the bed as he tries to get his breathing under control. All that kissing made his brain go fuzzy.

"Thank you. I will."

Mike practically growls as you lean down and bite him in the crook of his neck. It quickly turns to a whimper when you start rocking your hips as well, grinding into him with those infuriatingly tiny shorts.

"Shh... Abby's asleep, remember?" Shit. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was his little sister in the room across the hall. You were right though, the walls here are thin. Mike nods and bites the inside of his cheek to quiet himself, then tugs desperately at your hips. He wants you to keep going. He needs you to keep going.

"Aww, you're so worked up already." You can't feel much through your shorts and his boxers, but you can tell his moves are getting desperate. After a minute or so of biting all down his neck and grinding on him, you decide to switch things up before he explodes.

"Fuuuuck." Mike lets out a low groan as you climb off of him. He tries to pull you back down by the hips, but you swat his hands off. No fair.

"Here, gimmie." You take his wrist and hold his arm up, fiddling with something. Before he can even process what's happening, his wrist is tied to the bedpost. Is that... his shoelace? He's not sure whether he should laugh or try and get out while he can.

"You're an evil woman." He groans, but doesn't even try to pretend he doesn't like this. Not with it literally jumping in his boxers.

"This evil woman misses your tongue, Mikey." You tsk at him quietly as you tie up his other wrist. Tight. Damn it, that's gonna hurt later.

"Fuck... sit on my face."

"What was that?" You look down at him with a smirk as you slip out of your shorts and panties, kicking them to the floor.

"Sit on my face." He repeats. "Please."

"Only because you asked so nicely."

Mike nearly dies right there when he feels your thighs wrap around the sides of his head. You aren't quite on his face, instead choosing to sit up on the top of his chest. It's still enough to drive him mad. Damn it, he shouldn't enjoy this so much.

"I... You're so..." He looks up at you, his usual scowl replaced with that dreamy expression you only ever got to see in times like this.

"So what, Mikey?" You prompt him, running your fingers through his dark brown curls with a hand. "Hm?"

"Sooooo mean." He closes his eyes and groans, leaning back into your hand as you play with his hair.

"I wanna be meaner. Suffocate you a little."

"Evil woman." His eyes twinkle as he looks up at you again, unable to hide how eager he is.

Laughing softly, you lift your hips and position yourself over his face. Much to your amusement, his arms tug at the restraints. Has he forgotten he's tied up?

"Hold still." You scold him, carefully lowering yourself. His stubble tickles a bit, but it's a familiar feeling. This isn't your first rodeo, especially not with him.

Mike already has his tongue out before you even touch his face. Honestly, he probably wants this more than you do at this point, even if you are the most infuriating person in his life. He moans when you finally make contact, surprised at just how wet you are. Damn it. You really do love toying with him.

"Shush. No moaning."

Mike whimpers a bit when you scold him, and starts bucking his hips into the air. God, he wishes his hands were free. He can't even bring himself to beg for it, too absorbed in you.

"Fuck, right there." You start to buck your hips slightly as well, grinding onto his face. His tongue is hitting just the right spot, and he fuckin' knows it. Bastard.

As soon as you give him that little sliver of praise, he loses it. Completely. He's a desperate, writhing mess beneath you, pulling against his restraints and thrusting up into the void while he eats you out like he's starved.

With one hand gently pulling his hair, and the other clinging to the headboard to steady yourself, you rock your hips. This earns you another low moan from Mike, and while the vibrations feel amazing against your clit, he needs to shut the fuck up.

"Quiet, or I'll fuckin' gag you." You hiss, yanking his hair a little harder for a moment to make a point. He returns to whimpering, for now.

God, you missed this. Mike Schmidt was a jackass, but he was a jackass that knew exactly how to make you squirm. In fact, you were squirming now. Fuck.

"I'm almost... mmm.... Mike..."

Fuck, now you're moaning his name?

Mike wants to grab your hips and pull you down into his face harder, but his hands are restrained.

He wants to grab himself and finally get off, but again, restraints.

He wants to moan, but you're threatening to gag him.

He wants to keep you in this bed with him forever, but he can tell you're close, and pretty unlikely to stick around afterwards. Even if you could be convinced, he's too stubborn to ask.

He wants to taste your cum. So he does.

"Fuuuuuck." You turn into a trembling mess on his face, your legs going weak as he licks and sucks in just the right way. He knows your body so well.

"Nngh, Mike, stop." You lift your hips, leaving him licking at the air for a moment.

"God, that was..."

Mike watches as you scoot back to sit on his chest again, and feels your thighs gently squeeze his face. When you run both hands through his hair as well, he's in heaven. He doesn't need you to say he did a good job to know he did well. He can tell by the way you caress him, and the slick dripping down his chin. He smiles at the glazed over look in your eyes, and he's sure.

"Did I earn the right to use my arms again, Princess?"

That little smug comment breaks you out of your trance. Bastard.

"Yeah, yeah. One minute." You sigh and stare down at his face. Poor boy is wrecked, your mess all over him.

Mike's eyes go wide as he watches you take off your little white tank top, your only remaining piece of clothing. He only gets a brief look at your tits before you swipe it across his face, cleaning him up.

"Hey, I was gonna eat that." He teases, staring up at your chest with hunger in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you still can." You chuckle and stuff the tank top in his stupid smug mouth, a makeshift gag for what's to come. or cum. hah.

Mike can't help but be annoyed with you. He's clearly going insane with how badly he needs to cum, he just worked so hard to finish YOU off, and his wrists hurt. And what do you do? Gag him. Wonderful.

As soon as you finish untying one of his wrists, Mike uses his newly freed hand to yank the gag out.

"What was that for?" He scowls, reaching to untie his other wrist himself as you crawl on top of him.

"You're loud when you cum. Put it back in and bite down or you're not getting any."

He rubs his wrists and looks at the woman straddling his legs so confidently. If you'd just scoot up a little, you'd be where he really wants you, right on his cock. But he figured that probably wasn't going to happen.

"You're infuriating." He willingly shoves the gag back in his mouth, attempting to scowl through a mouthful of cotton. All his anger melts away when you tug his boxers down and finally wrap your hand around his dick. He shudders. Fuck, he's not gonna last long.

"Just let it out, Mikey." You coax him, using a soothing voice and quick hand to finish him off. He bucks his hips up into you and whimpers through the gag, eyes rolling back into his head. Precum drips from him almost immediately, and you smile. He definitely had fun.

After hardly a minute of pumping, he explodes all over his stomach and chest. Fuck, some even gets on his neck. You laugh and make a show of licking your fingers clean, eyeing him up and down.

When Mike's eyes finally flutter open, he almost gets hard again. He tries to let the image of you straddling him, completely naked, and sucking his cum off your fingers soak into his brain. He wants it burned into his eyes, Christ. Why did he ever let someone so hot get away from him?

"That was fast."

Oh, right, because she's a total witch.

"You told me to let it all out."

"Mhm. And now look at you. A mess."

Mike props himself up on his elbows and snorts.

"Gonna lick me clean too, sweetheart?"

"Nope."

God, why did he even ask? He lies back down on the bed, sexually satisfied, but mentally and physically exhausted. He hardly registers you climbing out of bed until he hears his bathroom door close.

A few minutes later, you return and toss him a rag. It's warm and damp.

"Clean yourself up, you're a big boy." You taunt him while you slip back into your shorts and panties.

Mike sighs but accepts the rag and starts to wipe himself down.

You reach for your tank top, lying discarded at the edge of the bed. Then you remember you used it to wipe up... hm. Probably best not to wear it.

"I'm stealing a shirt." You announce, turning to rifle through his dresser. Is this the shirt drawer? No, this one?

"Keep the tank-top. Free souvenir."

"Stealing? Not borrowing?" Mike scoffs, sliding his boxers back up.

"Yep. Can I take this one?" You turn and hold up a faded grey shirt with a cheesy pun on it.

"No. I like that one."

"Oookay... what about this one?"

"No. Sentimental value."

"This?"

He's tempted to keep denying you, if only to see you shirtless for longer. Damn, if you hadn't tied up his wrists he would have been all over those...

"Mike? Can I have this one?" You repeat, annoyed.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." He grumbles, turning away in an attempt to hide his blush. It was stupid. He just ate you out, and he blushes at the sight of boobs?

You chuckle to yourself as you throw on his shirt. It smells like him. Or at least, smells like his detergent.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Hope you had as much fun as I did, Mikey." You lean against his bedroom door, preparing to leave.

