#because I tried to Not have a panic attack and besties. take it from me. nobody has IGNORED a panic attack and lived to tell the tale

[ratislatis]

idk why it’s just coming to me now but I remember feeling this cold, white catharsis upon realizing that it wasn’t Freddie’s decision to give Glenn that panic attack. It was Anthony’s. And the way he said it, so finite, “Glenn is having a panic attack.” in a tone that was used before only to set up a disastrous scene.

It hurt, a lot, because in the weirdest way possible that’s exactly what having a panic attack is like. You’re sitting there with your world crashing down around you and then a disembodied narrator suddenly says, “This bitch shutting down.” (Distinctly in a Stanley Parable manner.)

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #glenn close #using the team’s actual names instead of ‘mr/mrs lastname’ was fucking traumatizing but I did it so nobody would get confused #anyway I wanted to say something in the tags that I couldn’t above because I can’t add breaks while on mobile #so tw for active shooter DRILLS if you’re reading this #one time. not too long ago #we had an active shooter drill at school while I was in orchestra #and as soon as I heard that my body went ‘oh hell no’ but I have anxiety so I ignored it #and we got outside #and the whole music department was huddled in the parking lot #and it was a beautiful day #and I was shaking #and I turn to my acquaintance maddie and I go #‘I think im having a panic attack’ #and then I start laughing hysterically. and I bend over with a hand on her shoulder because there are tears streaming down my face #and my conductor bless his gay soul he comes over like ‘what is going on’ #and I had to shuffle to the bhr while an imaginary shooter was in the school #because I tried to Not have a panic attack and besties. take it from me. nobody has IGNORED a panic attack and lived to tell the tale #anyway. glenn just like me fr LMAO

[this-aint-massachusetts]

more FNaF hcs because the tism™️ is telling me to info dump

sorry if some of these are the same as the last one I forget which ones I put before 🙁

-When Mike was chasing after the car he tripped scraped his knee broke his ankle and busted his kneecap and just gave up on life right then and there

-Mike smokes weed but he could take the tiniest tinniest hit of a bong and he’d cough up a lung so he just mainly sticks to blunts or bowls

-Abby has called 911 multiple times because she wanted to contact Vanessa but it obviously didn’t work. 

-Vanessa used to dye her hair fun colors but she can’t anymore cuz of her job but she wears colorful extensions 

-Abby’s therapist has tried so hard to hint at Mike that he should get an autism diagnosis because his sister has one and he still hasn’t picked up on it despite showing clear traits of autism 

-When golden Freddy and Abby left the cab he just handed Cory a piece of paper with ‘one million dollars’ scribbled on it in green crayon. Cory was to scared to say no he just was like “yeah ok sure” and then cried 

-Mike and Abby did not go to Aunt Janes funeral they instead went to Dave and Busters and played arcade games while their entire extended family blew up Mikes Nokia phone

-Aunt Jane was a “wine mom” and was in heavy denial of being an alcoholic 

-Abby really likes bugs and puts them in her pockets but Mike is terrified of bugs so he freaks out whenever he sees them crawling on her or in her laundry 

-Vanessa apologizes to people while arresting them

-The animatronics consider the cupcake to be their puppy and get confused when people think he’s a menace

-One time Doug ran into Mike and Abby at Walmart once and he just threw his thick ass lawyer wallet at then then ran away to have a panic attack. Mike and Abby bought a blow up pool that day

-Doug had to go to therapy due to Aunt Jane being an absolute fucking Karen

-Doug’s now a regular at Sparkys and is besties with Ness, he considers Ness “The son he never had”

-Bonnie kid (Jeremy) really liked Spider-Man

-Vanessa has a pitbull named Princess that she took home from an animal control call. (The dog is a fucking danger to society)

-Abby picked up on some 80s slang from the animatronics and now just says radical to everything 

-Max and her friends would be doing TikTok trends before TikTok was even a thing (stealing soap dispensers from public bathrooms, sticking pennies in electrical sockets ect)

-Vanessa is a Disney adult/hj

-There’s a rubix cube in the pizzeria that the animatronics have been trying to solve since they’ve been dead basically 

-Every night after Abby goes to bed Mike goes to the kitchen and eats shredded cheese by the handful. Abby caught him once and he cried.

-Mike is the type of person to ask those weird questions while watching movies, like: “If their underwater how are they drinking soda?”

-Mike would stuff all his emotions and feelings down till he bursts and it usually results in him locking himself in his room while having a panic attack

-Max was also a weed dealer so Mikes out of a babysitter and a plug. 

-Vanessa hates soda, loves tea tho

-Mike really likes the Care Bears and uses Abby as an excuse for liking it

-Ness uses those really cheesy pet names for Mike, some of them southern originated because I believe in southern Ness solidarity. Ex: Sweetie pie, Sugar, Doe

-Abby is really good at hide and seek but caused Mike a few panic attacks because of how well she hides

-After Freddy’s neither Mike or Abby could sleep without a nightlight so she lent Mike hers on the agreement she could sleep in his room with him. (He of course accepted)

-Mike: Where’s my Diet Coke?

Vanessa: Oh I threw it away, sodas not good for you.

Mike: Oh ok- WHAT.

-Abby still asks Mike to tie her shoes for her even though he already taught her how to tie them herself

-Mike has a very particular morning routine that he has to follow every morning and feels icky if it gets interrupted for any reason 

-Mike is more noise sensitive and Abby is more texture sensitive but Mike still hates certain textures (ex: olives)

-Mike has considered owning chickens and even went with Abby to look at little chicks but she soon started sneezing and feeling sick and that's when they found out she's allergic so that quickly got shut down

-Abby gives her stuffed animals lore and hierarchies and Ness is always asking her about it when her and Mike go into the diner

-Vanessa Has a very minimalist style not because she likes it but because she's scared of getting attached to anything she calls home which at times worries her when she's with Mike, Abby and Ness. This results in her sitting in bed, chewing on her lip thinking of constant escape plans and emergency exits in case her father ever returns, if something bad happens, etc.

-Mike likes seeing Abby draw him and pretends not to notice when she stares and tries to get the color of his shirt just right (he buys clothing in colors she has to make it easier)

-Abby is the type to point out cows and horses and will repeatedly kick Mike's seat even while he's driving until he acknowledges them

-Abby doesn’t understand why her and Mike can’t just print more money to make them rich and Mike has had to explain to to her 12837383838 times

-Ness is a theater kid (yeah if you didn’t see this coming I think you need glasses)

-Ness and Mike play lps with Abby, Abby explains all of her lps lore extensively and Ness listens to every bit of it while Mike is just like: “I love you both but wtf”

-Mike sometimes age regresses sometimes when put under pressure and Ness is literally the best caretaker ever (this one’s based on a Dreamtheory fic I read once and I fell in love with the idea)

-Ness and Mike call each other every night before going to sleep and once Mike forgot so he woke up the next morning to 300+ voicemails from Ness asking if he’s ok

okay that’s all i have for now I’ll post more later when i feel like it oki byeee 😘✌️

#securitywaiter #fnaf movie #fnaf #ness fnaf #mike fnaf #mike x ness #mike schmidt #ness the waiter #vanessa afton #abby schmidt #my headcanons #headcanon #I promise I’ll make more William hcs in part three

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

WE NEED SOME LYRA AND GRAY HCS 🙏

OKAYYYYY 🤭🤭🤭🙌

- grayson calls her “ms. kane” when he’s teasing her but usually just calls her “my love” or just “love” 🤭

- she’s the only one who can make him blush, and somehow managed to do it in front of his brothers. they all cheered and snapped a photo, but grayson went onto all of their phones and deleted it 💀

- whenever grayson plans a visit with gigi and sav they always make him bring lyra too because they “love her more than him” (in a joking way, but gray still told lyra and she found it funny)

- when grayson first met her parents, lyra forced him to wear a NORMAL outfit (normal pants and a nice shirt) and his brothers were all speechless when he left the house 😭😭

- whenever xander can’t get grayson to agree to something stupid, he always makes lyra ask (and he always say yes to her 🤭)

- he loves giving her nose kisses and she loves giving him forehead kisses

- before gray and lyra became a thing, gray used to wake up at around 5:30, but after they started dating and lyra started sleeping in his bed she made him get up at 7 instead because “nobody should be waking up at that time” (he’s lowk grateful for it though because he ends up feeling more energized when he does wake up)

- THIS ONES MORE A SPECIFIC SITUATION BUT STILL!!

- gray, lyra, avery, libby, max, xan, Jamie, and nash were all swimming in the pool to cool off on a hot day, when suddenly jameson pushes lyra into the pool (they’re besties so it was in a joking way 💀)

- gray gives him a look, and when lyra comes up for air and starts saying “ow, jameson you made me scrape my ankle really hard, I think it’s bleeding” the look turns into a lecture

- lyra puts a hand out for gray to hold and help her out, when suddenly her pained expression turns into a devilish grin. She tugs on his hand, and sends him flying into the pool. everybody starts laughing, when Xander’s eyes go wide and he starts telling lyra to swim to the little stairs thing that gets you out of the pool (help I forgot what it’s called 💀)

- lyra realizes at the same time what everyone else did, that she needed to swim away as fast as she could. why? because she, who is the most average and slow swimmer to ever walk this planet, just pushed a practically olympic swimmer into a pool. NOT a good idea. 💀

- she swims away, going underwater to help her move faster, when her legs suddenly get pulled from behind her. She gets spinned around and is suddenly face to face with grayson. he’s smiling, and has the same devilish expression that lyra wore earlier. taking her up with him for air, he puts an arm under her legs and one on her back and carries her out of the water baby style. xander grins and steps toward grayson, and suddenly he was carrying her ankles, and grayson was holding her arms. they threw her into the pool, and grayson teased her for the rest of the day for being a slow swimmer 🙄💗

- he’s very big on hand placement, so he always has a hand on her thigh or around her waist 🤭🙌

- lyra is a very light sleeper, meanwhile graysons a DEEP sleeper. because of this, lyra could bang pots and pans in the morning and still not wake him up, but if grayson tries to get her head off his chest with even the slightest movement in the morning she’ll immediately wake up 💀

- he’s obsessed with how she looks in dresses with the leg slit (😻) and always tells her how beautiful she looks wearing them

- grayson is in love with lyras voice, so whenever he’s having a panic attack she’s always there whispering sweet things in his ear, or even just stories that she grew up being read, and it always calms him down 😭💗💗

- acacia loves lyra and lyras mom (assuming she has a good relationship with her mom) loves grayson 🫶🫶

- grayson loves to braid lyras hair, so sometimes when she gets out of the shower and is about to go to bed he’ll braid it 💗💗

- grayson loves how she looks in dark red lipstick and can’t stop kissing her whenever she does wear it 🤭🤭

- and she loves how he looks in suits (although she’ll never admit it because she doesn’t want his ego to get somehow bigger 💀)

- grayson always has to lie about how much he spends on clothes/gifts for lyra cuz she’ll be mad if he spends too much 💀

- for example it’d go like this:

- “hey gray, how much did you spend on this necklace you got me?”

-“$60.”

-“are you sure? dont lie”

“……$600”

“are you serious?? that’s way too much to spend on a necklace!”

“okay, then you’re not gonna like the actual price..”

“why? what’s the actual price?”

“…”

“grayson…”

“just… just add one more zero…”

“$6000?????”

- because of that whole thing, she’s somehow convinced him to not spend too much money on her (he still does anyway 💀)

OKAY THATS ALL THANKS FOR THE REQUEST 🫶🫶

#lyra kane #grayson hawthorne #lyra and gray #lyra x grayson #the grandest game #the inheritance games #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #xander hawthorne #my hcs #jennifer lynn barnes #maxine liu #libby grambs

[hockeyshmockey]

Daniel Ricciardo- Met Monday

summary: when two famous people become lost for words around each other. Daniel Ricciardo x fem!oc

warnings: brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety!

“How are you?” Sarah asked her client, who was taking deep breaths in a heavy, intricate gown in the back seat of a SUV.

“Just trying not to vomit,” Jane tried to smile at her assistant in a way that was reassuring, but she was sure it came across as forced as it felt.

“You can do this!” Sarah encouraged. “The carpet will only take around 15 minutes, and then it’s just interviews. And you’re scheduled with Emma, you love interviewing with her.”

“You’re right,” Jane tried to breath. She had been in this industry since she was 16, but sometimes it never got easier. Of course, the Met Gala was unlike anything she had ever experience before. The actress had been to Cannes, the Oscars, so many award shows she couldn’t count, but Anna Wintour’s evening was THE event.

When Jane had gotten the call from Valentino, she had been stunned. Though she had done a campaign with the brand the year before, she never would have guessed they would have invited her to the event. But here she was, in a custom designed gown, getting ready to walk one of the most extravagant carpets in the world.

“Yeah, we got this,” Jane took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she felt the car slow, and the sounds outside crescendo as they approached the venue. As the brunette opened her eyes, she met Sarah’s concerned gaze. Giving the woman a more confident smile, Jane looked out the window as their driver hopped out and walked around to the back door.

Here we go, the woman thought as she climbed out and pasted on a smile. She waved as she walked past the wall of fans to where the carpet began. Like Sarah had guessed, once Jane was on the carpet and posing, time flew. She stopped for photos with some others in Valentino, including Pedro Pascal who had listened with a grin as the girl gushed about The Last of Us. 

Jane’s grin turned softer as she reached the top of the stairs and saw Sarah waiting for her next to a familiar brunette. 

“Oh here we go!” Emma Chamberlain let out her familiar laugh as Jane made her way towards the younger girl. “Guys it’s my girl Jane Richards, from the great outback!”

Jane laughed as she pulled Emma into a little side cuddle before standing in front of her and the camera. “I’m only here so you’ll send me coffee.”

“Fair point,” Emma shrugged. “So, Jane tell us all about the fit!”

“So this is Valentino,” Jane grinned as she ran her hands down her Valentino Pink Creation. “The team really let me dive into this. I loved the idea of doing a pantsuit because I am a whore for a pantsuit, and then they wanted me in a cape, and Marvel hasn’t called yet so I thought this would be my only chance to be in a cape.”

Emma laughed along with the woman as she asked more typical questions before turning to the juicy part of the interview, as she spotted her secondary victim in the background. “Now,” Emma turned to the camera. “As you guys know, Jane and I are besties, and we know deep and dirty secrets about each other.”

“Oh god,” Jane whispered, wondering what the brunette was up to.

“One of Jane’s guilty pleasures is F1 racing,” Emma turned back to Jane. “You were at the Vegas GP preparations last year, you went to multiple races, you’re a huge fan!”

“Oh yes,” Jane nodded. “I grew up in Australia but my family is British so our house was always watching the races. And then when Ricciardo started racing for Red Bull, we had a hometown racer that I was able to watch in real time, it was so cool.”

“Ah yes, Ricciardo,” Emma nodded. “Famously, you have admitted while under the influence of the puppy interview, that he is your celebrity crush.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Jane blushed as she giggled, knowing her confession had over 11 million views on Youtube.

“Well, as much as I hate to do this, which I don’t,” Emma grinned. “Let’s get him over here! Hi Daniel!”

Jane choked on her own breath as she looked over her shoulder to see a head of curly hair walk up to her little corner with Emma. “Oh my god,” Jane coughed as Sarah started to walk over.

“Arms up,” a familiar twang said as tattooed hands grabbed her arms and guided them over her head. “Can’t admit I’ve had this reaction before.”

“Oh my god,” Jane patted her eyes as she reached for the bottle of water Sarah offered. “I am so sorry I-”

“No worries,” Daniel Ricciardo laughed as he came to stand by her. “I was just-”

“This is so fun,” Emma cackled. “Sorry J, didn’t mean to almost kill you.”

Jane glared at Emma as the producer got them another microphone. “Sorry to crash,” the brunette tried to say quietly as they waited for Emma. “I’m really, I mean, I’m a huge fan like-”

“Alright lovebirds,” Emma cut in with a smile. “We’re going to play a quick game of Australian trivia with two of our favorite Aussies.”