"You don't wanna stay for a bit?" Damn it. He sounded pathetic, begging his ex to stay. This was just a favor to you, a quick release. He couldn't help but try, though.

"Hm. Don't you have to take Abby to school?"

Mike glances at the digital alarm next to his bed. Shit. They're definitely running late now.

"...Yeah. I'll, uh, see ya?"

"You promised to get a new babysitter this weekend."

He swallows, heart sinking into his stomach. Yeah, he did say that, didn't he?

"Right. Yeah."

An awkward silence lingers in the air for a few moments, so you clear your throat and speak up.

"You wanna walk me out?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After quickly shuffling into some shorts and a t-shirt, Mike walks you to the front door and unlocks it for you while you gather your things. His heart wrenches at the sight of you in his shirt, though he tries not to show it. That sort of thing would usually mean you're his. But you aren't. Not anymore.

"Tell Abby I said good luck in her witching endeavors."

"Will do."

He watches you leave, and the exhaustion finally crumples him. Fuck, Abby's just gonna have to miss the first few hours of school today. He needs a nap. Or a medically induced coma.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: This was my first time writing smut so uh hope y'all enjoy. This series is also my first attempt at fanfiction in general. I'm so excited to write the last chapter! Sorry to end on a sad note. I love angst. Sad little babygirl Mike. <3 <3

Also, is tying Mike up with shoelaces very realistic? Probably not. But it's hot. And I can't imagine he keeps bondage stuff.

Edit: Part 4

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 29

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Character List

TBH! At this point, this is a joint collab with @paigereeder 😭. GOAT!

Thursday, September 2nd 2021 

Airielle’s peaceful slumber was interrupted by her phone ringing. Groaning, she snatched her phone off the floor next to her and squinted at the screen to see who was calling her. ��Oh my god.” She muttered before accepting the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Why in the fuck didn’t you tell me Christopher popped the fuck back up. I knew I should’ve killed that motherfucker when I had the chance.” Her older brother Isaiah seethed over the phone and Airielle sighed closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Airielle!” He shouted into the phone when she didn’t respond. 

“Because I had it under control.” Airielle looked behind her as Josh started to shift in his sleep, sighing she threw the covers off of her and walked into the living room to finish her conversation. 

“Uh-huh, sure you do. He broke into your spot -” 

“And I moved, problem solved.” She shrugged, eyes glancing around the living room just taking in how much he had actually gotten rid of. “Shouldn’t you be working?” 

Isaiah snorted. “I took the day off.” 

“Hmm,” Airielle hummed. “And that’s why you’ll never be Dad’s favorite” 

“Eat my - “ Airielle hung up before her brother could finish his statement. Rolling her eyes she threw her phone on the island. She looked up when she heard Josh shuffling into the living room. 

“Everything Aight?” Josh mumbled as he walked closer to Airielle and kissed her cheek. 

“Yeah, my brother being a pain in my ass.” She replied, rolling her eyes when he chuckled. “What you got going on today?” 

“Nothing. I gotta do some laundry and gotta pack. Got Smackdown and the House show this weekend.” 

“You wanna go get some breakfast first?” She asked, tapping the screen on her phone to see what time it was. “I’m kinda craving waffles.” 

“You already know the answer to that.” Airielle rolled her eyes with a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. 

“Can you believe it’s about to be a year since we met?”  It's crazy to think about all the ups and downs they went through in a year! If she could go back and change anything it would definitely be breaking up with him after he asked her to move in with him. That would have saved them months of heartbreak. 

“You wanna hear somethin’ wild?” He waited until she lifted her head from his chest to continue. “That wasn’t the first time we actually met.” 

Airielle furrowed her eyebrows together and tilted her head a little. 

“Huh?” 

“We actually met back in 2019. Me and twin had a meeting with Hunter, down at the PC and I saw you there. I mean I was looking, respectfully, but I was still looking.” He laughed when Airielle rolled her eyes again.  “Hunter told us he was taking us off TV after Jon’s latest arrest but he still had - 

“Y’all cut a promo for us.” She whispered as the memory of their first meeting came rushing back. “I remember y’all looking so pissed but still came and cut like one the best promos I ever heard.” 

“Mmhmm.” Josh hummed while nodding his head. “I remember trying to come talk to you, but you weren’t even trying to give ya boy the time of day. I mean I understand why now but shit, back then I thought you were like this stuck up bi-” He stopped himself when she narrowed her eyes at him. He cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.” 

“I mean I was a bitch to you when I came to the main roster.”  Josh nodded his head in agreement and Airielle sucked her teeth, pulling away from him. 

“What? you said it, not me.”  Just as she went to smartass him, his stomach released the loudest grumble she had ever heard. They both stared at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. “You the one who brought up waffles, I mean you already know how I get down.” Airielle sucked her teeth and pushed him away from her before walking back towards his room so she could grab her clothes to shower. 

“I feel like they just need to go ahead and sponsor your greedy ass Uce.” She chuckled, her back to him as she shuffled through her bag looking for something to wear to breakfast. She stood up straight and gasped as she turned and bumped into Josh. 

“Whatchu’ just call me?”  Airielle bit her lip to stop herself from smiling at the look he was giving her. “Airielle, stop playing with me.” 

“You wanna go get waffles or not?”  Josh tilted his head as he stared at her. He was really contemplating on not going to the Waffle House with her because who the fuck did she think he was. Uce, had she lost her damn mind? He wasn’t her damn Uce. He went to tell her that they weren't going to breakfast but his stomach growled again making her smile. “That’s what I thought.” 

AirielleJones

liked by trinity_fatu, c_smith and 200,000 others

AirielleJones: Me and UCE out to eat! ❤️🤭

view all comments:

uceyjucey: you still playing huh?

↪ AirielleJones: @ uceyjucey; love you too UCE 😘

trinity_fatu: HAHA!!

“You gon glare at me throughout breakfast or what?”  Airielle asked him as the waitress walked away to put in their orders. “Why can’t I call you Uce?” She pouted. 

“Cause I don’t fuck my family Airielle.” 

“Boy –” 

“Oh my god. Look at you! You’ve gotten so big.” A new voice interrupted their conversation. Both Airielle and Josh both turned towards the new voice. Josh narrowed his eyes as he looked at the woman. She was older than both of them, with dark brown skin; for some reason, her facial features reminded him of Airielle. Josh turned to look at Airielle to ask if she knew who the hell this lady was but he stopped short once he saw the look on Airie’s face. He had only seen that look one time before. 

A couple weeks before she broke up with him she had this same look when he had tried to initiate sex but she wasn’t in the mood for it. That’s the same day he found out Christopher used to force her to have sex with him. He remembers her telling him that her old therapist called it dissociating. Josh immediately stood up and stepped in front of this lady, blocking Airielle, who was still sitting in the booth, from her view. 

“You good?” Josh asked the woman, straightening his shoulders so he was standing at full height. 

“Are you her bodyguard or something?” Another voice piped up from behind the older women and Josh definitely knew that they had to be related to Airielle in some sort of fashion because this girl and Airielle could pass off as twins. 

“Yup. Now answer my question, Y’all good?”  

“You must be Joshua.” The older woman said. Holding her hand out to him. “I’m Abigail and this is my daughter Janelle.” 

“Cool, y’all can leave now.” He said eyeing her hand with disgust. Whoever this woman was made Airielle uncomfortable and he wanted her away from them ASAP. Abigail’s hand hung in the air awkwardly for a moment before she withdrew it and cleared her throat, forcing a smile on her face. 

“Airielle please tell this man that I am your mother and I just want to talk to you.” Josh’s eyebrows shot up at the news. “Please solèy –” 

“Don’t call me that,” Airielle spoke up. “You have no right to call me that.” Airielle stood up from the booth and grabbed Josh’s hand. “I want to leave.” Josh nodded his head immediately. Breakfast forgotten, he ushered Airielle back to his car. 

“You okay?” Josh asked as he pulled out of The Waffle House parking lot. 

“No,” Airielle said. “Pull over.” As soon as the car came to a stop, Airielle threw open the passenger door and threw up nothing but stomach acid. “Fuck!” she cried out. 

Josh handed her a bottle of water and she thanked him, swishing it around in her mouth before spitting it out.  “That was–” 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t gotta talk about it.” 

“I know.” Airielle smiled and grabbed his hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb. “But I wanna be more open and honest with you.” Josh bit his lip and nodded. “That was my birth mom and her daughter I guess.” 