“Do you want to hold this or-” Daniel fumbled the microphone as Jane moved closer to him.

“No it’s ok I think,” she tried to play it cool. “We can be team mates.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel laughed as they turned to Emma who had 10 questions ready to go.

No one was surprised when the rest of the Vogue interview was filled with laughs, memes and sneaky looks between Jane and Daniel. As Emma said goodbye to them, Jane grabbed Daniel’s arm and made a head nod to a corner away from the cameras. 

Daniel was confused, but happy that the woman in front of him wanted to keep speaking with him. He knew after tonight he would have texts from all of his friends giving him so much shit for the cluster he made of his first chat with the woman, but she seemed just as flustered.

“So, first off, fuck McLaren,” Jane laughed nervously as she looked into Daniel’s eyes as he laughed with her. 

“Thank you for the solidarity,” Daniel smiled that signature beam that Jane mirrored. 

“I just felt it was important to tell you, that when I was in the car on the way here, on the verge of an anxiety attack, I thought on your quote about enjoying the butterflies, and it really calmed me down. And I think it is so admirable the way you can be yourself with the way you were treated last season and-”

“Go to dinner with me,” Daniel blurted out, cutting the rambling blushing woman off. “I’m sorry, but I would hit myself if I didn’t get to talk about this with you when eight hundred cameras aren’t tracking us and I can get myself together enough to flirt with you.”

“Oh,” Jane looked at him wide eyed. “You want to flirt with me?”

“Haven’t you seen the memes that came out after your puppy interview of me admitting you’re my biggest celebrity crush,” Daniel winked. “I feel like I owe you a meal that doesn’t cost a few grand a plate.”

“I’m more of a burger and chips type of girl,” Jane smiled softly.

“My type of girl,” Daniel grinned.

The next day, the f1 gossip pages were filled with clips of Daniel and Jane’s interview. Emma Chamberlain would later get a huge flower arrangement and wine from two Australians for forcing them together.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #Formula 1 #Formula One #formula1 #formula 1 imagines #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagines #Formula One Driver #imagine #fluff #daniel ricciardo x oc

[wallet6464]

FIRST POST IN AGES (sorry for lack of posts!) BUT ME AND @meilmao WERE TALKING ABOUT MIRAGE RUSH AND THEY DROPPED THE FUNNIEST DATE IDEA EVER

(Most of this is copy pasted I hope you enjoy)

Hondo and tiger are on a dinner date and then going star gazing.

The rest of punch out is just watching em

(We like to headcannon dragon and tiger as besties btw lol)

ALR MAIN PART IF TGE POST:

Aran Ryan is trying to sabotage the date but macho and soda are stopping him from doing so. Glass joe is not even paying attention cause my man is fucking stargazing as well. Disco kid fr being annoying as hell and loud while Kaiser and bull try not to explode on him. Don flamenco giving out tips, no one is listening to his ass.

King hippo is there for shits and giggles, he has no clue what’s going on. He went with them because everyone was going and he thought they were hanging out. Hippo does not like this hang out. Bear hugger is talking to his damn squirrel. He tried to get the squirrel to be the wing man but it ended up fucking jumpscaring Tiger in the process. Sandman is the only sane one there. He is genuinely watching the two having a good time together and is happy for them. Dragon Chan is there cheering him on because it’s his bestie

Gabby jay is asleep on the ground. He is an old goober and is too tired to stay up to watch the romance happen. He woke up and had a mini panic attack because he had no clue where he was (he forgot they were stalking Tiger and Honda). Hurricane is super bored, he doesn’t want to be there anymore. Bob Charlie is humming to himself. My dude also forgot where they were. He wasn’t paying attention

Masked muscle was literally tied up because he was trying to tackle the love birds during their date. Heike was saying aww the entire time and plotting the next date to stalk. He was also making sure no one killed disco kid since he was being annoying. Mad clown hated it. My dude was forced to come and hated every second of it. He was going to throw his fucking balls at them but heike caught him before he could. Narcis prince was literally criticizing their fucking date. He was saying shit like “You take him stargazing and not going to make a move? Lame ass date”. He was being a dick the entire time. Hoy quarlow was just saying “look at those lovebirds” repeatedly. He couldn’t think of anything to say. The brothers were talking to each other and wasn’t paying attention to the date. They thought it was hella boring

ALR THATS THIS FIRE ASS POST SHOUT OUT TO MY G @meilmao

#punch out #punch out wii #great tiger #dragon chan #piston hondo #mirage rush #USBUDBD

[nonclassyparty]

Starring Role - ACT IV (C.S; S.MG)

title; I got a problem with parties 'cause it's loud in my brain and I can never say sorry 'cause I won't take the blame  

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

warnings (PLEASE READ!): the teaser contains a depiction of attempted sexual assault and descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of drug abuse

wc: almost 16k

taglist: @joonsthethicc @marievllr-abg @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse  @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify     @btshook @atzcoke  @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale @xosim @raineadlr @ilikepalta @m4rsluv @gojocatt @smimingi @bubbleteakittyy  @mingkiyoo @theactresstarringinurbadreams​

buy me a coffee!

act iii / masterlist / act v  

“It's easy to look back and see it, and it's easy to give the advice. But the sad fact is, most people don't look beneath the surface until it's too late.”

― Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped

"I'm going to Wooyoung's place!"

You can hear your mother gasp out dramatically after hearing your loud announcement as you walk towards the front door, your bag draped over your shoulder and your coat in hand.

Your father lowers the newspaper in his hands as he sits on the living room couch and looks at you over the rim of his reading glasses, a distinct sign that he's not sure you're telling the truth. Even Seonghwa, who doesn't ever seem to care what you're up to nowadays, peeks out from the kitchen with his brows furrowed.

You can feel all of them watch you as you pull your coat on and zip up your boots but you don't look at them, knowing that they think you're actually following what they want by seeing Wooyoung makes you angry so you ignore them and leave the house.

But not before you hear your mother speak, just before you close the door.

"Did you hear that?" She exclaims, probably to your dad, "She's going to his place! I told you it would work!"

You roll your eyes and slam the door shut before walking to your car.

They have no idea that the reason you're going to Wooyoung's place isn't because you're fucking him and he's planning to propose to you but because he's gay and you're annoying and want to try your new make-up palette on him.

"Can you close your eyes normally?" You scold Wooyoung as you shift in his lap, balancing a brand new Pat McGratch eyeshadow palette in one hand and a brush in the other.

Wooyoung is underneath you in his pajamas, with his eyes shut so tight you're worried it will cause early wrinkles.

It's all very two-besties-hanging-out-on-a-Thursday-night but if anyone would walk in, all they would see was you straddling Wooyoung with his hands on your thighs and faces very close to each other.

"Sorry, I'm scared you're gonna poke my eye out." He mutters with his eyebrows knitted and a pout on his lips as he peeks at you through one eye and then tries to relax so you can work on his eyelids.

"Don't worry, I've been doing this for years." You whisper, applying more shadow to his other lid and trying to even it out. You hum in approval. "Oh, a smokey eye looks good on you!"

"It does?" He asks, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt as you continue to work. "I've never worn make-up before."

"You're missing out, it's fun."

"My dad would probably kill me if he saw me like this." He laughs but you can recognize the tinge of sadness that he tries to play off in his voice.

"Then you just have the wrong dad." You shrug, applying a thin layer of color on his lower lash line.

"Do I?" He asks quietly, eyes looking at you timidly. "Or am I just wrong?"

You lower your brush away from his face to look at him properly. He's staring back with a serious expression on his face before his eyes dart away from you and focus on something else in his spacious living room.

"Don't be stupid." You say bluntly, busying yourself applying more shadow to his crease so he doesn't notice just how much his question affects you. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Really? Because everything would just be so much easier if I was normal."

"You are normal." You snap, eyes connecting to him so he knows that you mean every word you say. "It's not your fault that your parents are so shitty that you have to hide who you are from them."

Wooyoung goes quiet, bottom lip jutting out and eyes dropping down as he continues to play with the hem of your skirt.

You close your eyes, taking a silent breath and cursing yourself for snapping at him. A month ago, Jung Wooyoung wasn't someone you cared about in the slightest but things are different now.

He is your....friend. Yeah, Jung Wooyoung is your friend.

And seeing the way he beats himself up, hurts you.

"Is your dad wrong as well?" He asks quietly, interrupting the silence.

You chuckle at the question, dropping down the brush once you're done and moving off of him to retrieve the small mirror from your bag.

"Wooyoung, both of my parents are so wrong for me that if I wasn't the spitting image of my mother, I'd think they snatched someone else's baby at the hospital." You hand him the mirror. "Here."

Wooyoung looks at his reflection in the small mirror, moving his head side to side and admiring the work on his eyes.

"Oh wow, you're right." He nods, almost impressed. "It does look good on me."

Snorting, you sit down next to him and look around his living room.

It's spacious and nicely decorated, modern furniture that matches with the rest of the apartment.

"You got a nice apartment." You hum and Wooyoung drops the mirror down on the coffee table. "Kinda great that they let you move out."

"Doesn't really make much of a difference," He responds bitterly, sitting up and pouring you a glass of juice that he got out of the fridge once you arrived. "They hang over me so much that it feels like I'm still with them. And if it's not my parents then it's their secretaries."

You don't respond to the admission, only let your head hang back on the sofa with pursued lips.

It seems like both you and Wooyoung are in the same boat, no matter what. Both of you can't seem to escape your parents' clutches and not due to the lack of effort.

"Hey, what happened last week with you?" He asks suddenly, taking a sip from his glass. "Somebody said they saw you and some guy fighting in a hallway on campus or something."

Oh, right. That.

You stay silent, intensely staring at his turned off flat screen TV. Maybe if you play it off like you didn't hear him, he'll move on. Wooyoung doesn't budge though.

"Was the guy San?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Is your curt reply.

"Why not?" Wooyoung persists.

"I don't know, why don't you want to talk about Namhyuk?" You throw back quickly, cocking your head to the side only to see Wooyoung's curious eyes melt into a glare.

A moment of silence ensues where you let out a deep sigh and look around his apartment, hoping to see something that you could start a conversation about. Because, as crazy as it sounds considering your history with Wooyoung, you didn't come here to fight tonight.

You just wanted to hang out.

"How about a boy for a boy?" You turn to him in confusion at the question. Wooyoung stares back.

"What? A boy for a boy?" You shake your head, not understanding what he's getting at.

"You tell me about San and I'll tell you about Namhyuk." He elaborates and you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off, "But it has to be the full story. Your feelings about him, how you met, how it ended. Just...everything."

You glare at him for one silent moment, hesitant about the entire situation and slightly hating Wooyoung for making you pick. You're really curious about Namhyuk.

"Fine. If you don't want to then-"

"San and I met at my first college party."

"Look dude, I already told you I wasn't interested!" You try to put as much distance between you and the disgustingly drunk and two-times-bigger-than-you college boy who cornered you the moment you stepped out of the bathroom.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that." He slurs with a sleazy grin as he twirls a strand of your long hair around his finger. "I just want to have some fun. I could definitely show you a good time."

"No, thank you." You say firmly, deciding that maybe if you're nice in turning him down he might give up but he only moves closer making you back up against the wall.

"You're a freshman, aren't you? How about I show you how college boys have fun?" Once he places his sweaty hand on your waist, you weakly push him away and try to make your escape but his hand wraps harshly around your wrist and he pins you to back the wall.

You look around the empty hallway of the second floor as that very familiar panic began to set in at full speed as your hands continue to push at his chest. The music was loud and everyone was downstairs. You had a drink or two but you were still sober enough to think straight so you knew that this guy could easily pull you in the empty bedroom you were a step away from.

No-one would see him pull you in, no-one would notice you were gone because Jennie and the rest of the girls were too drunk and high to care, no-one would hear you scream and no-one would find you until it was too late.

"Please, let go of me." You whimper, pushing weakly but it's like your hands are made out of lead, too heavy to lift up.

Flashbacks of the time you were sixteen start playing in front of your eyes and you squeeze your eyes shut, tears now freely streaming down your face as you feel him touch your back.

"L-let go!" You sob but he doesn't listen instead you feel lips on your neck that make your throat start closing up.

And then it's gone. He's pushed off of you.

You slide down the wall as dots began to cloud your vision. You can faintly recognize yelling in the background but it's overpowered by the buzzing in your ears. You're trying to catch your breath but it's like all the air in the house got sucked in, you feel hands on your clothed shoulders.

"H...y. Yo....ne...d to br...ath..."

You're gripping someone's hand. It's bigger than yours and you can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Something cold is placed at the back of your neck and it makes you jump in place as you look up in surprise, vision finally clearing.

He's in front of you and his mouth is moving, he's the one who is holding your hand.

"Ar... y...u ok...y?"

"H-huh?" You stutter out, blinking away so your eyes can adjust to the lighting. Finally, there's that 'pop!' in your ears and the buzzing disappears.

"Are you okay?"

You finally take the time to look around you, there's a bottle of water opened up next to you and a puddle next to your feet with kitchen towels next to it. The guy is nowhere to be found and your eyes widen when you realize that your ability to speak is back.

"He-! He tried to- He didn't want to let me go! I t-told him no but he-"

"Hey, hey!" A soft but stern voice interrupts you, "I know, okay? He's gone."

You look at him, your head leaning back against the wall as your hands continue to shake.

"Where...where is he?" You whisper, feeling scared that he'll come back.

"The guys  that live here beat him up and reported him to campus police. We're all going to make sure he gets charged. Okay? He's not going to get away with this. I won't let him." He answers, you can recognize the anger in his voice that he tries to suppress for the sake of you but his cheeks are flushed and he's replacing the wet kitchen towel on the back of your neck with a new one. You recognize it as the cold sensation you felt a moment ago. "Sorry, your clothes are getting wet but you were having a panic attack."

A panic attack.

You haven't had those in awhile.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" He asks, moving your hair out of the way as he adjusts the wet towel.

"No." You respond through a whisper, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Did you come here alone?" He keeps prodding, you nod in response despite knowing Jennie is probably downstairs drunk off her ass. How could she possibly help you? "Do you live on campus? I can walk you home."

"I don't live on campus." You answer quickly and he pauses with putting the cap back on the water bottle as he glances at you.

"Okay, that sounded weird, especially after what you just went through." He shakes his head, like he was scolding himself, "I sent the rest of the guys that were here away because I figured you needed space. You don't have to be scared of me, I just...I'm trying to help."

"I'm fine."

"Can you call someone, at least? So they can take you home?"

You don't say that you were the one that drove the rest of the girls here. You realize what a stupid decision it was to drink when you're supposed to drive home but after the fight with Seonghwa today...after he attacked you like that...you needed a fucking drink.

"I...I drove here." You say quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"You drove here...." You can't tell if he says it like he's judging you but you're too shaken up to be embarrassed. "Did you drink?"

"I had two glasses."

He sighs quietly, you notice the music is a lot quieter downstairs as well. You can hear laughter occasionally.

"Okay, we'll just wait for you to sober up then." And he hands you the water bottle.

You take it and stand up on shaky legs but look at the stairs leading to the first floor in reluctance. He notices quickly.

"You don't want to go back downstairs?"

You shake your head in 'no'.

He looks around in thought before turning to you again and motioning to the big balcony. "Do you want to sit with me outside?

Your feet move to the direction of the balcony, the fresh August night air hitting your skin makes goosebumps rise and you take off the wet kitchen towel that was clinging to your neck before sitting down on one of the empty chairs. He quietly sits next to you.

You start gulping down the water to help your dry throat but also to sober you up as quickly as possible.

He clears his throat next to you.

"I'm sorry if I'm handling this the wrong way or something. I'm...I don't know what I'm doing actually." He chuckles nervously, "I'm just trying to help the best way I can and-"

"You're doing fine." You quietly interrupt, glancing at him before looking at the view over the railing. "I don't know how one is supposed to handle when something like this happens so..."

"...right."

Your hands are still shaking and your heart is still beating loudly but at least you're breathing normally again.

"How...how are you just so calm all of a sudden?" He asks quickly, brows furrowed as he levels you with a stare. He sucks in a deep breath. "Because I'm...I'm angry and freaked out."

You turn to him again, face blank and trying to think of what to say. Do you tell him this isn't the first time something like this happened?

"Do you have a cigarette?" You ask, turning to him and he looks at you in a 'are you serious right now?' way before nodding. He pulls out a pack from his back pocket before giving you a hesitant look.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to smoke? I mean, you just had a panic atta-"

"It'll be fine." You cut him off, grabbing the pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, he offers you a lighter.

You breathe out the smoke, watching it disappear into the air as you both sit in silence. His fingers keep tapping the armrest of the chair.

"I'm Y/N." You murmur, needing to do something to distract you from your shaky hands.

"I wish we met under better circumstances, Y/N." He replies lightly and you turn to him, his lips quirk up and dimples show.

"I'm San."

"He didn't start flirting until I started flirting that night." You sigh, running a hand through your hair before leaning to grab your glass from the table. "But he was so sweet and cute. And not in a, like, physical way although, yeah, San is hot. But he was just so nice and despite what happened that night, he made me feel so safe. And it's not easy for me to feel safe with anyone, especially a guy."

Wooyoung sits silently next to you but he hangs onto every word, eyes heavy on the side of your face.

"And I know..." You mutter, playing with your fingers, "I know any decent guy would've done the same thing but San...he was there at every single hearing I had with the campus about that incident. I never told my parents because...I just didn't... but San was there. He didn't even speak more than two words to me at a time but he was there, in my corner, every single step of the way until that guy was suspended and got what he deserved."

You sigh, head dropping back to rest on the couch. Wooyoung stays unmoving on his side.

"I wanted to be with him." You say in a small voice. "I already decided that at the party but the desire just grew. I wanted to know everything about him. Which was a fucking mistake because anyone getting to know Choi San better is his own personal nightmare." You grumble bitterly and Wooyoung chuckles softly. "We started sleeping with each other because, apparently, he doesn't date. Which is bullshit since he's dating someone right now."

Yeah, San and Boyoung were officially boyfriend and girlfriend now. Minjeong told you four days ago.

"And I fell in love." Wooyoung hisses at that and you let out a snort, amused by your own tragedy.

"I blew up on his girlfriend last week. And you know very well what I mean by that..." You throw Wooyoung a smirk because he knows better than anyone just how vile you can actually get as he was your victim himself one too many times- only Wooyoung fought back just as hard and was just as vile.

"I was horrible..." You whisper, brows furrowing as the guilt you've been carrying for the past week seeps through your voice. "I was so...And she just took it. She didn't say a single word to me, instead she just took whatever bullshit I threw at her."

"And then San blew up on me." You carry on, trying to hide just how affected you were by his words. "Said it how it always was, I guess. He never cared about me, was only in it for the sex. Still hurt like a bitch, though."

"I understand that he helped you and everything. And I know you, like, hate losing ever since you were a kid but still, why would you put yourself through that, Y/N?" Wooyoung can't help but ask and you pursue your lips, fingers coasting over the material of your plaid skirt.

"Do you know that movie Flipped?" You question and he looks confused, partly annoyed because he thinks you're avoiding the question.

"No." He shakes his head.

"It's a good movie. It's based on this book by Wendelin Van Draanen." You explain and he just keeps watching you, waiting to see where you're going with this. "Well, it's about a girl who keeps chasing this boy who absolutely never deserved her, in my opinion. The girl's father is a painter and there's this really cool quote from the book about a painting being more than the sum of it's parts."

"A cow by itself is just a cow, meadow by itself is just grass and flowers and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light but when you put them all together, you create something magical." You recite the quote from the top of your head, having read the book so many times that by now you know it from the front cover to the back. "It's stupid and childish, especially when I say it out loud to someone like this."

You chuckle shyly, "But I guess I just really want to believe that San is more than the sum of his parts. Just like the character from that book. And that night...that night and everything that related to it was a reminder that there might be more to him than he lets on. It's what kept me with him for so long. He has to be more than just a hot, college fuckboy. "

"It might be about wanting something I know I can't have and being stubborn because I hate losing. Sure, San is handsome and everyone wants him but cute guys that have game are a dime a dozen on this campus." You bite your lip, remembering seeing San in the hallway every time you were making your way to the office of the campus president. "But someone who cared that much about what almost happened to a complete stranger that they were so invested in the case until justice was served...you don't find someone like that often."

"And yeah, he was flirting with me that night but I genuinely think that he just played into it because he thought it would make me feel better, at least at the start." You poke your cheek with your tongue. "I don't think that he was trying to get into my pants that night because...he didn't try anything until I initiated it weeks after that."

You're in love with the guy you met freshman year on that balcony after going through something enough to traumatize you and I comforted you.

"I don't even know if what I'm saying is making sense at this point but I just...I just want to believe that he's a really good guy." You whisper, turning to him. "Is that so wrong?"

Wooyoung just keeps staring and you start fidgeting in place, eyes falling away from his because you're scared of what you will see.

"Namhyuk was the first boy I ever kissed." You turn to him in surprise, not expecting to hear that. Wooyoung's eyes aren't wavering. "We went to the same private school. We were drunk when it happened the first time and then it just kept happening when we were sober, as well."

Your mouth is hanging wide open, images of a drunk Namhyuk scaring Wooyoung at that party flashing through your mind and you a feeling of an immense sadness overtakes you.

"Young-ah..." You whisper, finally being hit by just how much his words might've hurt Wooyoung.

Wooyoung just keeps going though.

"I already knew I was gay but he said he wasn't, yet he was always the first one to initiate it and that confused me because I don't think being gay is something bad. I know I just had, like, an existential crisis not even twenty minutes ago but I always say shit like that because it's easier to blame myself, deep down I know there's nothing wrong with me." He pauses, breaking eye contact with you to look down at his half filled glass. "Namhyuk does think it's something bad though, so when I said that I refuse to do anything with him until he figured himself out he got upset and we stopped being friends altogether."

"That night of the party, I saw one of his friends on the lawn in front of the house and that's why I didn't want to go in. Because I knew he'd probably be there as well." Wooyoung shrugs with a light smile but you can tell it's just a way to hide the hurt. "It was the first time I've seen him since we graduated high school."

Its silent in the apartment after he that, both of you just let everything you've said hang in the air.

"It's his loss. He's an asshole anyway." You whisper, hesitantly glancing at Wooyoung because you suck at comforting people but you felt like you had to say something.

"You don't have to do that." Wooyoung chuckles with a headshake, "I know better now than to let someone experiment with me and then go back to his girlfriend."

"Still,...you didn't deserve that." You comment quietly with a one sided shoulder shrug.

"Pft, look at you." He nudges your shoulder with his with a grin. "Are you going soft on me, Park?"

"Shut up." You push him away, pulling a pillow to your chest to have something to hug as your cheeks flush red. It only makes Wooyoung giggle more.

"You're a lot softer than you look, you know?" He adds, voice not louder than a whisper as his grin settled into a small smile. But his eyes were still teasing.

"Whatever." You grumble, although your lips quirk up.

"But, I have to ask..." He drags out, "I know you said he won't sue you and it's been awhile and nothing happened but can you really be that sure?"

With a groan, you sit up and rummage through your bag again to take out your phone. Scrolling through the gallery, you throw the phone in Wooyoung's lap once the photo loads.

"Oh, wow..." Wooyoung stares at the screen with brows raised and mouth slightly hanging open, shocked by the image. And you can't blame him.

You and Jennie were both seventeen. Namhyuk was nineteen.

In the photo, you're glued to Namhyuk's side with his hand keeping your cheek glued to his and both of you wear bright, wide smiles. Jennie is laying across his lap, with her shirt pulled up and on her bare back are little lines of white powder.

You hate looking at that photo.

You were so high that night, you barely remember the party let alone that Namhyuk was at it but the photos you woke up to in the morning were proof that he, certainly, was.

You look so young in the photo, too young to ever be messing around with half of the shit you've done back then.

"It took me awhile to recognize him at that last party but..." You trail off with a nervous chuckle. Wooyoung silently returns the phone to you.

"Was it bad?" He asks quietly and you just look at him, mouth clamped shut. "You know...the drugs stuff."

You give him another chuckle, feeling ashamed at the mere mention of it before nodding your head. "Pretty bad."

Wooyoung seems to be mustering up the courage to gently touch your hand and he looks positively delighted when you don't immediately move away.

✩

"Hey, I have a meeting with my project group so I gotta leave early today."

Your head picks up from your laptop at Hongjoong's words as you watch him pack up his books. Nerves kicking up, you bite your lip as you continue to watch him pull his jacket on.

"O-okay." You nod and he gives you a small smile before going to stand up. "Wait."

Hongjoong turns to you in curiosity, still fiddling with his backpack.

"Are you, uh,...are you sure Mingi will show up?" You ask, trying to seem cool and collected. When in reality, your leg is bouncing up and down from the nerves.

He slows down his movements and counters you with a stare that you haven't yet seen on Hongjoong. It seems calculating.

"Why wouldn't he?"

Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I humiliated his best friend last week, treated her like complete shit and made her cry in front of the whole cafeteria.... And I didn't really make any progress on my assignment.

That's what you'd like to say. But you don't because maybe Hongjoong doesn't know what you've done. Maybe you still have a chance for him to think you're a good person, so instead,

"No reason. I was just wondering..." You trail off, suddenly finding your small pink pencil pouch extremely interesting.

"He'll be here." And with one last look, he is out of his seat and heading towards the library exit.

You sigh, head falling to the open textbook in front of you as your lips fold into a pout. Of course you're fucking nervous about what Mingi will say when he shows up.

He almost ripped you a new asshole just because you snapped a little at his precious best friend that day she bumped into you in the hallway because she's a fucking klutz. God only knows what he's about to throw at you after he finds out what happened last week.

And he'll definitely find out because apparently, everyone and their mothers know that you were playing Regina George and being a complete bitch to sweet little Boyoung in the cafeteria that day.

Looking up at the clock, it says that it's ten minutes past five. Mingi is late.

What if he stands you up?

It's not like you don't deserve it but still, quite embarrassing.

The sound of the main library door opening and closing causes your head to look up and you gulp once you see the tall figure of Song Mingi stalking towards you.

You straighten up in your seat immediately as you try not to stare at him.

Mingi pulls out the chair right next to you without a word and sits down, opening his backpack and pulling out his laptop and notes.

He doesn't even glance at you. So you just sit there in silence as well, all your practice books already prepared and enjoying the smell of his hoodie. It smells like whatever detergent he's using and something citrusy and musky, probably his cologne.

"Did you finish what I told you to last time?" He asks quietly, voice low and distant.

You clear your throat. "I, uh, got an error when I tried to test it and I didn't know how to fix it."

Mingi nods, motioning for you to move your laptop closer to him which you do quietly.

The next two hours feel like you're sitting next to a ticking time bomb. Every mistake you make, even a miniscule movement of yours, feels like it will be the thing to set him off and he'll be yelling at you for what you've done to Boyoung.

But it doesn't happen. Instead, Mingi just quietly fixes your mistakes and gives you tips that you obediently write down.

The suspense is still killing you though. You know he'll say something, he has to because he showed just how much he cared for Boyoung the last time, so it's a little bit frustrating to see him drag it out so much.

He's torturing you.

When he's packing up his stuff, you sit quietly in your seat and decide to bite the bullet.

"I didn't think you'd show up today." You say easily pretending to be unbothered, but the fiddling with your pencil is a dead giveaway. You glance at him.

Mingi stops the process of placing his laptop back into his backpack and turns to look at you as he leans back in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I wouldn't have." He replies with a half shrug, "Hongjoong begged me to."

The pen in your hand freezes mid-air and blood rushes to your face.

Hongjoong knew? He knew and still cared enough to talk Mingi into helping you out? Begged?

Why?

"Now, God knows what Hongjoong has seen in you that he thinks he should do all of that for you," Mingi continues, finger running over the edge of the wooden table, "But he's my friend, so I agreed even though helping you is the last thing I want to do. Which is why I'm not doing it unless you pay me."

"I will pay you." You quickly mutter, sending him a curt glare but saying nothing else because you're cheeks are so red from embarrassment that you don't want to risk it.

You suck in a quick breath when Mingi stays quiet.

"Well?" You ask, motioning for him to keep talking. "You should get the Boyoung stuff off of your chest as well. Just let it all out right now, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can but I don't really have anything to say."

Now it's your time to be confused and maybe even a little bit surprised. Because how the hell does he have nothing to say? When he almost popped a blood vessel over something as minor as calling Boyoung out for when she bumped into you.

"So, you're not angry?" You ask dryly, almost expecting this to be some ploy for him to humiliate you back. You almost take it on yourself to look around and spot Boyoung coming up behind one of the bookshelves to throw a bucket of pig's blood over your head or something.

"I'm not...angry. Just disappointed."  Mingi responds solemnly and you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue again.

"You sound like my dad."  You chuckle with an eye roll.

Somehow you think that you know what Song Mingi is doing. Someone saying they're disappointed in you is always worse than them being angry with you. Even if he's a complete stranger, you hate that he was expecting something more from you despite barely knowing you.

"And you don't even know me..." You continue, eyes coasting over the surface of the table so you don't have to look at him. He's back to packing up his stuff. "So, you don't have a reason to be disappointed."

"That's true." Mingi nods quietly and stands up, throwing his backpack over one shoulder. "I barely know you and yet I still didn't peg you as the type to put down another girl over a guy."

The quiet sigh leaves you before you know it and you watch his back as he disappears through the door.

You start packing up your stuff with a clenched jaw and a refusal to let Mingi get into your head.

You know what you've done was wrong and you might feel bad about it but what's done is done. No use crying over spilled milk now.

Apologizing to Boyoung would happen only over your dead body. It's not in your nature to admit when you're wrong and especially not to offer an apology to a girl who has San.

You hurt her. San hurt you in response to it.

So it's even.

You were left sad, alone and hurt after a year of running after Choi San, embarrassing yourself by having sex with him in dirty public bathrooms, not standing up for yourself when Yeosang made fun of you, allowing San to think you were dumb. All in the hopes of molding yourself into a girl that San would eventually want. That's punishment enough.

Besides, you have enough on your plate as it is, with school, your parents breathing down your back and keeping up with whatever is happening in your shitty group. Especially now, when everyone knows you and San are done for good and that you lost him to Son Boyoung.

✩

The most infuriating part is that they have the balls to rub it in your face.

"I think it's kind of nice that San finally decided to settle down. Don't you, Y/N?"

Jennie was always the ballsier one out of the bunch. Especially when it came to trying to bring you down.

If you actually gave a fuck about her, it would be heartbreaking. Because you made her what she is today.

Before Jennie met you, she was just another kid who's life changed overnight when her father's company hit it big with a single contract. Kids like that never get accepted in the circles of old money. They were too boisterous, with no manners on how they should behave as the upper class and the immediate confidence that, just because they now had money, they were just like the rest of you.

It was no secret to anyone that soon after Jennie got allowed into your circle (thanks to you), she wanted to take your place.

You stare at her, lips quirking up into a faint smirk as your eyes narrow. Your eyes coast over the rest of the girls at your table, none of them say anything in response but a couple of them chuckle under their breath.

Minjeong, sweet little never-minding-her-business Minjeong, scrambles to say something.

"She's not even that pretty." She nervously chuckles, glancing at you and freezing when your eyes meet.

If you weren't at today's brunch, Minjeong would probably be leading the discussion on San dumping you for Boyoung but now that you're here, she loves playing the pacifist because she knows someone will leave crying and embarrassed and it won't be you.