“Y’all not close. I take it.” 

“Nah,” Airielle shook her head. “She left when – well right after she gave birth to me. She never wanted me, never wanted a daughter, but I see a lot has changed in the past thirty years. I remember growing up, she would always send my brother’s gifts and cards on their birthdays but never mine. I didn’t really care because I didn’t remember her anyway. But um- one day I was just curious as to why she seemed to ignore my existence so I got her address off of one of the packages she sent my brothers and wrote her a letter.” 

Airielle quickly wiped away her tears. She hated crying over this woman. Josh squeezed Airielle’s hand gently. “She wrote me back. Which kinda shocked me but I was happy that she did. I was thinking she was just gonna tell me that she was just feelin' guilty about leaving me but, she said the complete opposite. She wrote me 4 pages, front and back, telling about how many times she unsuccessfully tried to abort me. How she tried to give me up for adoption without my father knowing. How she had a plan to tell my dad that I had died during childbirth.” 

Josh’s jaw was damn near on the floor as he listened to Airielle. No wonder she’s so emotionally challenged  He thought. 

“She blamed me for the fact that she couldn’t see her boys grow up, she blamed me because my dad chose to raise me instead of be with her. The final thing she wrote to me was, I wish you would have died. Do not contact me again. So I didn’t, I ripped the letter up and burned it. Never told my dad or my brothers about it and obviously neither did she.” 

“What the fuck.” Josh whispered, his hand tightened into a fist on his thigh. Abigail or whatever her name is better than her lucky stars that Josh didn’t put his hands on women. 

“Yeah I mean, I just wanted my mom, but she didn’t want me..” Airielle shrugged as she tried to stop the tears but it was too much. She had pushed Abigail and her hurtful words into the back of her mind in the folder with Chris and her unborn baby. Seeing her today just opened up a wound that Airielle thought had semi-healed. 

Josh pushed his seat back and pulled her over the center console so she could sit in his lap. He held her tightly as she cried into his shoulder. Josh gently stroked her back, his voice low and soothing. “It’s alright. I’m right here, okay? We gon’ get through this.”

As her crying eased, Josh kept her close, feeling her heart slow against his. He didn’t let go, knowing she needed this more than anything. He wasn’t just comforting her; he was vowing to stand up for her in every way he could.

Whew.. Miss Abigail is a trip!

What do y'all think about this chapter??

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

Abigail Noelle Roy

Janelle Noelle Roy

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @empressdede

@harmshake @paigereeder @li-da-savage @nbanenefrmdao @alyyaanna

@theninthwonder @raya-hunter01 @abadbitchblogs @jaethaone @black-yn

@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @zillasvilla @thatone-girly

@xmonetsworld @bebesobrielo @kill-the-artiste @yana3sworld @bookuce

@sageispunk @amandairene88 @rianasixx @vebner37 @mindairy

@trashbin-nie @saintaquarius @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @sayyestoheav3nn

@xbriexx @edtomh @princess-saki1 @kat3457 @queeny23

@privateeyed95 @rebelrel0987

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 4

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: mention of food/eating, one swear word, some angst

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: closed

W♡RD C♡UNT: 4,981

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 15

A/N: sorry for disappearing without a word

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

“So, how does all this work?” You ask from the couch behind the set of chairs Chan and Changbin are currently sitting in, a third one is empty between the two of them.

“Like producing or all of the buttons?” Chan asks, spinning around in the chair to give you all of his attention.

“You can explain the buttons if you want,” You adjust yourself comfortably on the couch, making sure to find a way to sit so you can take notes without hurting your back later. “But I meant producing.”

The three of you are currently sitting in a recording studio that the company rented for the group to use on their last day in Sydney. One of the inclusions that everyone agreed on is a mini CD-R of each member's solo song from the tour, and one rerecorded song for the group version broken up into a special racha version. The boys wanted to get the recording as quickly as they could before they got too tired from touring, which is why you're up at the earliest time you've needed to be so far.

Chan starts to roll up the sleeve of his black hoodie, thinking for a moment. "Well, when Han gets here--"

"If Han gets here. I guarantee you that he's still asleep right now." Changbin whines, his voice still heavy from sleep.

"I'll send a text to the group chat in a second to have one of the other kids swing by his room before they come over." Chan rubs his eyes as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sets it on the table behind him. "We can do the first two songs without him right now I guess."

"They're just the solo songs so we can manage." Changbin yawns. You can't tell if he's telling you or reassuring Chan.

"Yeah, you're right. Anyway," He pulls off his cham and fixes his hair before placing it back on. "Someone will be in the recording booth with headphones that play the backing track while everyone else can hear from the speakers in here. Basically, everyone out here is listening to make sure that the recording goes well. That whoever is in the booth is keeping pitch, or pronouncing everything correctly, and so forth. Or if something doesn't sound right, we can fix it right then and there. It's not always in one go though so sometimes we have to take the best bits of each take and splice them together."

"And then you take the mostly recorded track and do whatever tweaking needs to be done in post?" You question as you write down what Chan explained.

"Exactly! Someone's been doing their homework." Chan claps once loudly in excitement, the sudden noise causes Changbin to jump in his seat.

"I've always been a good student." You smirk to yourself as you look through your questions to ask. "I've watched some of your recording sessions on YouTube. You--"

The door swings open, stealing all of your attention. On the other side, Jisung stands holding four coffees in a carrier in one hand and another, larger iced coffee in the other. He's mostly hidden away in a large beanie that falls just above his eyes, a matching black face mask, an oversized hoodie, and baggy grey cargo pants.

"I know I'm late, but I bought an apology gift." He says, holding up the drink carrier.

"More like a bribe." Chan laughs, turning the seat next to around so that Jisung can sit in it.

"Here you go, noona." Jisung hands you one of the iced coffees before taking his seat between Chan and Changbin.

"I can be bought." You joke as you take the drink.

You watch as Jisung settles into his seat, handing both Chan and Changbin their drinks before placing the remaining fifth cup on the table behind them. Chan takes a sip of the coffee and turns back to you. "Noona, you were asking us a question."

"I'll ask it later. You guys have a lot of work ahead of you. I'll be like a fly on the wall from this moment forward."

All three of them nod in agreement. Recoding nine songs in one day isn't impossible but it is a lot of work. The three of them turn around again and discuss something briefly that you can't hear. Unsure of what else to do, you recheck your notes as they talk, trying your best to give them privacy in the too-small room.

"Ah, I'm suddenly nervous to record this song!" Chan laughs nervously while throwing his head back.

"We've all seen you perform it seven times already." Jisung pats him on the back to reassure him.

"Yeah but..." His voice trails off as he slowly makes eye contact with you as he spins around.

"You're nervous because of me?" You point to yourself for confirmation.

"Well, the song is a bit..." His voice trails off again, scratching the back of his increasingly red neck.

"Oh, so you can take your shirt off in front of Stay but you can't sing the song in front of noona?" Changbin teases.

"At this point, noona is like my sister. So it's..."

"I'm pretty sure your actual sister was in the audience this weekend. Your entire family really." You remind him.

"Oh my God," He sighs, burying his head in his hands.

"Ah, Bang Chan! Just hurry up and go in the booth already!" Changbin yells, getting annoyed and dropping all formalities with his leader.

"Okay, okay!" He gets up and takes one more sip of his coffee. "It's a song about trains anyway so I don't know what I'm getting worked up about."

"Hyung, be so fucking for real right now. We're all adults here. Just--"

Smack!

"Ow! What was that for." Jisung rubs the spot on his thigh that Changbin just smacked.

Changbin doesn't say anything. Instead, he nods in your direction, warning the younger man that you're still listening. You roll your eyes and raise your hand up. "It's off the record, don't worry."

After some punches to the air, Chan finally makes his way into the recording booth. He places the large headphones over his ears and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. He unfolds the paper and then places it on the music stand in front of him. He signals for you to turn around and cover your ears with a sheepish smile. You respond by shaking your head 'no' and snapping a quick picture of him with your camera.

Jisung gets up from his seat and takes the seat that Chan was sitting in earlier. He pats his previous seat with his hand while looking through the papers in front of him. "Noona, sit here. Come be an honorary member of 3racha."

"I promise you that your careers are safer if I sit back here." You chuckle slightly.

"Then come up here and keep us company. It feels weird sitting here with just two of us. Feels like if Cerberus was missing a head."

"That's a bit dramatic, no?" You question as you gather your things.