"I mean, I know we both had a thing with him but I, for one, am happy for him." Jennie continues with a pretty and yet fake smile but it's hard to get past the malicious glint in her eyes.

That makes you let out a small laugh, to cover up that your blood is boiling under your skin. The audacity...

She didn't care about San before you started seeing him. And now, she has the nerve to say what you both had with San was the same.

"You should stop right now, if you know what's good for you." You say lightly, smile settling on your lips because you won't show that she has any effect on you. It's always been below you.

Her smile fades a bit and she glances at the rest of the girls, who no longer find her challenging you as something worth giggling over.

And you don't hide the satisfaction on your face over the fact that while they may rise up Jennie to the stars when you're not there- the moment you show up they no longer have her back and leave her to fend for herself. They hate you but they'll never say a word to you to your face.

"Stop what?" Jennie asks, jutting her chin up in, now, fake bravery. There's sounds of cutlery clinking against plates on the table, otherwise it's silence.

"Thinking that you can compete where you don't compare." You daintily wipe the corners of your mouth with a napkin, "So don't for a second think that you and I are the same to anyone. You're still the same tacky little girl that I brought to this table. You should've learned that by now."

You stand up, throwing the napkin to the table and grabbing your purse. Jennie's jaw is clenched and her face is beet red but she keeps her mouth clamped shut as she glares at you. The other girls are staring at you but you don't give them a second glance, instead with your head held high, you walk out of the restaurant.

Being rotten isn't something you enjoy but its the only way to survive.

"Are you free?" You ask after dialing Hongjoong's phone as you sit in your car in front of the restaurant where the brunch was held. You needed to be in his presence for some reason, he was soothing, always knew what to say.

"Uh, yeah? I'm at my apartment." He responds and you can already imagine the confused expression on his face. You've never hung out outside of school hours. Today was a Saturday.

"I'll come pick you up." You say before hanging up.

✩

When Hongjoong sits down in the front seat and you start driving again, you almost let out a laugh. If anyone were to see you two together, they'd probably be confused to the maximum.

Hongjoong with his split dyed hair, old jean jacket and matching jeans that swallow him up. And you, in a black and pink plaid miniskirt, black cropped blazer and stockings with a fucking matching ribbon in your hair. You look like two characters from a 2000's teen movie.

"Where are we going exactly?" You ask, brows pinching as you follow the directions he gives you.

"You'll see." Is all he says before telling you to take a right.

You stop in front of a house with an unkempt front yard and you turn to Hongjoong, who skips out of the car with a hum.

"Uh," You follow after him, slamming the car door shut and locking it before running a bit to catch up with him. "Are you sure we're allowed here?"

"Of course." He says, holding the fence door for you to walk into the yard.

"If you were planning on killing me, there were easier ways."

"I'm not going to kill you, Y/N." Hongjoong sighs and presses the old button of the door bell.

You hike your purse up your shoulder as you observe the old house which is in such bad conditions that you expect it to be abandoned. A thought crosses your mind that makes you blanch out.

"Hongjoong," You start, wrapping your arms around you. "I don't know what you've heard about me but I don't do drugs."

His hands fall out of his pockets and he turns to you with a puzzled expression.

"We're not here to do drugs."

"Well, then why-"

The front door opens revealing a woman in her mid forties. Her hair is long and wrapped up in a bun at the top of her head, she's in oversized clothes with glasses perched up at the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, Hongjoong! It's you!" She answers, almost relieved but then her eyes catch sight of you. "And you brought company?"

"This is the girl I've been telling you about." Hongjoong replies with an easy smile and you turn to him with a confused face.

The lady assesses you from head to toe. "She isn't exactly what I expected...."

"Just let us in." He only chuckles while your jaw is dropped and brows furrowed at her comment.

The inside of the house is significantly better, it's warmer and a lot cleaner. What catches your attention are the numerous paintings stacked up on one another in the hallway as you follow after Hongjoong and walk into an office of some sort.

It's messy but in an organized way, more paintings, sketches and books littering the dark space and you sit down on the chair next to Hongjoong as the lady sits behind the desk.

"So, what can I help you with?" She asks and you're tired of biting your tongue.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" You question with your face tilted to the side.

She glances at Hongjoong before looking at you with an unimpressed face. "I'm Ahn Yejin. I used to teach at your university."

"Professor Ahn, Y/N here has something that I think you'd like." Hongjoong takes over and you turn to him with a glare that's turning murderous. Maybe you'd be the one to kill him.

"You didn't tell me to bring any of my works." You hiss, throwing a quick glance at the lady.

"Oh, please. You carry that thick notebook everywhere with you, where is it?" Your jaw drops for the umpteenth time as Hongjoong grabs your purse from your hold and pulls out the notebook where you draw most of the time.

"That's not..." You try to grab the notebook back but he's already handing it over to the professor, "That's not my actual work. It's just something-"

"Quiet." She interrupts sharply and you instantly shut up. Hongjoong snorts beside you and you throw him another glare.

On other hand...

"No." You talk back, reaching over and taking the notebook from her hands. Hongjoong is looking at you like you're crazy. "I didn't come here for anyone to look at my sketches. I didn't even know where we were going."

You give Hongjoong a sharp look at that.

"You wouldn't have agreed to come otherwise and I knew this was the only way." Hongjoong replies sassily and you roll your eyes.

"Why do you even care so much?" You argue back and he clenches his fists as he gives you a stern glare.

"Because you're work is too good to just sit in that notebook with you hiding it from the rest of the world!"

"And you would know that because you're a professiona-"

"That's why I brought you here, Y/N, so you can talk to a profes-"

"Are you two done?" Professor Ahn interrupts and both of you turn to her with faces flushed from anger. She raises her brows at the silence and your eyes meet. "Do you want me to look at your work or not?"

"I don't have anything against you looking at my works but what I have here is just stupid drawings that I do in my free time. I have paintings I can bring you-" You start.

"Your paintings aren't as good as what you have in there!" Hongjoong interrupts and your jaw drops at the blatant insult as you give him an incredulous look.

"You bit-"

"Enough!" Professor Ahn snaps, "You're both wasting my time here!"

"You!" She looks at Hongjoong with a glare. "For bringing this brat into my office and giving me a headache!"

Then she turns to you with the same pissed off face. "And you! A measly college student who probably thinks her works actually have some substance to them because God knows they feed you that crap at that university because they're forced to fill out the yearly quota. So either show me what you have or get out!"

Your jaw almost reaches the floor at the insult. All you've gotten here since you walked in were insults actually. Hongjoong scrambles to fix the situation once he sees you began to stand up.

"Wait! Wait, Y/N, I'm sorry! Okay? Sorry for not telling you and bringing you here unprepared, okay?" You roll your eyes, looking outside the smudgy window. "Can you please sit down?"

"Professor Ahn didn't mean that."

"I did." You both throw her a glare before Hongjoong looks at you with pleading eyes.

"I just thought she could help you!"

"Help me with what?" You sigh, tiredly because you don't understand what he wants from you. Still, you fall back down on the chair, slouching.

When you called him, you expected to just go grab a coffee or something. Not...this.

"Help you improve your art even more." He says softly and you yield because you can't say no to Hongjoong, you realize.

And because, frankly, you don't have anything against improvement when it comes to your art. It's something precious to you, something you fought very hard for so why would you turn down advice from a professional who was employed at the university you currently attend? Even if it was a bitter, sharp-on-the-tongue professional like Professor Ahn.

You hand your notebook back to her.

She takes it from you, not before giving you another long and unimpressed stare.

You watch her flip through the pages. Drawings of dancing skeletons with Hawaiian skirts and mismatched eyes. Drawings of girls with rusty gears for eyes and smiles made out of nails bent out of shape. Drawings of two sad people twirling on a lonely, steep hill with their hands glued together as one laughs while the other one cries.

You squirm every time Professor Ahn throws a glance in your direction the more she flips through the notebook, her lips pursued.

"Well, these are..." She starts, glancing at you again with brows furrowed but a thoughtful expression on her face, "Well, these are quite good."

Your eyebrows jump a little at that, not expecting it to be the response. Professor Ahn almost looks as if it's painful to compliment you.

"It's not what I expected." She says, pausing at one drawing in particular. "They're dark. Morbid. Wouldn't expect you to have something like this in you."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, not sure how you're supposed to take her words. Was that a compliment?

"Uh, thanks?"

"How would you like to work with me?" Professor Ahn asks, raising her neatly plucked eyebrows as you look at Hongjoong for help.

"I, uh, what would that mean? Working with you?" You ask, feeling like you should have a lawyer with you or something.

"Just bringing me your sketches occasionally so we can look at them and discuss them." She explains, folding her arms in front of her. "I can give you tips to improve. Maybe even get you into some summer programs which could be helpful for you..."

And so you agree. A couple of more minutes of talking and planning until you and Hongjoong say your goodbyes. You hurry out of the makeshift office but not before you hear what Professor Ahn quietly utters to Hongjoong.

"You did good, Hongjoong."

You think about the exchange as you sit in your car and Hongjoong settles into the seat next to you with a content smile.

"See!" He beams, "That wasn't so bad!"

But you're not as amused.

"How do you know her?" You ask lightly, starting the car and driving out of the old street.

"She owns an art gallery and has an art clinic." He explains excitedly, "She hires students who are studying to be future art consultants and managers to help her scout for students with potential."

"Like you?" You ask, eyes not moving from the road. "You want to be an art consultant."

"Yeah." He nods, relaxing in the front seat. "I met her just before I started school here."

He continues to speak about Professor Ahn but you're not listening. There's a numbing buzz in your ear as you continue to drive.

"Yeah!" He nods enthusiastically, a smile stretching across his lips that made his eyes seem smaller. "I'm Hongjoong. I'm a third year."

"Y/N." You reply quietly, still measuring him up and down suspiciously. You've never seen him around here before.

"I know!" You press your lips together. He's probably seen you with San. And everyone and their mothers know Choi San. "I've read about your painting getting displayed for Mrs. Han's exhibition last year. You were the only freshman who got her painting picked."

"You know, I...I hope even after you turn in your Computer Science project the two of us could still hang out like this." He suddenly says, eyes running off to the side almost as if he's shy. He chuckles lightly. "I don't really have many friends here since I just moved this semester but you seem cool, Y/N."

"Is that your new project?" He asks, motioning to your sketchbook in front of you and the drawing on the first page.

"Would you like to meet a professor of mine?"

"Now, God knows what Hongjoong has seen in you that he thinks he should do all of that for you," Mingi continues..

"You did good, Hongjoong."

"-and she has connections all over the world, I mean, she could probably get you into a great program anywhere! Or help more of your works to be displayed at exhibitions..." Hongjoong's voice trails off, probably noticing how you're not nearly as stoked as he is. "Y/N, this is good news, you know? I mean, you're just a second year and you're already set!"

You pull up in front of his apartment complex. He is still looking at you but smile slowly fading once he notices your stoic face.

"Did you only befriend me so you can get me to meet her?" You ask quietly, leaving the car running as you turn to him and watch his face contort into confusion.

"Y/N...I mean, yeah. I saw the article about your painting at Mr. Han's gallery." He says, still lightly and probably thinking that it wasn't a big deal.

And yeah, perhaps it wasn't.

What Hongjoong did was good for you. A little bit scary maybe because you always thought it was a bit too early to start thinking about your career since you were barely in your second year of college but it will definitely be helpful. You should be grateful.

But the childish part of you feels hurt.

For once, you thought you made a friend just for the sake of it. No ulterior motives, nothing they can get out of hanging out with you and no social ladder to climb.

You thought you had a connection with Hongjoong, a genuine one which was something rare and precious to you.

But now, all the time you've spent sitting at that library table seemed just like he did it because he wanted to impress his boss. And that hurts you.

You liked Hongjoong. You thought he was your friend, while you may have not been a good friend to him and only because you don't know how to be a good friend to anyone, you were willing to learn. But now none of it is the same.

"We're in front of your apartment." You say detachedly as you face the front. Hongjoong glances at his building before turning to you confused.

"Wait, what's wrong?" He asks with a concerned expression.

"Nothing." You chuckle but it holds no humor. "I just...I thought I was your friend."

His face turns serious at that, mouth tugging downwards. "You are my friend."

You shake your head, mostly to chase away the tears gathering and he sits up, to look at you properly. "Y/N-"

"Wait, Y/N, you can't seriously be-" Hongjoong tries to smile, probably reason with you that you're being overdramatic but his smile slips when he catches sight of the tears pooling in your eyes. "Y/N,... you're my friend. Of course, you're my friend."

"I don't believe you." It's whispered out as you grace him with a small albeit fake smile. Hongjoong's hand reaches out to you, "You should get out. I have stuff to do."

His hand falls back to his lap and he lets out a small sigh. "Text me when you get home?"

You stay silent, refusing to look at him and without another word, Hongjoong opens the car door and steps out.

You can feel him watching you through the glass window as he closes the door back but you just drive off.

✩

The house is silent once you enter and you heave a sigh of relief to finally have some silence and peace for yourself. Your mother is probably out with her friends, your father is rarely home anyway and your brother...well, you have no idea.

Walking into the huge kitchen, you prepare yourself a quick meal from the left overs from last night's dinner and heat them up before sitting down on behind the counter and slowly digging in. You were still hungry since you barely ate at brunch, not that you would eat a lot there anyway.

As you ate, you couldn't help but think about Hongjoong.

Maybe you overreacted and made him feel guilty for something that really wasn't such a big deal.

But it was a big deal to you and in the moment, your emotions got the best of you as they tend to do.

You let out another quiet sigh as you shove a spoonful of food in your mouth.

Footsteps are heard patting around the house before your brother walks into the kitchen, removing his Airpods.

His cheeks are flushed and shirt damp with sweat so you can only presume he got back from the gym.

You try to focus on the plate in front of you because Seonghwa and you acknowledging each other around the house has went out the window ever since you started college but still, you can't help that your eyes glance up at him as he shuffles around every once in awhile.

He brings out a couple of ingredients out of the fridge and you suppose he starts preparing himself a quick snack. You remain quiet, trying to not make a sound that would piss him off and make him leave sooner that needed.

You missed your older brother so much that even moments like these where you both pretended like the other one didn't exist when you were in the same space alone- was something you cherished. How fucking depressing.

"Did you actually go to Wooyoung's place that day or are you using him as a cover up for that Choi guy you're sleeping with?"

You look up in surprise at...well, a lot of things. First one being that Seonghwa is actually speaking to you and the second one,...he knew about San?

Your mouth is hanging slightly open, brain trying to scramble for something to say.

"How do you know about him?" You ask quietly, playing with the rice on your plate.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and gives you that look. The 'I know everything' look that he used with you ever since you were kids when you would try to hide something from him only to get busted later on.

"So, you are just using Wooyoung?" He avoids your question.

"No, I was at Wooyoung's place." You shrug, taking another bite and chewing slowly as you glance up at him. Seonghwa seems perplexed at the answer.

"You..." He looks around the kitchen, "..are hanging out with Jung Wooyoung? Willingly?"

You snort at that, knowing very well why he's surprised. He always knew you despised Wooyoung from an early age, was even a witness to many spats between Wooyoung and yourself while growing up.

"Yeah." You nod, the corners of your mouth perking up in amusement.

"You nearly threw a plate full of soup at his lap the last time I saw you together." Seonghwa muses, eyes on the fruits that he's cutting up. "And now you expect me to believe that you're...what? Dating him?"

"I'm not dating him." You respond, brimming with some kind of excitement because you think this is the longest conversation you've had with him in awhile. So what if it's about Wooyoung? "We're friends."

"Why?" He prodded, brows pinched in genuine confusion. "What could you possibly gain from him besides making mom and dad think that you're marrying him or something?"

"I'm not trying to gain anything from him." You sigh, thinking how it's sad that the first thing your own brother thinks when you tell him you made a friend is that you're trying to benefit from it. "We just...have a lot in common."

"Huh." Is his response as he prepares his snack and you return back to your food.

No other sound can be heard besides Seonghwa's knife against the cutting board and your spoon scrapping against the bowl. You decide to try.

"Hey, do you...uh...do you wanna watch a movie or something later?" You stammer out and his movements slow down. "I heard about this new thriller that just came out on Netfli-"

"I'm busy." Seonghwa cuts you off, the sharpness that you've grown accustomed to in his voice when he speaks to you is now back and he grabs his bowl before heading out of the kitchen.

"...right." You whisper to yourself as you watch him leave without another word. Your eyes are already watering and drop your spoon down, slumping into the chair.

What a shitty day.

After all the dishes from your meal are placed in the dishwasher, you drag your feet up the stairs and into your bedroom. The door to Seonghwa's room is closed shut.

You switch your outfit for a pair of sweatpants and a soft sweater before braiding your hair and heading into the bathroom to take off your make-up.

You stare at yourself in the mirror as the eyeliner disappears, mascara smudges under your eyes and foundation melts off. All that's left are cracks that are carefully hidden under layers of beauty products to hide who you really are. What you really are.

Rotten.

That familiar itch appears and you need something to numb everything and take the edge away, even for awhile. Your hand almost reaches up, out of habit, to your bathroom cupboard where your meds would usually be. It's empty now but the fact that you've even thought about it is bad enough.

Shaking yourself out of it, you leave the bathroom and plop down on your bed, deciding to scroll through your phone which ends up being an even bigger mistake.

The first thing that you see the moment you open Instagram is a photo of San and Boyoung. They're at Han River, bundled up and arms around each other as they both smile at the camera. San's caption is just a simple red heart.

It almost makes you tip-toe to your mother's bathroom cabinet.

You throw your phone away and instead grab your notebook from your bag and start drawing.

Your bad mood carries on through the weekend where you spend the entire day not leaving your room and it doesn't lessen up on Monday either.

After barely managing to get out of bed, you're in no mood to do your make-up. But since your first class is at noon, your mother is in the kitchen when you try to sneak out and doesn't let you leave the house until you're looking as put together as possible.

That was always your problem.

You liked pretty clothes, you liked dressing up and admiring how certain miniskirts looked on your figure. You didn't like make-up though.

And not in the way that some girls don't like make-up. The 'ugh, it's too much work to do in the morning' or 'I don't like make-up but only because I know the guys I hang out with don't like it'.

You like eye make-up. Experimenting with different shadows, colors and techniques that make your eyes stand out.

It seems kind of annoying, to think so seriously about something as mundane as make-up but sometimes, when you leave your house with a face fully done up- you feel like you're going to die.

You feel the exact opposite of how you're supposed to feel which is pretty.

Instead, you feel disgusting. You feel like you're suffocating. You feel like you're a car crash that people are watching happen in slow motion.

That's how you feel today.

It's only Monday and you already feel like the rest of the week will be as shit as your weekend.

Classes are okay, as they always are. Your professor compliments you in front of the whole class for a painting you submitted last month which is nice, it makes you feel a little bit better.

You eat lunch with the rest of the girls. Jennie is there, giving you a fake smile and everyone pretends like the brunch two days before didn't even happen.

You suppose that they feel at least a little bit satisfaction when you see Boyoung sitting with San, Yeosang and Yunho and looking like she actually belongs there meanwhile you're looking just slightly better than completely miserable.

You took San's words seriously that day when he said to stay out of his life.

It doesn't mean it hurts any less to see him look so happy with someone who's not you. Especially when it's with someone who you never deemed enough to be a threat the first time you saw her.

A part of you deep down, had the expectation that San would never settle down with anyone and that he would just hop from one girl to another without getting into a proper relationship and you would simply outgrow him and get over the fact that he didn't want you like that.

But this...Boyoung. She changed everything.

You catch Yeosang's eye and quickly look away, munching on your salad. Maybe he laughed about it to the rest of the table, how pathetic you are. Or maybe he looked at you with pity.

You don't know and you can't tell which one out of those two options is worse either.

After your last class is over, you find yourself in the library. You have a tutoring session with Mingi in two hours but you came early in hopes of finding Hongjoong. It's a relief to see him sitting in your usual place.

You quietly sit down in your chair and pull your stuff out of your bag. You don't comment on his surprised expression to see you there. You've put him through enough, you think.

"Sorry for the other day." You quietly say, taking a peek at him. "I was being dramatic. I'm thankful that you recommended me to professor Ahn."

"It's okay." He shrugs with a small, sweet smile  and your shoulders relax. "I didn't think through how it might've looked to you."

You nod awkwardly and open your laptop to start working on your assignment. You're too tired for small talk today, so you don't say anything else.

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?" Hongjoong, who has the best ability when it comes to reading other people, asks. And it's asked quietly, not in a mocking manner but just...a question.

"Because, like, I've been thinking about it over the weekend. I always thought you had a bunch of friends so you didn't really care that much about me and you'd be, like, whatever if I stopped hanging out with you." He continues with a small chuckle, "But then you seemed really upset so-...I'm sorry. I'm being rude."

"I don't have a lot of friends." You shrug, not taking your eyes off of the screen even when you feel his eyes on you. "And stop saying I don't care about you because I do. I'm just not...not really good at being a good friend but...I'm working on it."

"I'll be a better friend." You whisper, more to yourself than anything. Something out of determination because you want to be good for him. And Wooyoung. You want to be a good friend to both of them even though you've never been taught how. The only real friend you had was Seonghwa and you managed to fuck up even that.

He's quiet after that and you go back to your work, thinking that the subject is closed. It's only after some time has passed in silence that Hongjoong whispers back;

"You are my friend, Y/N. Don't be doubting that just because of the circumstances over which we became friends."

And somehow, that makes you feel significantly better.

Once Mingi arrives it's a different story. Hongjoong leaves quickly after that and you two are left alone and you're not in the mood to be scolded by Mingi, so you stay as quiet as possible and follow his instructions diligently while trying your hardest to stay focused.

Unfortunately for you, today just ends up being the day when even Song Mingi is more talkative than usual.

"What's got you so down today? Daddy cut off your credit card?" Mingi asks innocently, knowing very well he'll piss you off. You glance at him from the corner of your eye before continuing to type.

"Nope. Credit card is still working." You quip back, sarcasm heavy on your tongue.

He hums lightly, checking your screen before moving your hand away from the mouse and placing his own hand on it.

"You missed another data entry command here." He murmurs and you try not to shiver at his low voice. You were still very much heartbroken and down in the dumps but you were only human so damned be Song Mingi for being so attractive.

You stay quiet as he fixes your mistake before you get back to work.

"You're kinda good at math." Mingi muses next to you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Here we go again...

"I'm not 'kinda' good at math. I'm good at it." You correct snippily. "I won bronze at the Korean Mathematical Olympiad."

"Sure, you did." Mingi snorts, not believing a word of what you just said and you turn to him with your face scrunched up in annoyance.

"I did." You speak through clenched teeth, feeling awfully tired of everyone thinking you're fucking stupid when you're far from it.

"Yeah, okay. I believe you." He says with a short laugh as he keeps staring at your screen and fixing another mistake, not even glancing at you and looking so far from believing you that it makes your hands clench into fists. "You gotta work on making sure your lies are more believable, you know? Like, saying you had all A's in math when you were in high school is okay but saying you even managed to go to the Mathematical Olympiad is a bit of a stretch. You know what I mean? Like, nobody will believe that shit."

He's saying it like he's talking about the weather and you feel your hands relax and all the fight leaves your body.

You were so fucking tired.

What was it exactly about you that made people think you weren't smart? Was it the clothes? The make-up? Was it the way you spoke? The fact that you were pursuing a degree in art?

Didn't people know that some of the most famous painters in history were mathematicians and physicists with brilliant minds? Not that you were claiming you were on Leonardo da Vinci's level, no, you were just claiming you weren't the ditzy character who only had a pretty face and daddy's credit card going for her.

You stare at Mingi for a second longer. Would he doubt what you just said if you looked different than you do? If you weren't wearing the baby blue cropped sweater with a matching plaid high waisted skirt that made you look like you were picked off of the cover of a bubble gum pop K-pop album?

You don't know what it is but you're exhausted from it and it's then that you decide that you won't sit there and take it anymore.

You reach up without a word for your wallet and pull out the cash you had in it, figuring it should be enough for the lessons he gave you so far.

"Here." You state, placing the money on his keyboard and clicking 'save' on your file before closing your laptop shut.

"What's this?" Mingi asks, not moving to take the money only turning to you with a frown.

"It's for the lessons." You answer politely, packing up your stuff. There was only ten minutes left of your tutoring session with him anyway, you can leave earlier.

"You're supposed to give it to me when we're finished with your assignment." Mingi slowly says and even that, he makes sure to explain to you like you're dumb.

"We are finished." You pull on your Burberry coat as you place your things in your bag. "I have to turn it in next week anyway for the first revision so I'll finish it by myself and if I have any problems I'll just ask the professor for help then. I'll tell Hongjoong I don't need any lessons anymore so...you're free."

You give him a small smile before standing up. "See you around."

Mingi watches you move as you place your bag over your shoulder and start walking into the direction of the exit.

"Hey, wait." He quietly calls after you but you don't turn around, just so he won't see that you're close to crying.

Crybaby.

You do cry but it's after you've arrived home and were tucked away safely in the comfort of your bedroom. You're not even sure what you're crying about anymore but the tears are just flowing.

"What's up with her?" You overhear your brother mutter to your mother out in the hallway after you said you'd be skipping dinner tonight when your mother came to call for you.

"Ah, she's in one of her moods again." You can already imagine her waving her hands off at him.

So it's no surprise that Seonghwa bursts into your room after dinner, seemingly angry.

"Are you doing it again?" He asks loudly, hands clenched into fists as he stares at you sitting behind your painting aisle.

"Doing what?" You counter back confusedly, moving away your brush from the canvas to not mess up the painting. A playlist Wooyoung sent you this morning is softly playing in the background.

"Don't act fucking stupid, Y/N! Are you using again?" He's close to yelling now.

You guess it makes sense that he'd be asking that. When you were in high school every time your mother announced you were in 'one of your moods' it just meant that the high from the drugs came crashing down and all you wanted to do was lie in bed...or die. She didn't know what it really was though, just assumed you were being a moody teenager.

"What? No." You shake your head, brows still furrowed and quickly growing even more upset.

Seonghwa stares you up and down. You're sitting on the stool in your old sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt, your hair held back by a hairclip. It might've not been your best look but you didn't think it was so bad that it would make him believe you're doing drugs again.

Quickly, he disappears into your bathroom and you drop your brush down on the little wooden table before you follow after him.

"What are you doing?" You call after him as you watch him rummage through your bathroom cupboards. "There's nothing there, Hwa."

"Don't call me that!" He snaps, pushing past you and continue to go through the drawers of your dresser, kicking clothes and things that get in his way.

"Will you stop this?! I'm gonna call mom!" You yell back, picking up the stuff he throws to the floor during his raid.

"Do a test." He says breathlessly as he hurries out of your room. You stand in your doorway a confused 'what?' falling on your lips quietly before he's stalking back out of the main bathroom and into your bedroom and heading straight to your bathroom attached to it.

"Do a test." He repeats firmer this time, placing the familiar plastic cup on your sink that you assume was the reason he was scavenging through the main bathroom.

"Are you serious right now?" You didn't even know you had these at home. He must've bought them.

"Dead serious." Seonghwa nods at the plastic cup and with tears of embarrassment welling up in your eyes (not like they're getting ready to fall for the umpteenth time today), you walk into the bathroom and grab the cup.

He's in the small entryway that separates your bathroom from the bedroom, turned with his back towards you as you do your business in the bathroom, sniffling occasionally before you pull your sweatpants back up and place the cup quietly on the sink. Seonghwa drops the dip card into the cup and you both stand in front of it in silence as you wait for the results.

"I'm not using again." You break it to him silently. He's quiet for a moment.

"You're a liar, Y/N." He grits out coldly, not even sparing you a glance. "I stopped believing anything you say a long time ago."

You can't exactly blame him, the shame re-surfaces every once in awhile and you doubt being in the bathroom as your little sister pees in a cup is ideal for anyone, so in a way you understand him.

Doesn't mean you're not hurt though.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying as you both observe the card. Not even two minutes pass by and the two lines that you expected from the start- appear.

Negative.

"Get out of my room." You whisper and Seonghwa almost robotically, without a second word or glance towards you, disappears out of the bathroom.

When you hear the door of your bedroom close shut, you allow yourself to cry into your hands.

After the quiet sobs subsided into sniffles, you pick yourself up from the cold bathroom floor and pad back into your bedroom, going under your bed covers. You didn't feel like drawing, or painting. You couldn't even imagine Miguel The Skeleton or what he might be up to nowadays.

You flopped on your back, focusing on the ceiling and hoping that the dots would connect into something but they don't and every image that you conjure feels so forced that you give up with a sigh and just pull the covers all the way up.

Your phone buzzes.

"Hello?" You mumble into the speaker, not even checking who was calling.

"Hey! What's up?" Hongjoong's cheery voice echoes from the other line and you start to think that he has some medical effect on you. Just hearing him is enough for your mood to spike up.

Is this what friends are usually for?

Maybe you should call Wooyoung...but he said he was busy this week since he was preparing for a huge exam and you didn't want to be a bother.

"Uh, nothing. Just...doing school stuff." You fake a small laugh, hoping he doesn't recognize the grogginess in your voice.

"Oh, well, I was calling to ask if you wanted to hang out this Saturday." Hongjoong speaks and you play with your comforter as you listen. "I'm holding a small get-together at my place. It's not anything big or fancy honestly, like, fifteen people tops but you should come!"

"Um," You press your lips together, looking around your room in thought. "Who's gonna be there?"

"Mingi and the rest of my roommates, a couple of people from classes..."

You frown a bit, it seemed like Mingi will be the only familiar face and you don't think you like the sound of that. Usually, you were pretty confident with meeting new people. You knew you were likeable when you put in the effort but what if they already heard about you and hate you?

But still, you promised you'd try to be a good friend and being a good friend means coming to parties that you've been politely invited to, right?

"Okay." You nod and Hongjoong cheers excitedly before you both bid each other goodbyes.

It's just a party, Y/N. How bad could it be?

✩

"Hey, what's up- What are you wearing?" Wooyoung's voice echoes off of the speaker as you place your phone on the dresser so he can catch a full glimpse of you.

It's Saturday, the day of that stupid get-together Hongjoong invited you to and you spent the last hour cruising through your wardrobe to look for a suitable outfit. You put less effort into the outfit for your last year's birthday party  than you did today.

"Is it bad?" You whine giving him a twirl. You were in a pair of beige slacks with a soft white sweater that reached just above your waist.

"I mean...it's bad for you. Why do you even have those pants?" Wooyoung comments with a scrunched up face and your arms drop to your sides in defeat. "You never wear stuff like that, why would you wear it to a party?"

You have the pants because your mother bought them for you two years ago and they've been sitting in your closet ever since.

"I don't know." You grumble, sitting down behind your vanity so he can hear you better, "There's gonna be a lot of people I don't know, I want to make a good impression."

"And you can't make a good impression in what you usually wear?" He questions and you hear crunching sounds in the background and he appears on screen with his mouth full, chewing on something. "You like this Hongjoong guy or something?"

"What?! No!" You scoff, "It's just that...I don't know..."

You know maybe if you spent less time planning your outfits and more time actually sitting in class and paying attention, you wouldn't be failing.

Woah, where did that come from? Those surely aren't the words of Song Mingi and you surely don't care what about he thinks of you. Your subconscious needs to work on itself because you refuse to allow that asshole to get under your skin.

"Tell me..." Wooyoung whines from the other side and you sigh dramatically.

"They're all going to be super smart and I'm scared that they'll look down on me. Or something. I don't know."