"It's 3racha. You need all three of us. Cerberus is just a two-headed dog without the third head. Or worse, a regular dog. 2racha isn't a real thing." Jisung says with a faraway look in his eyes. You can almost see a glint of fondness as he thinks back about something.

"Can I quote you on that?" You ask as you set your things on the table.

"Technically Vocalracha is 2racha," Changbin interjects. Without looking up from the papers he's now flipping through, he pulls out Jisung's chair for you to sit on. Without hesitation, you quietly thank him while taking the seat.

"That's not the same thing and you know it hyung." Jisung whines, stomping his feet on the floor, gently shaking the table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

All three of your heads snap up at Chan who is now mouthing something at you.

"Oh, his mic is off," Changbin says while he looks at the set of buttons spread out across the table.

"Hold on, this system is different from the one we're used to. Everything is in English too."

"They showed us how to use the equipment earlier but I forgot which one is the mic on and off button," Changbin explains.

Your eyes scan the table and find the button labeled 'microphone on/off'. Afraid of accidentally hitting something and messing with the entire system, you quietly point to it. Changbin follows your finger and presses the button without any hesitation. You hold your breath for a moment, scared that you might have found the wrong button. All three of you stare at Chan while Jisung signals for him to talk.

"Is my mic on now?" Chan asks softly.

All three of you let out a sigh of relief before Jisung presses the intercom button in front of him and leans into the mic. "Yeah, hyung. We can hear you now, loud and clear."

"Okay, good. Are we good to start now? I want to get my song over with before the other kids get here." Chan teeters back and forth on his feet and swings his arms back and forth like a child waiting for their parent to get done talking to their friend. It's an insane image of a man who is about to sing a song that is definitely not about railways.

Jisung turns to look at Changbin who is looking at a little piece of paper in front of him. You can see small diagrams of buttons and little notes on them in Korean that you're almost certain he wrote himself. He gives Jisung a thumbs-up as his finger hovers over one of the buttons.

"Yeah, we're going to start now, hyung," Jisung tells him before sliding the intercom away from him.

Chan resumes his position in front of the microphone. He flashes all three of you an innocent smile before signaling that he's ready to start. Both you and Jisung watch Changbin as he presses one of the buttons. Soon after, the opening notes of "Railway" play over the speaker in the room. Chan makes a motion pointing up which causes Changbin to scramble as he looks for another button while referring to his little cheat sheet. Changbin presses the button and Chan gives him another thumbs-up before singing the opening lines of the song.

You sit quietly between the two younger members of 3racha as they work, careful to not distract them. You've been with them for two months, but this is the most serious you've seen them. Most of the time, they're goofing off and picking on each other or the other members. Changbin quietly nods along to the music while reading the lyrics sitting in front of him. Every few seconds he writes a little note on the page. Jisung is also reading along with the lyrics. After Chan finishes the first verse, he waits patiently while drinking water as Jisung and Changbin quietly discuss among themselves what parts they should have him fix. After a few minutes, they go over what went well and what he can do to improve. Chan nods along before the three of them rerecord the first verse. After the second recording, they replay both versions of the recording for Chan to hear. This time Chan seems a bit dissatisfied and asks if he can try one more time. Once more, the opening notes play and Chan redoes the first verse. During the review of the third take, all three of them are satisfied and go to the next verse.

This process continues for each verse, chorus, and adlib until all three of them, but most importantly Chan, are happy with the final product. Afterwards, Chan switches places with Jisung and it starts all over again. Jisung's recording goes a bit faster than Chan's due to fewer notes from the other two producers in the room. While Jisung records, both Chan and Changbin are quietly explaining everything to you so you have a bit more context of what's going on. After Jisung is done, he takes Chan's seat again while Chan moves over to Changbin's seat so they can record the next song. Changbin's recording took the longest of the three because of how much he was joking around. After that, they managed to get started on the 3racha hip-hop version of "Runners," all while spending more time messing around than focusing. Still, the three of them are done in nearly two hours.

For a moment, you're left alone in the recording studio while the three men take their break outside of the room. You sit quietly on the couch, your new permanent spot now that all three producers are done recording, and add to your notes about the experience. You don't notice at first that Changbin is the first one back in the room. He's quiet for a moment as he reclaims his spot at the end of the table.

"It's not as fun and glamorous as our recording session videos, huh?" Changbin asks quietly, finally breaking his silence.

You slowly lift your head up and blink at him, confused for a moment. You don't think there's been a moment where he's spoken to you first before. At least, not unprompted. Not without another member being in the room.

Changbin continues to stare at you, waiting for your answer. You shake your head and put your notebook aside, "No, I think it's very interesting. I'm learning a lot about making music and you three in general. I really love music so seeing how it's made is really fun."

Changbin slowly nods his head as he spins back around. You roll your eyes as you pick up your notebook again. A few seconds later, Changbin turns around again. You freeze midsentence, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you want to experience the other side of it?" His expression is soft and genuine. You've only seen this expression on his face when he's with his members, never with you. Then again, you haven't been alone with him yet. Maybe the overprotective, intimidating part of him is an act.

"What?" You set your notebook aside once again, "Like, inside the recording booth?"

"Yeah," While his face is softer towards you than you're used to seeing, he still refuses to smile. "For your article. You're still writing that, right? In addition to everything else?"

"I am still writing the article. And I'd love to step inside the booth." Notebook in hand, you follow as Changbin stands up and leads you to the door you've watched all three of them go through.

You wait patiently as you watch Changbin adjust the height of the mic for you. After a few moments, he quietly leaves the room and takes his spot back in front of the soundboard. He motions for you to put the headphones on.

The recording booth is smaller on the inside than you imagined. Much more stuffy, hotter than the room you were just in. It must have something to do with all the soundproofing that needs to be done. You roll up the sleeves of your sweater while you look around the room, taking in every little detail.

"Noona, can you hear me?" Changbin's voice rings through the headphones.

"Yeah," You turn, giving your full attention to the man on the other end of the glass. You always thought that there was a speaker overhead that was connected to the intercom in the other room.

"Good," He nods as he takes a sip of his now watered-down coffee. "I'm going to play something so you can hear what it's like."

You give him a thumbs up as you watch him search through Chan's laptop. After a moment, finding what he's looking for, he turns to look back up at you. "So you're going to hear a quick-timing beat and then the music is going to start."

You wait while watching Changbin as three ticks of what sounds like a metronome play in your ear right before the instrumental track for "Runners" starts. Your head bobs along to the music as you mentally sing the lyrics of the song you've heard countless times. The music is so loud, you're almost certain your heartbeat changed to match the tempo.

Just as soon as the song starts, it ends right when the first verse should end. You quickly grab your notebook and jot down a few notes before looking back at Changbin again.

"Is it always like this? Like," You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. "is it always just the backing track? I've heard that some artist hear their own voice too."

"You can hear your own voice if you want it that way but it can get a bit confusing so we don't. Some artists will have their guide playing if they have one or a metronome to keep the tempo. If we're layering or doing adlibs then we'll have what we've already recorded playing instead to make it easier for us and the person mixing the track."

"I see," A million more questions float into your mind as you take note of what Changbin just told you. But you decide to keep them to yourself for now. You still have a few more hours before the day is over.

"Do you want to record for real?" Changbin asks suddenly.

You pause for a moment, contemplating his question. It would be a bucket list item you would be able to scratch off the list. But the idea of performing a--song let alone performing a song in front of the original artist--is intimidating. "I can't sing,"

"We have autotune," He says as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk that he can't hide.

You bite your lower lip as you think about the next time an opportunity like this will happen again. With your career, it probably won't happen again in this lifetime.

"Okay, but no laughing."

"Well, not in front of you."

"I changed my mind." You go to pull the headphones off and go back into the main room.

"I'm kidding, I'll be nice. I promise." He says quickly, his infectious laughter ringing through your ears. "What song do you want to do?"

"'Runners' is fine." You breathe as you readjust the headphones on your head.

Changbin does something on the laptop for a moment, probably turning on the autotune for you, and then makes an 'okay' symbol letting you know he's ready to go.

You say a silent prayer that you don't completely embarrass yourself in front of Changbin or any of the other members who are bound to walk back into the studio at any moment as the metronome chimes in your ears again. As the song starts, your voice is a bit shakier than you hoped. It's one thing to pretend to be an idol recording a song in the shower. It's an entirely different beast standing in a real recording booth while singing in front of an actual idol.