"They're gonna look down on you...because you came dressed nicely?" Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow and you groan in response, running a brush through your hair. "Besides, since when did you care what other people think? The last party you went to, you knocked out a football player twice your size."

When you stay silent, a pout etched onto your lips- he continues with a frustrated groan.

"Y/N, for fuck's sake, God gave you a ridiculously pretty face and a hot body, not to play into your assets would be a stupidity! Is that what you wanted? For me to compliment you?!"

"Was it hard?" You ask with a small smirk, feeling strangely comforted to be talking to him.

"Yes! It feels like I just swallowed acid!" He snaps back and you snort.

"But seriously, you're probably gonna be hanging out with a bunch of art nerds the entire night. Get a grip on yourself, like, you're better than being nervous about that. And if they don't like you then fuck 'em! Who cares!"

"I guess..." You murmur, glancing at your reflection in the mirror.

"Now change your outfit, I can't look at you in that bland sweater." He commands, showing another mouthful of chips into his mouth.

"I wish you could come with. I think you'd like Hongjoong." You tell him as you go back to your closet, taking off the sweater and throwing it to the floor as you rummage through your clothes.

"As fun as it would be to watch you quiver in fear around a bunch of geeks, I'll pass, this week beat my ass." Wooyoung sighs and there's some shuffling heard, "I have an episode of How To Get Away With Murder and some takeout just calling my name before I hit the sack."

"I understand." You respond loudly as you pull on your black knee high leather boots with a chunky heel before walking out of the closet and in front of your phone so the front camera can catch your full body.

"How's this?" You ask, giving another twirl.

"That's what I'm talking about! You should burn those pants." Wooyoung hollers from the other line and you roll your eyes despite the small smile rising on your face.

You turn to your full-body mirror, observing yourself.

You're in your Sundown Tripper cardi that fits you like a glove, stopping just above your belly button and accentuating your cleavage with the top button undone, a high waisted black mini skirt that stops mid thigh and black boots that reach your knees.

You smile because the top has all your favorite colors. Hot pink, purple, red and orange.

"I like wearing skirts." You say decidedly, even scolding yourself a little bit for thinking you needed to dress differently to impress anyone.

Skirts looked pretty on you, they fit your figure well and you felt good in them. Such shallow thoughts but what could you do? Everyone was a little bit shallow.

"Okay, good for you and now that this crisis is over, I'm hanging up because my food should be here soon." Wooyoung sings.

"Okay, bye!" You bid before hanging up.

You go to your jewelry box, adding a pair of small, gold hoop earrings and a matching golden necklace. Your make-up was done fairly simple to what you usually do for parties but you were planning on dressing up like you're going on a funeral at the beginning.

Too late to fix now, the eyeliner and glossy lip will just have to do. You add another coat of mascara to your lashes and ultimately starting to feel better once you're all dressed up.

You give the mirror a small smile.

✩

Hongjoong lives in a house not even five minutes away from campus, it's smaller compared to the rest in the street with a pretty and upkept yard.

You pull your baby pink thick coat tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold as you walk up the driveway after making sure your car is locked.

You ring the doorbell and soon enough, a very tipsy Hongjoong greets you at the front door.

"Y/N!" He loudly exclaims that it almost makes you jump in place as a surprised laugh bubbles out of you and you step into his opened arms for a quick hug.

"Hi." You greet him and quickly stabilize him as he stumbles on his own two feet.

"Sorry, sorry! The sangria is already starting to hit. Come on in!" He moves out of the way and you step inside the house.

He leads you through the narrow hallway to the open living room space which is decorated with mismatched furniture and random objects which you would expect college students to own. You fix up your pretty smile as you step inside the room filled with ruckus and laughter already.

"Guys! This is Y/N!" You snort once more at Hongjoong's loud voice, it seemed he was a bit more drunk than he let on.

"Hi." You greet cheerily and everyone lets out their own choruses of 'hey's and hi's with bright smiles that make you feel a little bit more at ease. Despite Wooyoung's words, you were still a little nervous to meet Hongjoong's friends.

"I'll introduce you to everyone later but first let's take off your coat and get you a drink!" Hongjoong sings, already heading into the direction of what you assume is the kitchen talking about guessing what your alcohol is but not before nodding at the girl sitting at the end of the couch, "Dahyun, take care of her will you? Before she runs away."

"On it!" She salutes before giving you a smile, you giggle a little bit before unzipping your coat and sliding it off of yourself.

"Oh, let me take that!" Dahyun offers, taking your coat and disappearing into the hallway before quickly returning.

You sit down on the couch next to her as she ropes you in with questions on how you know Hongjoong.

You don't miss the eyes of the guy sitting on the other end of the couch gliding up and down your body, when his eyes catch yours he's quick to look away and so are you but not before you see the faint blush on his cheeks.

A small smirk rises to your lips.

So you like people looking at you! Big deal! Everyone likes attention from time to time. Especially since you've been recently dumped by the boyfriend-who-was-never-your-boyfriend. So the fact that a good looking guy is ogling you isn't exactly something you will perceive as unwanted.

Hongjoong prances into the living room like a little housewife, carrying a tray of different drinks and placing it down on the old, wooden coffee table.

"Y/N, meet everyone!" And then he starts listing the people sitting on the couch by name. You don't remember half of them but you do remember the name of the guy that was ogling you. His name is Hyunjin.

He gives you a small grin when Hongjoong says his name.

"Aaaaand you already know Mingi!" Hongjoong finishes just as a clueless Mingi walks into the room, carrying two plastic bags filled with liquor.

Mingi looks absolutely lost before he catches sight of you and slightly falters in his footsteps. His lips quirk up in a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

"Hi." You greet politely, not letting your eyes stay on him for a moment too long. No matter how good he looked tonight.

You dumb bitch, stop looking at him!  In your mind, that was how Miss Prudy's voice sounded.

She first appeared on your ceiling after you slept with your cousin's boyfriend, the first time.

Miss Prudy must've been an all-girl's school principal in her past life because she was always buttoned up in a black gown that went from her neck down to her ankles. Mismatched buttons for eyes and lips in the shape of a broken heart. Needles that were jabbed in a heart of her own poking straight through her gown. A tight, neat bun at the top of her head and a permanent scowl aimed at you.

Miss Prudy's biggest achievement was the fact that you didn't fuck your way through half of the college basketball team by now. She took her job, of steering you away from men that would ruin you, very seriously and she also failed at her job most of the time.

Hence, why you didn't see her often.

After making a mistake due to your horny state...you'd just think- Sorry Miss Prudy, I couldn't resist  with this one and keep it moving. Oh well.

But it's not your fault that Mingi looks so delicious in a casual sweater and jeans, hair parted and revealing his forehead for the first time since you've met him.

This really isn't the time to get horny, Park. Because you don't have anyone to call up for sex afterwards, San is gone! Remember?! You can't just hop onto someone else so soon.

And once again (unfortunately) Miss Prudy is right. You even consider listening to her this time around and maybe, you will not have sex with anyone any time soon.

Mingi carries the bags out of the living room and Hongjoong takes up the spotlight, explaining how he hooked you up with Mingi for your Computer Science assignment and making sure to place a huge emphasis on the fact that Mingi is a nerd. You only laugh in response, you're not about to tell Hongjoong now that you decided to quit taking Mingi's lessons.

The drink Hongjoong made you is too strong and you have to drive home afterwards anyway so after only two sips, you walk into the kitchen to look for something non-alcoholic for yourself.

The kitchen is cluttered and old but obviously the residents of this place make it work. You smile at the apron with inappropriate photos printed on it laying on the counter.

In the fridge, you manage to find yourself a can of soda that you decide will be your beverage of choice for the occasion.

"Didn't think I'd see you here tonight." A familiar voice stops you in your tracks as you're halfway out of the kitchen.

Mingi appears out of nowhere and leans on the counter, just a mere couple of feet away from you, nursing a drink in his hand as his eyes dance up and down your figure before they quickly look into your own.

"Hongjoong invited me." You say with your chin held up high, defenses instantly being placed high up, just in case he decides to say something again.  But his eyes on your body...its something different. New.

Get a grip, Park!

He only nods in response, lips pressing together so you can notice his dimples for the first time. God fucking dammit.

You take that as your cue to leave and you move to brush past him but just as you're above to walk away, his hand wraps gently around your elbow and it stops you in your place. You turn to him in confusion.

Mingi moves his hand away quickly, gaze meeting yours as he licks his bottom lip. His eyes drop the contact and move around the empty kitchen as you stare at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Uh, I'm sorr-" Mingi starts.

"Are there any sodas in the fridge?" A new voice interrupts and both of you turn to the source coming from the doorway that connects the kitchen with the living room.

Hyunjin.

He's even prettier up close.

And he only seems to ask you as well, his eyes not straying away from you for a second and seemingly pretending like Mingi isn't even there.

Well, well, well....You could have fun with this.

You shouldn't. Shut up, Miss Prudy.

"I took the last one actually." You wave the can in your hand as continue moving towards the door and just as you're about to pass his tall figure, you peer at him through your lashes with a quick smile, "I don't mind sharing though."

Hyunjin chuckles at that, eyes glued to you and feet following after you like a lost puppy.

"Y/N! Good that you're here, you're picking which game we play tonight!" Hongjoong cheers loudly and the rest of the room cheers as well. You chuckle at his drunken antics, despite your brows knitting in puzzlement.

"You're supposed to pull out a piece of paper to decide from that bowl over there." Hyunjin explains with a charming smile pointing to a bowl his friend was holding out and you only hum in response, not gracing him with a different response as you move to the bowl.

You dip your hand between the folded pieces of paper and pull one out, enjoying the way everyone pays attention to you in anticipation. Unfolding the paper you chuckle.

"Hide and seek." You read what the paper says, showing it to everyone in the room.

"Hide and seek it is!" A girl claps loudly, before pointing at a random guy sitting on the couch. "Minho is the first seeker!"

"Aw, man! How come it's always me?" He whines but still stands up and starts walking to the nearest corner of the room.

"Wait, we're really doing this?" You ask to anybody listening and the people nearest to you nod. Hongjoong is long gone.

"Of course, sweets!" Dahyun giggles, cheeks flushed from alcohol. "You have the entire house at your disposal."

"But I don't know my way around the house." You tell her and she pats your cheek as she coos.

"Well, then you better get a head start because Minho is about to start counting."

You dip out of the living room and by the time you're up the stairs, you can faintly hear Minho starting to count and a flood of footsteps going up and down the house as you all try to find somewhere to hide.

As you have no idea where anything is on the upper floor of the house, you run into the first empty room you find, quietly closing the door behind yourself. You don't bother turning on the light as the street lights shine through the windows and you shuffle into the built in closet, hiding yourself behind a row of jackets and shirts. The smell of the clothes is familiar.

You haven't played hide and seek since you were a child so it was kind of amusing to play it with drunk college students.

Until you hear the door opening and closing and you freeze.

You didn't know if Minho already finished counting, too lost in your thoughts but all you can hear now is footsteps approaching the closet.

You push yourself to the back as much as possible until you hit the wood of the closet. You can see someone standing in front of the closet through the gaps of the french doors and then one side is swung open.

"What are you doing?" You whisper-shout at the very familiar, tall figure that squeezes into the space next to you.

"Shhhh." Mingi moves even further into the closet, his chest almost pressing against yours.

"Don't shush me!" You whisper-yell again. "I was here first. Get out!"

"This is my room, princess." He whispers back, almost yelping as a hanger clutters to the floor. "So suck it up and learn to share."

Hongjoong and Mingi were roommates? Since when? That’s brand new information to you.

"Asshole-" Both of you freeze as you hear the door opening.

You hold your breath as footsteps are heard walking across the floor and Mingi slowly places a hand hand against the wooden board right next to your waist, to keep his stability.

The footsteps go from side of the room to the other and stop for a second by the bed. It seems like Minho himself is a little bit too drunk because he forgets to check the closet, instead, after a couple of more seconds walking around the bedroom, he simply retreats out of the room and closes the door behind himself.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, forehead almost coming in contact with Mingi's chest before you straighten yourself out.

"He went into Hongjoong's room next." Mingi whispers and you look up at him. Minho must've turned on some light, maybe a lamp in the room you were in and forgot to turn it off before he left because there is light seeping through the spaces of the french door.

Your eyes roam over Mingi's face as he concentrates on hearing if Minho found anyone.

He really was quite handsome.

Especially his lips. You think they're his best feature. They were really distracting actually. Pink, plush and so, so inviting.

You wonder how it would feel like-

Y/N, don't do it! I know what you're thinking and do not do it! You could almost hear Miss Prudy's voice as you licked your own lips, Do not kiss this guy! You just got out of one mess-

But Mingi is so close, just a touch away. And he smells so good. And he's so tall and just so fucking sexy.

Y/N, listen to me! You will get hurt agai-

You reach up on your tiptoes but he's so tall that you manage to only catch his lower lip, placing a simple kiss to it. His lips part in surprise as a shaky breath escapes him.

Then, when his eyes meet your own, it dawns onto you what you've just done and your eyes grow wide as saucers.

"Oh my God." You whisper as you move away, completely mortified by your own actions. "I am...I am so, so sorr-"

You don't get to finish your sentence because Mingi's hand comes up to the back of your neck and he leans down, catching your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss.

Mingi kisses you and heat pools low in your belly. His free hand wrapped around yours which gripped his sweater as you pulled him closer, his thumb slowly rubbing the inside of your wrist.

You gasped against his mouth before kissing him again and he makes the softest sound which only makes you melt against him more. He tilts his head to the side, the hand on your neck traveling to your hair as he nudges your mouth open and his tongue meets yours.

Sorry Miss Prudy, you think, I couldn't resist with this one.

#mingi x reader #san x reader #ateez angst #ateez x reader

[shankschewtoy]

Hcs or scenario of Law falling for someone that is exactly like luffy pls & thank u 🙏💕

a/n - omg Luffy gives Law so much stress and anxiety lmao it’d be funny if he had an s/o like that too 😭

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, law having crippling stress and anxiety, I put Luffy in here for no reason 💀

“You’re just like him.”

- It’s no wonder you’re best friends with Luffy-

- you two are so similar it’s crazy

- Luffy’s “friend” suffers from crippling anxiety and stress because of his shenanigans

- But with you, he can KIND OF tolerate you

- he doesn’t know why-

- dw you still give him anxiety 👍

- one (out of the many dumbass moments you’ve had) time you accidentally fell into the super tiny gap between your bed and the wall

- (I did this at 1 in the morning last night 💀)

- You didn’t even know how you fit in there, but the problem was that your limbs were all tangled in the weirdest positions ever

- and my god it hurt

- you managed to call Law since he usually saved your ass when stuff like this happened

- you were practically sounding like you were going to cry over the phone

- So Law immediately ran towards your home, banging down the door and running up the stairs as fast as he could

- He was having a mini heart attack- what if something was really wrong?!

- when he found you, he had the most dead-pan “you’re a dumbass” expression on his face

- mf just started to walk away at that point he’s done- 💀

- “WAIT LAW- PLEASE THIS REALLY HURTS-!”

- he struggled to pull you out since you were literally wedged in the crevice 🗿

- He had to lean all the way back, using his body weight before you finally slipped out

- You managed to fall straight on top of him, and law tried to hide his blushing cheeks 😭

- “get off me y/n.”

- You always had some kind of new scrape or bruise from being clumsy, so Law tried to fix every single thing on you

- he also lectures you 24/7 while knowing you don’t listen to shit he says 💀

- Man wants you to be safe, and worries about you a lot lmao

- also this is just a really dumb moment you had with your bestie Luffy

- you both decided it’d be so fun to try and swim in the ocean during the weekend

- (you both have devil fruit abilities)

- yeah. Guess how that went?

- Mhm. You drowned.