The song goes on longer than it did when Changbin was showing you how it sounded earlier. He's probably letting you go for as long as you can before cutting you off. Unfortunately for him, and his ears, you know the entire song.

Claps erupt in your ears just as the song finishes. You turn to the side to see that Chan and Jisung have returned from their break and that both Seungmin and Jeongin have also arrived. You quickly rip off your headphones, grab your notebook, and leave the booth with your eyes on the floor so that none of the boys can see how red your face is. You're not sure when any of them came in, and for your sake, it might be better that you didn't know.

"Wow, noona, do you want to join us in Vocalracha?" Jeongin jokes as you take your spot back on the couch.

"I think Vocalracha has enough members, thank you very much."

"Just switch places with Seungmin, nobody will notice the difference," Jisung suggests as he takes his seat next to Changbin.

"I'll notice," Seungmin deadpans as he takes the spot next to you on the couch.

"Does that mean I'll be Vocalracha leader then?" Jeongin's eyes light up with a mischievous twinkle.

"I think for noona's sake, you shouldn't be the leader. You'll run it like the military." Chan laughs, ruffling Jeongin's hair. In return, Jeongin pushes him hard enough to cause him to stumble.

Jeonging climbs over both your and Seungmin’s legs to get to the empty seat near the couch in the corner. "And Seungmin hyung doesn't?"

"I'm nice to you, why are you lying? Spend a day in danceracha with Lee Know hyung and you'll be crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness." Seungmin pouts.

Jeongin him off while pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I bow for no one,"

"You bow for Stay." Chan reminded the youngest man.

"That's different. I respect Stay." He replies without missing a beat.

"You don't respect me?" Seungmin asks, his mouth drops open, feigning shock.

Jeongin turns to Seungmin and points at himself. "Maknae on top,"

"Guys," Changbin warns. Both Seungmin and Jeongin turn to the older man, confused by the sudden warning. Changbin only replies by nodding in your direction.

And just like that, he's back to putting a wall between you and the entire group.

"Noona knows that we're only joking," Seungmin says softly, turning back to you with soft eyes. Almost like he's apologizing on Changbin's behalf. "Don't you, Y/n noona?"

"I vaguely remember one or more of you saying something about how Jeongin would be scary if he was one of the hyungs so..." You tease as you pretend to flip through your notebook. You slightly glance up and make eye contact with a worried Changbin. "I'm only joking, I know Jeongin has a soft spot for each of you and to take what you guys say with a grain of salt. Like when Seungmin says he hates you, he doesn't really--"

Seungmin throws his hand in front of your mouth, not close enough to touch you, but enough to get you to stop talking. "Hey, hey, hey, no need to expose me like that, noona."

"Okay, okay, well leave the two maknaes alone." Chan laughs, as he takes his seat next to Jisung. "Which one of you wants to go first? Or did you want to start by doing Vocalracha's 'Runners,' drama version?"

"I'll go first. Someone spent the whole car ride worried about doing his sexy concept in front of noona." Seungmin sighs as he gets up and walks straight into the booth.

"Hey," Jeongin cries, looking up from his phone.

"I'd like to remind everyone that I've already seen all of your stages. Multiple times. I've already seen the belly buttons and abs and heard all of the lyrics enough times in the past two months for you to not be worried." You reassure him.

"Couldn't be me," Chan clears his throat as he turns back around. You can see how quickly his neck and ears are getting red just before he pulls his hood over his head.

"You are the biggest offender, don't lie." Jisung laughs while hitting Chan on the shoulder.

"Seungmin, are you ready?" Chan changes the subject as Seungmin pulls his headphones on. Seungmin responds by making a silly face and doing a thumbs-up.

***

The rest of the day pretty much goes how it did earlier. Seungmin got done with his recording almost as quickly, if not faster than Jisung did earlier. Jeongin took a bit longer because he nitpicked each of his takes to make sure they were perfect. By the time they were done with their solos and recording "Runners," drama version it was time for lunch and the remaining three members of the group came with food for everyone. After lunch, Danceracha got started with their version of "Runners" before doing their solo recordings.

You tried to focus as well as you could but with the room full, there was always something happening on the side that always caught your attention. The other members only got scolded by Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, who were in full producer mode, a handful of times for their volume or overall playful antics. And while the day didn't feel like it lasted that long, when you checked your phone, it was basically dinner time.

"Alright, Lee Know-ssi, you're all done." Chan yawns into the microphone. You are almost certain he didn't get much sleep last night after the two of you spent the entire day exploring Sydney for his solo zine.

"Thank god!" The second oldest yells as he quickly pulls off his headphones and joins all eight of you in the main room.

With nowhere left to sit, Minho sits on Changbin's feet. Nobody else is phased by it, and after spending time with the group, it doesn't puzzle you as much as it once did.

"Hyung, get off," Changbin whines.

Minho tilts his head back and looks at Changbin innocently. "Why?"

"Never mind," Changbin mumbles as he gently pushes Minho's head back forward.

You do your best to hide the smirk threatening you appear on your face as you pack up your equipment. You didn't use much today, just your camera and your notebook. But still, you make sure to disconnect the lens from the camera and over both of them with the appropriate caps and then slide them into your bag. You close your notebook with a satisfying tap and put the pen into the wire spiral before putting it into your bag. Satisfied that you packed everything, you stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"If none of you have any plans, we can all head out to dinner for our last night in Australia?" You ask softly.

You want to treat the boys after a long day of work that you know they wouldn't have had if it wasn't for you. It's the least you can do. That is if you can find a way to pay without them knowing or trying to beat you to it.

"A little bit later? There's something the kids and I have to talk about first. If you don't mind waiting, it'll take about an hour. You can go ahead and wait at the hotel if you want." Chan says while stretching his arms in front of him.

You nod with a smile. "That's fine. We can also go another day too. No rush. Have during your meeting. Or text me if you still want to go."

Trying not to trip, you slightly knock into Felix's leg as you leave. You give them one final wave goodbye just as you leave.

You walk to the entrance of the studio, passing by a few random people entering the building. Deciding to stay cool, you wait in the lobby and dig around your bag, looking for your phone so you can call a car service to bring you back to the hotel.

Panic slowly sets in when you don't feel your phone in your bag. You check your pockets quickly before emptying your bag on the couch in the lobby. Pens, gum, your headphones, camera, notebook, wallet, and a bit of trash fall out. But not your phone. You think for a moment, you could have sworn that you put your phone in your bag. You checked the time, set it on the arm of the couch, and then...

It's still in the studio. You shove everything back in your bag. No longer panicking, you move slowly. You could wait around for the group to be done with their meeting and grab your phone so you don't disrupt them. But waiting for an hour, with nothing more to do feels a bit daunting. You could try to head back to the hotel and see if you could ask one of the staff members to message one of the members to grab your phone but the key to your room is in the back of your phone case. And with the security precautions in place for the group, you're almost certain you're not going to be able to get a spare key from the front desk.

"Here," Someone mutters furiously under their breath.

You turn around quickly, only to be met face to face with Changbin, his other hand clenched tightly in a fist. Even with his jaw clenched, you can see spasms of irritation across his face.

"T-thank you," You stutter as you take your phone from him.

Without saying a word, he turns back around and starts walking back to the studio. Halfway he stops, turns back around, and walks back towards you quickly.

"If you're going to bug us, you should learn to hide your phone better." He growls in a low voice.

"Excuse me?" You scoff in disbelief at the accusation.

You thought that you had Changbin figured out. That he's lovely in general but he's protective of the group. But now, as he stares at you with his nostrils flared and pure anger in his eyes, you fear that everything about him is an act.

Before you can explain yourself or even try to diffuse the tension between the two of you, Changbin disappears back into the hallway again.

You tightly grip your phone as you hold back your screams of frustration. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, ignoring the needle pricks of anger stabbing the back of your eyes. Once you've calmed down enough, you pull up the car service app on your phone and order a ride back to the hotel.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

TAG LIST (closed)

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @lixie-phoria @yongbbokkie @spearb-99 

@weird-bookworm @stayconnecteed @brain-empty-only-draken @hanniemylovelyquokka @sunshinessky 

@marked-unknown @lanatheawesome @theblindhag @skz-f0rlif3 @f9clementine 

@kalopsian-thoughts @ismelllikechlorine247 @hyunjineret @kangaracharacha @slut4colinbridgerton 

@reverse-soe @cupidsmoons @jungwonderz @szkstay @tenmii 

@stay278 @phtogravi @hannahs-docx @jihanlovic @alnex05 

@beccaskz @starlostastronaut @itsseohannbin @kayleefriedchicken @anushasstuff

@jutdwae-archives @dazzlingjade @itzella @divineinsanity

[i-actually-post-stuff]

2nd entry in @mcspirkevents Mcspirk month. Here's my piece for SFW; 3-7; Going to a planet where they have to wear silly outfits.

AO3 collection and context below:

Remember that TNG planet where they kill you if you step on the grass?

The boys are having a lovely time getting sun on shore leave. And later in their visit Bones is surely not going to accidentally break some arbitrary rule and get sentenced to death.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1- The Age of Chivalry

Summary: You're reassigned to Easy Company when one of their medics was injured pre D-Day. You expect some sass from the Company since you'll be the only female soldier in 100 miles but never expected for any of them to befriend you.

Author Note: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFemMedic, WW2, Character introduction, Pre D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/N, L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Story takes place Episode 1- Currahee

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

October 1943

It was never a good idea to mix a single female with a Company of deprived men in the Army...but here you are. You found out you were assigned to Easy Company 2nd Battalion 101st Airborne Division in Fall 1943 when they lost one of their medics to an injury. Although you trained separately from the males at Toccoa in the Divisional medical unit and were one of very few females allowed to work alongside men, you got along quite well with most of the guys. You held your own never asking for special treatment or never played the ‘damsel in distress’ card, so Easy Company learned rather quickly that you can keep up.  

~~~~~~~

You remember the day you arrived at Aldbourne, England to make contact with the boys of Easy Company. With your reassignment order in hand, you approach a group of soldiers sitting at a picnic bench outside a building. All of them looking a bit rough, but nonetheless smoking and joking with eachother. They take a pause as they notice you approaching them. Some of them sizing you up and down as you carry your duffel full of medical supplies and wearing fatigues that have yet to see the battlefields like theirs have.  

“Hey, you lost there, lady?” Private Roy Cobb called out to you, sizing you up again as you continued to walk towards them without faltering. 

You shoot the mouthy Private a look of disdain before responding. 

“I’m looking for Corporal Roe. I was told to make contact with him as soon I arrived.” You speak to the group as a whole. 

They all exchanged looks and a few whispers. 

Corporal George Luz stood up. 

“Why, I’m Eugene Roe. But around here they call me, ‘Doc.’” He declared confidently with a cocky grin. 

The others started to snicker. One laid a heavy pat on his shoulder showing his appreciation of the joke. 

You rolled your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. 

Sergeant Denver Randleman stood from the bench, then walked towards you pushing Luz aside shaking his head as he passed him. He was a larger man. Like a bear. Never removing the cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he spoke to you.  

“He’s across the way this way, I’ll take ya to him.” He said, motioning you along in the opposite direction. 

“Thank you, Sergeant.” You reply. 

“No problem. And it’s just ‘Bull,’ ma’am.” He said politely in his thick Southern accent as he passed you leading the way.  

You turn on your heel and proceed to follow Bull, ignoring the distant whistles you heard from some of the men you just met behind you. 

~~~~~~~

“I hope the guys haven’t given you too much trouble so far?” stated the actual Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe when you crossed into the designated aid station. 

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, Doc.” You say with conviction.  

Bull chuckled, finding your response amusing. 

“Yeah, I bet.” Doc replied before continuing. 

“Well, let’s get you in processed here, and squared away. Thanks for bringing her here, Bull. I’m sure those other idiots would’ve just sent her to their barracks.” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

Bull nodded with a small wave.  

“See you at chow, L/N.” Bull called back to you before he left. 

When Bull returned to where the others were still gathered, they bombarded him with questions. 

“Did you catch her name??” Sergeant (Sgt) Don Malarkey prodded. 

“-is she coming to Easy Company??” Sgt Bill Guarnere interrupted before Bull could answer. 

“-did she say anything about me?” Luz questioned. 

As the interrogation got heavier, he threw his hands up and removed the cigar from his mouth. 

“GUYS!! Take it easy, will ya? You’ll see her later at chow, just don’t attack her with all of these questions right away, k? We don’t want to scare her off now, do we?” He explained as he replaced his cigar and walked away.  

They all swapped looks of excitement.  

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to have me a shower before dinner this evening.” Corporal Joe Liebgott stated while flicking his cigarette butt, rising from the picnic bench, shouldering his rifle. 

“Ok, Liebgott, like you have a shot.” Malarkey teased. 

Liebgott turned to him. 

“Oh contrare, I feel you underestimate me, Don.” He shot back at Malarkey while walking backwards, then turning back around. 

The group scoffed at him collectively. 

~~~~~~~

You got to chow early before any of the other men started to show up. You tucked yourself way in the back at a long table in the corner. You made sure to keep your head down, hanging over a tray trying to swallow some of the Army’s finest slop.  

“Should’ve just stuck to a dinner roll with margarine.” You whispered to yourself as you grimaced from the last mouthful of mystery meat from your plate. 

“Not exactly a high-end dish from The Ritz, now, is it?” Sgt Carwood Lipton joked as he sat down across from you with his own serving of slop. 

“Yeah, not quite.” You respond while poking at a hard, clay-like mound on your plate that was supposed to be mashed potatoes. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Bull stated as he sat next to you with his tray. 

You ‘psh-ed’ at Bull’s statement. 

“I highly doubt that. But I’ll make do.” You convinced yourself. “Surprisingly not the worst food I’ve had.” You added. 

“Really, there’s something out there worse than this?” Lipton asked astonished as he stirred his cold soup that looked like ketchup and water. 

“Oh yeah! Pixley and Ehler’s Diner on Clark Street in Chicago has some questionable selections.” You explained. 

“Is that where you’re from?” Corporal Frank Perconte queried as he sat next to Lipton. 

“I am.” You replied with pride. 

“You Italian then?” Guarnere asked, inviting himself to the conversation, sitting next to Perconte. 

“Italian and Irish.” You clarified. 

“Ssshh, a goddam Mick-Deigo.” Guarnere sneered crinkling his nose in disgust. 

“Leave’er alone, Gonorrhea.” Liebgott interjected sitting next to Bull. 

“I’m guessing you're Italian?” You directed at Guarnere. 

“Sicilian, actually.” He retorted. 

“Hm, you know that Sicilians aren’t real Italians, right? Sicily is just like Australia. All the criminals of Britain were shipped there to be ostracized from the mainland. Sicily is just an island of Italy’s delinquents.” You taunted. 

The others “ooooo-ed” in unison. Even Perconte who was the other Italian of Easy company. 

“She got you there, Guarnere.” Bull teased. 

Everyone laughed. Except Guarnere. 

“You think you’re funny?” Guarnere challenged. 

You sighed and looked at him deadpan in the face without an ounce of fear to show. 

“Come on, Guarnere, she was only dishing out what you gave her.” Perconte defended. 

“Shut your trap, Perconte, you should be on my side!” he said slamming a fist onto the surface of the table then pointing at him.  

The rest of the table filled up with remaining members of Easy Company that could fit that wanted to see the fight unfold. 

You folded your arms in front of you on top of the table and leaned forward, making sure you got Guarnere’s attention, then spoke with distinct fire in your voice. 

“You think I’m some dame just showing up here straight out of basic training not knowing how to handle myself with soldiers? I’ve been whistled at, barked at, howled at, catcalled, pinched, ass slapped, and manhandled by the worst of them, pal. You labeling me because of my heritage ain’t gonna do shit to me. But I’ll be damned you disrespect me like I haven’t earned the right to be respected. Just remember, I’m the one that’s going to be tending to you if you get shot in the field, sergeant.”  

You glare at him, then rise harshly from your seat, leaving the rest of the table in a state of awe and shock. 

“Good job, Gonorrhea. You pissed her off now.” Liebgott pointed out with an audible tsk. 

“Fuck her.” Guarnere spit back. 

~~~~~~~

As soon as you left the chow hall, you found a spot out of sight to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. You leaned against a post looking up towards the night sky taking deep controlled breaths. 

“Corporal L/N?” You’re startled by the voice of Lieutenant (LT) Richard Winters. You snap to attention ready to render a salute, but he waves you down. 

“As you were. Are you alright?” He asked as you relaxed your stance. 

“Yessir, just getting some fresh air.” You reassured. 

He looked at you with skepticism, not believing you were telling him the entire truth.  

You continued. 

“A room full of men who haven’t showered in a few days can make a gal lightheaded.” You joked. 