- FORTUNATELY- everyone else decided to tag along, and Law almost immediately saw you both drowning

- emo man can’t swim 🗿 so what’s he gonna do

- yea. PANIC (and shove people in to save you)

- Bitch literally shoved Zoro into the water to save you

- He also shoved in the simp love cook

- When Sanji came back with you in his arms, Law immediately performed a checkup on you, making sure you were breathing and everything

- (Zoro just stepped on Luffy, pushing the water out of his balloon stomach 💀)

——— >

——— >

- Yes, there was a rainbow ✨🌈

- Law was shouting at you for about 45 minutes 😭

- you give this man so much fucking stress and he doesn’t even know why he likes you so much

- he just- does

- He could yell at you over and over again and never get tired of you 🥺

- but still his anxiety got 10x worse once he met you 🗿

- pls stop giving him minor heart attacks

- I don’t think his body can take it anymore 💀

- ALSO- for the scenario, I think that both you and Luffy would be the worst drivers of the year so- yep 👌

—————— >

Scenario - “You’re going to be the death of me….” 💀

(This is a modern scenario :)

Law was silently reading a book, laying on the couch, happily enjoying the peace and quiet in his room. The book was interesting to him, it was one of his favorite comic books after all. Everything was great, it was peaceful, calm, and quiet. Until he heard tires screech outside. He almost threw his book in the air from being spooked like that. He opened the blinds of his room, and he saw you standing outside and waving your arms at his window. You were standing next to a quite- beat up car.. He sighed heavily, looks like his quiet moment was over before it even began.. He reluctantly opened the door, walking outside to meet your smiling face. “Y/n-ya, what are you doing with a car..?” He asked with a tired and confused expression. “I thought we could take it for a drive! Luffy said I’m a good driver.” You said pridefully, smiling up at him brightly. He knew he’d regret his decision.. But how could he say know to that sunshine of a smile you had? “Fine.” He replied quietly, getting into the passenger seat. You looked so happy and excited to show Law your “decent” driving skills.

Hopping into the drivers seat, you made Law had his seatbelt on first! That’s the first thing you learned- “safety first” right? Law sighed, buckling your seatbelt for you, “You have to put on a seatbelt..” He grumbled with an irritated tone. “Whoops.” You replied with a giggle, getting your hands on the wheel with determination and excitement in your eyes. It was almost as if you were sparkling with anticipation. Law found it cute, seeing how excited and determined you were to show him your driving skills.. But he was also holding onto his seatbelt for his life, making sure he wouldn’t fall out of the seat if anything were to happen. “Ok! Ready…? Set. GO!” You said, pressing on the gas pedal with most of your weight. The car wouldn’t move, and you looked so disappointed. Law almost started laughing, “Why won’t it go?!” You shouted, looking around, and tapping different buttons on the car. Law saw your keys sitting on the dashboard, and he sighed with a laugh at how panicked you looked. He grabbed them and started the car engine with the keys, “OHHHHHHH-!” You said with amazed eyes. “Thanks Law!” You shouted happily, now pushing your weight on the gas pedal.

But wait… Why was everything outside of the car moving in front of you? Wait a damn minute. “Y/N-YA YOU’RE ON REVERSE-!” Law yelled, looking behind at the nearing wall that you were about to crash into. “WHAT?!” You screamed, immediately shifting the car out of reverse. You slammed your foot on the brakes, and Law’s head whipped forward with the sudden movement. It made him dizzy, and he almost saw his life flash before his eyes. “Ok… Phew that was kind close haha!” You laughed, wiping the sweat off your forehead with relief. “Y/n. We could’ve fucking died.” He said, grabbing you by your shoulders with wide eyes. “Sorry-!” You replied, stepping on the gas pedal, making Law fly back into his seat. Law’s eyes were wide with worry and anxiety, his body was shaking with stress. “WHOOO HOOOOO!” You screamed excitedly, taking your hands off the wheel and waving them in the air. “HANDS ON THE WHEEL-!” He yelled, slamming your hands back on the steering wheel. You swerved around approaching cars, almost barely escaping a car crash everytime you passed someone. Law reached up, trying to find the hand rest on the side of the door. But it wasn’t there, he fumbled around, trying to frantically grab onto something. “Y/n-ya where’s the hand rest?!” He shouted, clearly panicking. “It broke off last time I crashed!” You replied rather light heartedly. “Last time you wh-?!” He started to shout before you sharply turned to the right, making Law fly around in his seat. The seatbelt almost did nothing for him- but at least there was something keeping him alive. You laughed happily, continuing to speed rather quickly down the roads. “Law isn’t this fun?!” You shouted, looking towards him. Law looked absolutely petrified, he looked like a cat who was desperately clinging onto the door handle for his life.

When he looked forward again, he saw the familiar faces of his friends. Luffy and Zoro were walking across the street, talking and obviously not paying attention. “Y/N STOP STOP STOP-!” He yelled, grabbing your arm tightly. You looked forward and screamed, slamming your hand on the horn. Zoro yelped, looking at the approaching car as he jumped out of the way as fast as he could. Luffy was confused, “Huh?? What are you doing Zoro?!” Luffy shouted, staring at him with a dazed expression. “LUFFY MOVE YOUR ASS!” He yelled, running towards him to try and move him out of the way. You instantly slammed your foot on the brakes, the car skidding as it slowed down. You were going so fast that it was hard for the tires to grab the ground. Law closed his eyes, it was embarrassing how petrified he looked. You cling onto him, wrapping your arms around him tightly while screaming and trying to shove more weight onto the brake pedal. You both closed your eyes, hugging each other and just praying that Luffy would either move, or the car would stop in time. Once you both felt the car stop, you slowly opened your eyes, and to your surprise, Luffy was still standing there. “Huh? OH Y/N HI!” He shouted, jumping up and down while waving his arms excitedly. Law was shaking, his fists clenched so tightly his fingers were turning purple. “You… Are going to be the death of me, y/n.” He said slowly, looking at you with a tired and petrified expression. “Hehe- don’t worry! I won’t let you die!” You replied with a smile. “I MEAN YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S GOING TO KILL ME IDIOT!”

a/n - I love law 😭 and this was the goofiest thing I’ve written today I loved it sm ty for the request anon >:)

<3

#trafalgar d water law #one piece hcs #law x reader #one piece #law one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #luffy one piece #law x y/n #law x you #law headcanons

[cactus-stories]

Hiii I heard u have some sally face brainrot... welcome to the club. Anyways, I was wondering if I could request some sal x reader headcanons where him and the reader were friends before the incident, drifted apart but later reunited and became a couple?? something like that. Thanks !!

Hello, anon! Thanks for welcoming me into the club, and for feeding my brainrot TwT - I really liked your request, and I'm changing some things in the canon after the incident because Sally deserves a happy ending, dammit >:(

I had to explain some things and stuff, but I like how it came out <3 (bestie help I reached the character limit TWICE with this)

TW: cult stuff, character death (Larry), panic attacks briefly mentioned || GN!Reader x Sal Fisher

NEXT PART

BEFORE:

You guys met in high school, a bit after the bologna incident, you were already friends with Larry and the gang, but not nearly as close to them as they were to each other. Honestly you always found the Addison Apartments to be creepy, so you tried not to go there too much.

When Sally moved in and school started again, you went to introduce yourself, noticing the picture of Gizmo he was going to hang on his locker, and complimenting the cat and his taste in bands.

After that you guys ended up talking more, especially because you had English and History together, and lunch period too. A month after that, he invited you to his apartment, to meet his cat in person, and to hang out with him and Larry.

It was then that you found out about everything, the cult, the whole ghosts thing and how lots of stuff was connected. You knew there was something wrong with Nockfell, but not to that degree.

They reassured you that they were taking care of it, and you tried to not freak out the best you could. Your parents didn’t interact with many people in the city, both working in cities nearby, and travelling for work a lot, so you didn’t think they knew about any of that stuff.

You started going to visit more often, meeting Megan and ending up friends with the little ghost, which made you believe everything Sal told you even more, not that you would doubt them, seeing the weird basement was enough to believe every word. She even let you take a picture of her, with the promise that you don’t show it to anyone.

Apart from that, your friendship was really like any other, with you guys spending time playing video games together and listening to metal. You were starting to develop a crush on the blue haired boy, his sense of humour was similar to yours and, despite what people at school said, he was very sweet.

At some point, you started to notice him acting differently around you, he’d stutter a bit if you came too close, and you could swear you saw his ears getting pink whenever you complimented him on anything, be it his clothes or a good grade on a hard test.

His eye would linger on you a bit longer than normal when you guys would hang out, and you started to notice Larry snickering when you passed by them. You both seemed to have feelings for each other, it was only a matter of time before one of you would make a move.

Five months into your friendship, Sally showed you his face. You had never really insisted that he shows it to you, and that’s probably what got him comfortable. You guys were both chilling in his room, Larry was spending the weekend with his mom at his grandma’s house, so you guys were alone.

Sal asked you if it was okay for him to take his mask off, and asked you to look away for a second, before telling you you could look. You just smiled at him and went back to the game you guys were playing, and he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders.

It was a few weeks after finals that you received the news, your parents decided to move to a different city, telling you just as summer vacations started. You had to say goodbye to the gang and, even though you tried to keep in contact, it seemed like none of your letters got to them, always being sent back with the envelope ripped apart.

As time passed, you ended up moving on, finishing high school in your new city and making some new friends. But you never managed to forget your friends in Nockfell, and soon enough, you were starting college.

THE RESOLUTION:

It was a year and a few months after you started college that you saw the news. At first, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Sally was never a bad person, and he wouldn’t do something like that… unless it was absolutely necessary.

You watched the whole trial, and all of the interviews, Sally looked terrible, his voice was rough and he seemed to be on the verge of tears most of the time.

As you watched your high school friend talk about everything that happened, you started to remember it better, and, just as college vacations started, Sal Fisher was declared guilty. They sentenced him to death, and nothing anyone said helped with the case.

Suddenly, you remembered something you’ve never let go of. Something that would definitely prove Sal’s innocence. You searched for the old website listing Megan and her mom’s death, getting as many pictures of the little girl as you could, and started digging around on your own stuff, finding the picture you were looking for.

The old polaroid, a bit faded with time, showed you, Sal and Megan, the little girl smiling excitedly for the picture, at her old apartment at Addison’s. You uploaded it to your computer and your phone, scared that the physical thing would somehow disappear, and headed to Nockfell for the first time in years.

It took you some time to find the exact place he was sent to while he waited for the execution day, but you managed it. You also found Neil’s address, heading there as soon as you could, and telling him you had a way to help. Ash was there too, and she seemed anxious to see you.

you told them about your plan, showing them the picture and earning a gasp from Ash, who hadn’t managed to see any ghosts until then. She mentioned something about Larry and left in a hurry, taking a Sanity’s Fall CD and a record player with her.

She came back hours later, with a picture of a translucent Larry, looking older and more tired than you remembered, before telling you guys about the tree house and how she burned it down.

You guys go to the authorities, showing them the pictures. They try to dismiss you, but the press is still lingering around trying to interview Sally, so they manage to get the pictures from you guys and interview you about it. You say everything you know, showing the pictures and explaining most of it.

It goes live, and so the cult is unable to actually stop you from showing the pictures of Megan, Larry, the cultist space in the basement of Addison’s Apartments, and all you guys learned about this cult. It was very risky, and you knew people from the cult were going to go after you, but you didn’t care about that, you wanted to help Sally out.

People that had weird experiences with the cult, the family of those kids that were killed all those years ago, and a few people from Nockfell, come forward with their experiences, and it ends up working. People that believe in the supernatural start looking into it more, and a second trial is opened after the insistence of the public.

Now, with all the pieces of the puzzle put together, you guys manage to bring to light the whole situation with the cult in Nockfell, and the government can’t ignore it anymore. Sally’s second trial goes smoothly and, after a testimony from Travis as someone from the cult, he’s finally free.

#sally face #sally face headcanons #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #x reader

[flowers-of-io]

6 and 24 for Eris?

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

The anxiety. No, I mean it. Every time Eris talks about the dark thoughts in the back of her mind and the ghosts of the past never going away and always weighing on her soul and recovery is a spiral not a circle and mine is not a final shape and we must accept the darkest part of us instead of running from it, I'm like yea!!! same bestie!!! That passage from Exegete, "I am afraid I am afraid that if I go on I will lose everything I have regained all my peace all my trusts all my hopes", it went so hard I tried writing a song around it. Exegete in particular is such a masterful recount of how thorny and odd recovery is, how once you've achieved any measure of peace you're dead terrified to lose it, how long it takes to heal, how many pitfalls there are on this path and it's so easy to fall into them, how you undoubtedly ARE better and you're like "i'm recovering! :)" but anyone who catches a glimpse of your mental state is like holy shit mate that's dark. My first Destiny fics were about this, because she was such a perfect character to reflect my own turbulent healing process in. That's also why I'm clinging Crow's arc in Season of the Haunted to my chest like a stuffed toy--the concept of needing to accept the darkest part of yourself, even if you hate it, even if you'd prefer to be anything else, it IS a part of you and not some alien body mistakenly attached to you, and you must accept this in order to find peace. I'm still learning that. There's not too much representation of anxiety as this huge, dark and jagged thing; not a panic attack but a monster with empty eyes baring its teeth at you and smiling and you are the monster. Hanging from the precipice and always in the act of losing your grip, always, always, never truly falling. That's how I see Eris' darkness, because that's what mine is. I've pretty much just stuffed her full of my personal demons and keep putting her in situations for the amusement of people on ao3.

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

I could give you a list of characters who remind me of Savathûn or Ikora or Zavala or Drifter but in all honesty I can't find any whom I'd parallel with Eris. Tentatively I could propose Dana Cardinal from WTNV, as a case of tragic narrative foil? Both ventured into the unknown and ended up in a pit of monsters and horror, both were irrevocably changed by the experience, both had to bear responsibility that felt far too great and terrifying for them, but while Eris managed to find a way to turn her plight into strength and went on to achieve some amount of peace, Dana sort of... flickered out under its weight.

#thank u!! #eri-223 #reply #ask game #eris morning #npc talk

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hey! Just recently finished The Great and frankly I’m also upset about Grigor’s relationship between Georgina and Marial, of which I haven’t liked her character since the beginning of the show and can’t seem to fathom why he loves her. Anyways, I can’t seem to find the post where you explain why you don’t like it, and if you haven’t written/posted it, I’d love to see why!

*cracks knuckles*

Hi there! I don't think I made a whole official post about why I don't like it outside of jokes. So let me explain why here. To get one thing over with, it was a personal thing. Gwilym Lee was my celebrity number one husband-boyfriend crush for ages. I began watching The Great for him. And of course I wrote lots of Grigor x reader fics to channel my imagination and lust. So when he became a cheater in season 2, out of nowhere, without any warning...it was a shock. I tried to think through it, justify it, but it never did. It felt like even in my fantasies, I wasn't safe. I wasn't good enough. The minute I slipped up in a romantic relationship, I would be cheated on as punishment. I had panic attacks and couldn't sleep and cried for days. I couldn't even look at the show or images or of Grigor for without crying. It was as if...I was the one cheated on. I literally had to get therapy because it bothered me so much.

Okay, now that this is done, here is my personal take of why Grigor/Marial is bad as a pairing. Also, this is just me being biased and my personal take, so if you ship the pairing...eh, good for you, all the more power to ya. This post isn't for you.

Let's move onto the foundation. I've discussed it a lot with the Queen and legend @ladystrallan but here it is for all y'all. The Big reasons why. Starting with the most important one.

Reason #1) Marial does not actually give a shit about Grigor's well-being and happiness.

Often in fanfics, when Grigor cheats on George, it's because he is sad about George and the OC or Reader or whoever is worried about him. They want him to be happy, wanted, loved, and valued, and chosen. Marial does none of those things. It's never about "how can I help this poor little meow meow feel better?" It's about "what can he do for me" like she's the damn rat from Charlotte's Web.