The corner of LT Winters’ mouth started to curl into a slight grin, trying his best not to laugh outloud at your quick wit. 

“I see, L/N. Well rest up, we’ll need you to be ready when we move out for the next mission.” He explained. 

“Yes, sir. Have a good night.” You replied. 

Winters gave a nod and entered the chow hall. 

LT Winters bee lined for his company’s table. His men all greeted him cheerfully as he approached the table. 

“Lieutenant, got a seat open right here.” Bull called out, gesturing to your vacant spot. 

“No thanks, Bull, I’ve eaten already.” Winters responded. He paused before he continued. 

“Just ran into Corporal L/N on the way in-” He paused again to assess the men’s reaction. 

Some continued eating, pretending like they hadn’t really heard. Lipton, Bull and Liebgott looked up at Winters waiting for him to continue. 

“She seemed somewhat troubled.” Winters finished. He waited for anyone to speak up, looking at the group expectantly. 

“Maybe her panties got all up in a twist, sir.” Guarnere offered up sarcastically. 

Some of the men chortled in response. 

Winters, Bull, Lipton, and Liebgott weren’t amused. 

“Well, she only said a room full of foul-smelling males made her dizzy and she needed fresh air.” Winters relayed, while looking at Guarnere suspiciously. 

The men all started to smell their armpits self-consciously. 

“Corporal Liebgott.” Winters called out. 

“Sir?”

“Get out there and escort L/N to her tent.” Winters instructed. 

“Yes, sir.” Liebgott acknowledged. 

“L/N will not walk around alone at night, gentlemen. I don’t care who goes with her, but make sure she always has a battle buddy in the hours of darkness. Tracking?” Winters asked, raising his voice authoritatively. 

The table responded “yes, sir” simultaneously. 

Liebgott rushed out excitedly and hustled down the street to catch you before you got too far. 

~~~~~~~

You were aways a bit ahead before Liebgott found you. 

“Hey, L/N! Wait up!” He called after you. 

You turned around looking for the voice calling your name. 

You stopped walking, waiting for Liebgott trotting over to catch up to you. 

“Can I help you?” You asked with a little more harshness in your voice than you intended. 

“As a matter of fact, I’m here to help you. I have the honor of accompanying you to your barracks.” He responded with enthusiasm and a smile. 

You were taken aback. You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh?” You questioned before continuing. “That’s quite unexpectedly chivalrous of you.” 

“Well, you have Winters to thank for that, it was his idea.” He responded quite bluntly. 

You rolled your eyes.  

“Hm, I see.” You reply briskly.  

Liebgott realized he sounded like an asshole right then. 

“Of course, if you approve, I’ll appoint myself your permanent battle buddy from now on.” He extended with his signature smirk as you resumed walking together. 

You felt your face heat up. You averted your eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t see you blush. But Joseph Liebgott doesn’t miss a thing. He grinned wider. 

“If those are the LT’s orders, then have at it, Liebgott.” You replied coldly. 

“Nah, that last part was my idea.” He stated proudly. 

You shot him a confused expression, then he winked at you. 

You laughed nervously, looking away quickly to break the awkwardness you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

He smiled at you affectionately.

“And call me Joe.” He added.

“Y/N.” You reply looking up at him through your lashes.

“Look, sorry if I’m making it weird. And don’t listen to Gonorrhea. He’s just a jackass with a height deficiency. The kid always has some stupid shit to say.” He explained. 

You nod trying to suppress a giggle. 

“This is me.” You announce as you approach the entrance to your sleeping quarters. You turn to face Joe. “Thank you for the chat, and the company, Liebgott…I mean Joe.” You say dotingly. 

“Forget it. So?” He asked. 

You were genuinely confused. 

“Sooo?” You reply. 

“Am I your permanent evening escort?” he asked with a grin and a wink. 

This time you laugh outwardly at his attempt at a flirty sexual inuendo. 

“If by ‘evening escort’ you mean my nightly walk to and from one location to another, I’d have to say....I’ll think about it.” You respond flirtatiously with a wink in return. 

His face lit up. 

“Well alright then. We’ll take another test run tomorrow night.” He proposed. 

You shook your head smiling, astounded by the level of confidence this man had. 

“Good night, Joe.” You finalized as you disappear beyond the threshold of the tent entrance. 

~~~~~~~

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp chapter 133 translation "One"

Read the chapter on MangaDex!

Oh boy, while this chapter doesn't have as much dialogue like the rest that I have to work on, I had some lines that gave me trouble, like you will see in the TL notes, so please look over them. Translation notes

Although it's trivial and I'll be going over something from an early chapter but hey, you'll see just how bad the English translation is, especially with the early volumes.

Some time ago I asked on Twitter if people recalled the nickname Kuro had for Sakuya, because I had the impression he had one for him in the early chapters, similar to how Kuro calls Misono "kisama-chan", which I translate as little bastard xD Kuro refers to Sakuya as 外ハネ "soto hane" which I translated simply as "curly hair", rather than "flipped hair" which is what you'll see if you google the term. I looked into the anime subs and it was translated as "side flare." I could have used that, but to quote Mahiru, "Simple is best" xD

IIn the official localization of the manga it's not even translated T_T

The 2nd and 3rd panel are poorly translated, like the "grungy" joker part, Kuro just calls him "joker" and that's where he also calls him "soto hane. Oh boy but the last two lines in the 3rd panel are soo bad. What Kuro said originally was "I don't think little bastard and him would get along", to which Mahiru replies "Little bastard...you mean Misono?!" Yeah, so it's quite different. Okay, so let's move on to the other notes I have for this chapter.

Tsubaki's last line had me like "What?" Hopefully I haven't misunderstood it. So, Tsubaki uses the word 貯蔵庫 which means storehouse which sounds weird...The way it's written in Japanese, his line could also be translated as "Put away the "prototype" used for storage", but that doesn't make sense, right? Also, I can't say if it's singular or plural regarding the word prototype. I used the plural only because he said "siblings", cause I think it refers to them. So yeah, it's weird, what does he mean regarding storage? We'll have to see if it's brought up in other chapters.

While most of the characters' abilities have two different readings to them, in this case, the furigana reading which is the intended reading is actually used to show the pronunciation of the kanji.

Tanaka-sensei used different kanji with the same pronunciation to spell the words "shura" that is written as 修羅 and "sousou" (funeral) which is written as 葬送 Shura (or Asura), has been brought up before by Tsubaki, but with another meaning, such as fighting; carnage.

Tsubaki's ability in Japanese is written as 朱羅葬想

修=朱

送=想

So instead of the usual kanji 修羅葬送 (shura sousou) in this case, the first and 4th kanji were replaced like I showed above, both having the same pronunciation and you can't exactly get a translation for the words, so I will just breakdown each kanji to see what they represent.

The first kanji 朱 means "red; vermilion; cinnabar; scarlet". This one is probably used to make a reference to blood in my opinion.

The fourth kanji 想 means "thoughts, emotions, feelings".

So yeah, written like this 朱羅葬想 it can't be translated and the kanji that were used are most likely meant to be representative for Tsubaki. That's my opinion.

He also says the word 迎え (mukae) which means "meeting; greeting; welcome". I can't say how it relates to "shura sousou", but I thought that maybe his ability has styles? Perhaps the "welcome" is one style like from what we see, he makes some kind of barrier and when he's attacked, he vanishes and appears behind Kuro Maybe he has other fighting styles used for close combat.

Oh my God, like maybe it sounds dumb but I legit didn't know how else I could adapt what Kuro says about the counter-attack, because there were hardly any examples of how some of the words in Japanese were used, like one of them was from what I gathered, a term used in sports that translates as "take the field first" and another one basically meant ""going second" and there was another example that basically meant "going second", then there was another word that I only found in a single example...It was awful.

Cleaning the speech bubble was tough and I think it looks decent.

As you might have seen, I added this page again at the end of the chapter on Mangadex to show the other reading of the ability, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" because I couldn't add it because there wasn't enough space in the speech bubble. So, when I looked up the word, it was interesting that Wiedergänger share similarities to strigoi from my country's folklore. I think others might have brought this up regarding inner Kuro, but the fact that he uses a stake to pierce himself and uses it as a weapon that takes the form of the thing that was used to kill Kuro, a stake is used to kill a strigoi to keep them in their coffins.

Regarding inner Kuro's last line, the intended reading is "let's talk" but the other reading says "let's fight".

Also, he uses the verb 引きこもる "hikikomoru" and when you make it into a noun, you get hikikomori which is how Kuro is described. I had to chose a word that would fit both character's lines, because I couldn't have inner Kuro says "hey come on, don't be a shut-in", "or "don't seclude yourself from me", it would have sounded weird.

I think it's clever how Tanaka used that specific verb instead of just saying something like "Hey, don't stand so far away" So yeah, hopefully my insights were helpful :)

[m3-kk]

TCF NOVEL SPOILERS- My TCF notes

Hmmm it’s been a minute since I posted any of my TCF notes about the chapters.. so here ya go! THIS US PART 2 SHAWTYS!!

Ch. 1- YESSS CHAPTER 1!! Not the Kings Palace going kaboom 😶 Cale needs to rest!!! Slacker chan!!!

Ch. 5- AHHHHHHHHHH LEE SOO HYUKKKKKKKK LETSS GOOOOO! BLACK HAWKK OOO

Ch. 6- His name is now Sui Khan 😮

Ch. 7- 🍪 Cookiess! So we have to travel different dimensions now? Cale needs a break 😭😭

Ch. 8- World with the white mages = Xiaolen Planet

Ch.9- YAY DIVINE ITEM MIRROR LAPTOP THINGY! We are definitely going to like the other worlds people evil smirk 😏

Ch. 10- HAH CALE HUNG UP ON DUKE FREDO LOL! Sooo Cale is a god. 😀

Ch. 12- Dead mana is purer AND Cale’s power is more efficient here? Interesting..

Ch. 13- Hey we have a spare world tree!

Ch. 15- Mary is registering as a candidate to be a necromancer empress GO MARY!

Ch. 16- AW HER FAKE NAME IS “Heni Wishrop” HENI STANDS FOR HENITUSE!

Everyone thinks our Mary is powerful hehe!

Ch. 21- Working with Zero & the 4th Prince for the Harmony test :D

Ch. 22- OOooo Black Rain 🌧️

Ch. 24- Now we actually need to kill those hunters. How dare they lay a finger on our family. Let’s flip them over immediately.

Ch. 25- Yay! Hong & On <3 Let’s go to the infected area! 2nd Princess?

Ch. 26- the 2nd imperial princess has been converted to Caleism hah m! Tree-bush monster ye fire, destruction, protection!

Ch. 27- Are you human? HAHAH CALEE

Ch. 28- That Marquis guy is smart. Cale really is acting like a purifier so funny!

Ch. 31- Blood Message! How scary!

Ch. 34- Attacking the bad guys >:]

Ch. 36- BURNNNNNNN 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ch. 37- 50% power to get 2,500% as a result! SO EFFICIENTTTT WEEEEEE

Ch. 38- THE HUNTER WHO HUNTS HUNTERS! GO CALE SO POWERFUL HA!

Ch. 39- Cale.. not everyone is a super powerful ultimate other worldly being like you! I feel bad for Goldie Gramps 😭

Ch. 40- In Prison with the fam 😜

Ch. 41- We are going to loot!! Goldie Gramps is angry and that dragon is timid but crazy. I love our family! CHAOS LOVE

Ch. 42- DESTROY THE ESTATE MWAHAH

Ch. 43- So sad that we couldn’t loot 😭🥲

Ch. 44- Ooo Opening the safe 💰

Ch. 54- ooo revealing us to the empire?

Ch. 58- Choking? Reminds me of Adin

Ch. 63- HAH I KNEW IT THE FAKE WT IS STAYING YOOO

Ch. 64- INFOOO! Not the Patriarch blowing up that’s crazy! We could’ve gotten so much more info! But oh well! Five Colors ooo!

Ch. 65- HAHAH THE GOD OF DEATH IN THE GROUP CHAT HAHAH I LOVE HIMM HEHHEHE (I love this chapter)

Ch. 66- AWWW Chatting with fire of Purification in puppy form!

Ch. 67- This is so cute I’m glad we get a lil’ rest just chatting with the nice puppy ❤️ I love!!!

Ch. 69- Almost the end of this arc!

Ch. 71- HOME WITH THE MONEYYYYY

Ch. 73- Ron, Beacrox! I missed uuuu!

Ch. 75- Aw the Henituse Fam! Billos!

Ch. 76- You get a mine, you get a mine. EVERYONE GETSA MINE!!

Ch. 78- YOU HAVE BEEN PROMOTED YOU ARE NOW ONE OF MY ELITE EMPLOYEES!

Ch. 79- @CP we have a mommy on our side? Mummy’s boy emperor as well???

Ch. 81- CENTRAL PLAINS?! The sworn brother goodbye was cute.

Ch. 83- We meet CP’s clone?? Cutie??

Ch. 85- The disrespect! They can’t pronounce our Cale Henituse’s name!

Ch. 86- NEW NAMES LETSGOOO

Ch. 90- YOO we got a golden plaque!

Ch. 91- Cale ignores Toonka but not Roan!

Ch. 93- We found the living jiangshi!

Ch. 94- enlightenment is crazy****

Ch. 97- Talking with the Sword Sainttt

Ch. 100- Purification! Chapter 100!

Ch. 101- One word, blood. SHITTTTT NOO

Ch. 102- AWKWARD! Yay Choi Jung SOO

Ch. 106- LET HIM EATTTT

Ch. 108- So many ally’s yay !!!!

Ch. 112- We. Are. Going. To. EATT! (a elixir)

Ch. 113- 70% shield 53% water

Ch. 116- The Alliance leader is being bitchy SHOW EM’ WHOSE BOSS! (Roan misses Alberu)

Ch. 118- Don’t hurt our Cale! Please!

Ch. 119- Aw I love when Choi Han & Beacrox talk together about family

Ch. 121- Ah the god ole trash bastard days

Ch. 123- Green Forest Bastards try and mess with us?! Angry Cale! >:(

Ch. 124- OO Cale is the BOSS MAN

Ch. 127- 68% then 72% of fire!!

Ch. 128- Pfft Caleism has a poem now lol.

Ch. 129- HUHH Big complicated lore??

Ch. 131- WOAHH The Heavenly Demon is a smart cookie fr fr wow intelligent!

Ch. 135- The Left Guard is so cute awe

Ch. 136- Oh no the Heavenly Demon ain’t doing so good :[

Ch. 137- Helping out the HD again. Spy?

Ch. 139- Aw Choi Family spars. I love it

Ch. 141- HD is being healed yay

Ch. 142- I was so concerned about Cale the whole time! Bloody Battle

Ch. 146- (I hope everyone at home is ok)

Ch. 151- TALKING WITH ALBERU YAYAYAY

Ch. 152- Pinnacle Demon is poison crazy

Ch. 153- We going to destroy things now?

Ch. 154- YAY DESTRUCTION DESTROY

Ch. 155- FINALLY FLIP THINGS OVER KYA

Ch. 157- OO WATER AP FOUND SOMETHIN

Ch. 158- OMG DRAGON LORE?? YAHOO

Ch. 159- “Raon’s lackey” I got the chills!

Ch. 160- OOOooo I’m hooked! Dragons<3

Ch. 162- Oh DAMN! We got a mf jackpot! Water is 300 percent stronger than the OG. No blood shed! Dragons are great!

Ch. 163- HAHA LOOTING ANCIENT STUFF

Ch. 165- Scale+Crown+Crown=Red Crown

Ch. 169- Shit is going down! TSUNAMI!

Ch. 171- How dare she think to threaten us, she shall die by Choi Hans sword.

Ch. 176- Old man Baek describes Cale’s world and “reads” him

Ch. 183- I love that we can run wild!! 😜

Ch. 185- THE PRIESTESS the youngest daughter of Orsena!

Ch. 186- The Dominantung Aura

Ch. 187- Our little Han got stronger (I’m so fucking proud of him 🥲)

Ch. 188- We killed her.. Last words?

Ch. 189- The Formation Collapsed!

Ch. 190- Raon’s MC moment. (Cute bond)

Ch. 191- Using water AP to Max! Or not?

Ch. 192- the Punto Banhui and Tears💧

Ch. 195- You got games on your phone?

Ch. 196- Everyone wants Cale to be a god

Ch. 199- WE LEFT!!! NOW WE ARE HOMEE

Ch. 200- Awww so cute at Alberu’s casa

Ch. 201- That actually so funny 🤣

Ch. 202- Zoom Call with Ahn Roh Man talking about gamess. Similarities?

Ch. 206- Aw it been a bit since we chilled

Ch. 209- Speech ruined! (So every time Cale has to do a speech it’s interrupted)