Reason #2) Marial does not respect Grigor

If Marial did respect Grigor, she would listen to what he says. She would not blab to Catherine about Peter having sex with and accidentally killing her mother. In season 3, when Peter dies- Grigor is sobbing and in a grieving state for his best friend. Marial on the other hand is celebrating his death like the munchkins celebrating a house dropping on the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz. Let's put it this way- if someone who you loved, someone you were very close to dropped dead out of nowhere, would you want to date someone who celebrated the death as good thing? No. If she did respect him, she would support him in his grief. She would keep her trap shut. Even if she personally didn't like Peter...she would still be there for Grigor's struggle of losing his friend. At the end of the day...Marial will betray her bestie to become a lady again. She is only on her own side and no one else's. She gets some Pet The Dog moments with the serfs...but not with anyone else she has interpersonal connections with at court.

Reason #3) The Affair is selfish.

Marial does none of these things. She starts the affair not because she is worried about his well-being, or happiness, or respect or selflessly genuinely loves him...she starts it because 1) he was a former fling, 2) she is rich again and she can, and 3) to spite Georgiana. Grigor kind of wants to feel happy and alive again- but it's bc George is away from him!

I understand that fiction is not reality. We can use fiction to discuss taboo things. Or even admit that we fantasize about things we know are ethically wrong. It says nothing about us. Just because we fantasize it or like it in fiction doesn't mean we like it in real life. But...

Reason #4) The Writers paint Georgiana's affair as bad and Grigor's affair as good.

We have all of season one to see how much it hurts Grigor to see his wife be Peter's mistress. And I'm not going to pretend it is entirely good. But Georgiana does get a few lines in season 1 after the poisoning that she kind of...HAS to be Peter's mistress. That their high social standing and wealth comes from their close friendship with Peter that in no ways should be tampered with. And this includes the complete lack of boundaries with Georgiana, because he is the absolute ruler emperor. Like that line in Six The Musical- If Peter says it's you, it's you. As far as I know, Peter and Georgiana is consensual other than the implied power balance and she's lucky she likes Peter and he's a good lover. In fact, back in the day, men WOULD offer their wives as missteress to the king because you could get a huge castle and lots of lands and money from it! That's what Mary Boleyn's husband thought when Henry VIII made her his mistress. You don't technically have a choice- might as well make the most out of it.

Yet the writer(s) paint Georgiana as bad and frame Marial as good, as something that Grigor needs to heal (it ain't), that she is his true love (blech) all without taking a big look in the mirror. They don't know how to handle a complex woman as Georgiana but they think framing Marial as a girlboss makes it better (yuck).

On a related note...imagine if we switched the genders? If Grigor was Georgette and Marial was Mark, we have Georgette being lonely and swept up in her exes charms. Giving everything to Mark, even when he crosses her personal boundaries. Despite this, she keeps running back to him, swearing she'll marry him even though he hates her recently dead bestie and doesn't comfort or support her mourning.

If that was the case, there would be riots! People would be all "omg you deserve better! My poor baby! Dump his ass, queen!" But...no. Since we have Miss GirlBoss (tm) Marial, this toxicity is apparently okay.

Reason #5) Grigor's love and loyalty to his wife was part of what made his character so endearing in the first place.

It's like if Peter said "fudge" instead of "fuck," but we all fell in love with Count Dymov because he loved his wife so much. That is why there are so many Grigor fics out there. Becuase the depth of love he has not only for Peter...but for Georgiana. It's not the issue that his honor as a man is insulted to have his wife sleep around...it's because he is genuinely heartbroken and sad about it. That he loves her that much. And that he loves Peter that much too. He's crying when he tries to put a pillow over Peter's face to suffocate him. In fact, Georgiana does care about his well being despite the whole mistress stuff. When he gets scruff out of rebellion, she knocks him out and tenderly gives him a shave. They tease and flirt with each other. She sits on his lap. Who wouldn't want a relationship where you are that wanted, adored, and unconditionally loved? In fact, their only conflict was Peter. If it wasn't for Peter, they would have an idyllic, wonderful marriage. Look up The Great on TV Tropes- they are listed as "Happily Married."

So him having an affair on Georgiana, to where he is given an option to KILL GEORGIANA and abandon her for Marial felt egregiously out of character.

This is not why i signed up. I wanted him and Georgiana to heal and grow and triumph in their love, especially as the series went on and Peter focused more on his romantic relationship with Catherine to where that WAS the show.

So yeah...those are my two cents.

#the great #the great hulu #tw: cheating #grigor dymov #georgiana dymov #the great tv show #gwilym lee #phoebe fox #charity wakefield #anti marial/girogr #or #anti marial/grigor

[boston-babies]

About last night..

A/n: wrote this last night because I couldn’t sleep😂 it’s a peek into what mama and Chris got up to last night with no kids in the house

You were in the kitchen, finishing up washing the last dish from dinner. Tanner had tried to help but you told her to not worry about it. She called you a stubborn ass and you told her to go be productive some where else. “You know something y/n? You’re lucky we’re besties and that I love you” you laughed “Til the end of the line right?” She laughed and jokingly rolled her eyes “punk” “jerk”. You both broke out into a fit of laughter when Chris walked in the kitchen “what’s going on in here?”

Tanner crossed her arms “something you want Christopher?” He sighed “how long is it going to take for you to forgive me Tan?” Tanner gave him a condescending smile “when hell freezes over” She looked at you “I’m gonna go find Henry” she gave you a big hug “sleep good” you nodded “you too” She walked past Chris and he called after her “good night Tanner” “Bite me Evans” He nodded and walked further into the kitchen and leaned against the island “at least she’s speaking to me”

You laughed and shook your head “give her time, she’ll come around” you crossed your arms and leaned back against the counter. You both were silent for a moment until Chris spoke up “so for once we have absolutely no kids in the house..” you nodded “I almost forgot what hearing my own thoughts could be like” He laughed and stood up straight “why don’t we take advantage of being alone?” You shrugged “we could watch a movie” he nodded “we could” he walked around the island and stood directly in front of you “or..” he put his hands on your hips and slowly pulled you in “we could do this”

He leaned down and kissed you. It started off slow; sweet and gentle. Soon becoming more heated as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you up and turned to set you down on the island. He stood between your legs and pulled away for a brief moment and bumped his nose with yours playfully “I love you pretty bird” He pulled you back into the kiss and soon started trailing his kisses to your neck. You’re not exactly sure why but panic started setting in. Your breath quickened and your heart started racing and beating painfully hard. “Stop-Chris, stop, stop, stop!”

He was quick to pull away and held his hands up and he looked worried “what’s wrong?” You went completely silent but he could see the panic attack completely taking over you. He nodded “alright honey, breathe for me. It’s okay. I’m gonna hug you, okay?” You nodded and he pulled you in. He held you tight and gently rocked you “it’s okay pretty bird, you’re okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me honey” you took a deep breath and he rubbed your back “that’s it, good girl”.

You both stayed that way for a long while until he felt you finally calm down. He pulled away and cupped your face in both hands “better?” You nodded “I’m sorry Chris..” he shook his head “no, you have nothing to be sorry for okay?” You nodded “I’m just not ready yet, I thought maybe I was ready..” he nodded “and that’s perfectly fine pretty bird” He kissed your forehead “why don’t we just go to bed and get some sleep?” You nodded and he helped you get down from the counter. You hugged him tight “I love you, so much..” he hugged you back and rested his chin on top of your head “I love you too pretty bird”

[f1-disaster-bi]

It will be lando having panic attacks when he realizes he is second driver. those team orders with all of his errors and a rookie picking up the win he choked away confirm it. this is oscar's team now. lando is going to play second fiddle to him and retire with a lifelong record for most points without a win because he doesn't have the mentality to win in f1. a rookie has more mental composure then that fraud.

Awww does someone need a nap time? You sound a little cranky anon

Do you need a snickers bar? Because honestly with a take like that you need a nap time and some nutrition to get the blood flowing to the brain again bestie

Lando's had one bad weekend, and even with that, the man got two podiums. He has been carrying the team for a while now, even sacrificing data to help Oscar and his own times earlier in the year for the development of the car. I don't think he has to worry about anything right now other than cashing a nice check at the end of the year and enjoying his life.

I do suggest you get some help because if you're this mad over a driver, and willing to tear down someone who openly talks about mental health instead of silently struggling and tries to get conversations going to help others....I pity you. You must be going through a hard time. I get it. Mental health struggles are real.

I wish you nothing but the best anon. I hope you get some help, I hope you grow into a happy person, and I hope you heal from whatever wound you have internally that is making you lash out at me and others

Here's to healing anon ❤️

#relax bestie #youll feel better once you sleep #and get something to eat and drink

[acciokaidanalenko]

Hardest goodbye sounds so sad! Or you can talk about our collab? 😏

WIP Title Game

BESTIE! I HAD TO EDIT MY POST BECAUSE I FORGOT OUR COLLAB SOMEHOW!!!!!! How could I? *sobs* please forgive me! 💜I'll share a snippet from Ch. 1 since there's no spoilers there 😉

A feeling of acute panic and concern pushed into her consciousness, further distracting her from the beacon. Her fingers began to fumble. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, flinching again as another explosion sounded from the command deck above. She calmed herself and tried to project that feeling outward, toward the person standing behind her. Without turning around, she could imagine the look on his face. Probably the same expression he’d worn when she’d returned to the bomb site on Virmire. Barely contained terror of what was about to happen, fear of everything they were about to lose, and knowing everything was about to change irrevocably. “You know I can feel you just standing there, right?” Natasha asked through the linked comm system of their suits. He stood just behind her, probably too close. She couldn’t care about that right now. The rest of the crew had been ordered to abandon ship. There was no hope that the Normandy would survive this attack. There were bigger concerns than why the staff lieutenant was standing a little too close to the commander. She finally turned away from the beacon, feeling a fresh wave of panic wash over her as she met his gaze through the glass of their helmets. She tried to counter it with her own sense of forced calm, placing her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to strengthen their connection. She focused on the way she’d felt when she’d fallen asleep beside him sometime in the late hours of the night, how the sound of his slowly beating heart had relaxed her and helped her drift off to sleep. The wildness in his eyes seemed to fade as he looked at her, and faint wrinkles gathered at the edges of his eyes as he smiled at her, though it was hidden by his helmet. “What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be helping the crew get to the escape pods, and I have to get this beacon-” “Joker’s refusing to leave his post. Figured you’re the only one on board that’ll be able to get through to him,” Kaidan reported with a slight hint of amusement. Truthfully, Natasha was likely the only person in the galaxy Jeff would listen to. “Why am I not surprised?” Natasha asked sarcastically. “And of course this stupid thing won’t take the command codes.” She let out a frustrated sigh and nodded her head toward the distress beacon. Another loud burst from above made them both flinch involuntarily. Kaidan seemed suddenly overcome with a sense of urgency. “Let me do it, Nat. That should’ve been the plan to begin with. We both know you’re hopeless when it comes to tech,” he replied as he placed his hand on her shoulder. They lingered together for just a second, one hand on the other’s shoulder, holding the gaze of the other through the glass as if their very lives depended on this singular moment. Natasha couldn’t help but think of their last private moments in her quarters this morning, kissing him softly before they both snuck out and went their separate ways. Kaidan’s hand gently pressed against her, pushing her aside as he moved to take her place in front of the beacon. As he’d spoken, his voice had been low and steady. Clearly her attempts to calm him had worked.

#wip title game #commander shepard #commander natasha shepard #kaidan alenko #shenko #nat & rose au #thanks for the ask! #britt answers #britt writes #fanfic writing #mass effect

[pattysplaceofplaces]

When You Don’t Feel Safe Hc’s 

[Author’s Note: Hey besties! Sorry if my writings have been short or are filled with grammar and spelling errors. This is something I need right now and I hope this can help other people. Much love!]

These can be seen as platonic or romantic

Carmen: 

She understands the feeling. She has a huge criminal empire who would do just about anything to see her dead. It’s not fun dealing with nightmares, paranoia, anxiety, the whole shebang. 

Keeps a small fidget toy or mini plushy in her pocket just in case you need it. If she’s going on a trip with you, you bet she brings the noise canceling headphones.

Will hold your hand or let you hide in her coat if you ask. 

Knows you well enough to know what to ask and what not ask. She may distract you by bringing up something you’re passionate about like your most recent hyper fixation. She might even do something intentionally silly just to make you laugh. 

Also has a little notebook with her so you can write down your feelings if your panic attacks make you mute or choke you up. 

She’ll even write back so you don’t have to feel embarrassed.

Zach:

You don’t have to tell him why you’re upset he’s ready to beat someone up. 

Won’t leave you alone until you feel better again, he will literally stand outside your door like some sort of bouncer. 

“Sorry but Y/n isn’t feeling too well and I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

“It’s just me, ya big doofus. Let me see them.” 

He will try his best to cheer you up.

If you you’re anxious to get outside then you two can marathon a show or movie you two have already watched so you don’t have to worry about paying attention. He will make or buy the best snacks for the both of you as well as make a huge pile of blankets, pillows, plushies. 

If you don’t mind going outside he’ll take you for a long drive in the middle of nowhere so you can vent out all of your negative thoughts. 

Or you can just listen to music while he drives around.

Ivy:

She understands if you need some time alone and understands if your panic attacks make you mute and doesn’t mind just sitting with you in silence.

Although if someone is bothering you point them out. She used to protect her brother from the bullies all the time when they were younger so she has some experience.

She’s fine if you don’t tell her what’s wrong although she’ll spend her whole day worrying about it so it’s best to just tell her so she’s not suspicious of everything. 

Tends to have a calm front when helping you although she’s scared she can’t help you or isn’t enough.

It’s okay Ivy, you’re doing great. 

She will call someone out if they don’t realize they are hurting you. 

“Do ya mind? They said they didn’t want to talk about it, so mind your own business or take a hike!”

Player:

He’s not the best with comforting people but he tries. 

Will make you hot chocolate and wrap you up in a blanket burrito.

You could sit on his bed and watch him play video games. He’ll even make the character do silly things to hopefully make you laugh. 

He might take away your phone because it’s hard to stay away from it even if it is causing problems. 

Will try to get you to sleep.

If someone is bothering you they are gonna be hacked beyond repair.

ShadowSan:

Ready to murder someone. Give him a name and a location and they will not bother you again. 

He’s also not the best when it comes to comforting people, it’s very awkward.

He’ll tell you some stories if it will make you feel better. Japanese myths, actual historical events, or his own personal stories. 

I headcanon he has a pretty good singing voice so he can to you while gently playing with your hair. It’s hella awkward at first but he gets into it. 

If you fall asleep on top of him he will not move until you wake up. It doesn’t matter if the world outside is falling apart he will he just be reading while you are peacefully napping. 

He’s worried you aren’t eating or drinking enough water so he’s gonna cook you so yummy yet healthy food.

[Author’s Note: May write a continuation for more cs characters. If you have anyway you want to see you can request as always!]

#Carmen Sandiego #carmen sandeigo 2019 #Carmen Sandiego headcanons #Comfort #Comfort characters #Zach #Ivy #Player #Shadowsan #A bit personal I apologize

[yeahthatwouldbedark]

Yen per second

tropes: death trope, friends to lovers (if you have won a golden medal in squinting really hard), rivals to lovers, bully romance bestie, college au, friends with benefits, Oikawa and reader have known each other since childhood.

trigger warnings (for the entire series): child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, bullying, depression, child neglect, terminal illness at some point, broken home, mental breakdowns, panic attacks, anxiety, death, injuries (Oikawa’s bad knee for example), substance abuse. 

Chapter 4 

11.4k words 

November the 18th

Mom: Tooru (3:32 PM)

Mom: Were you home last night (3:32 PM)

The moment that the door to his childhood home had clicked shut, Tooru knew he would wake to the sound of her notification or at the very least find her message etched on his phone screen, a reminder of his rudeness this morning past. Yet those moments before he submitted, allowed slumber to take over, in those moments when he’d resembled an autumn leaf hanging on to the withy by some last, dwindling delusion, he hoped his mother would regard his stealing-away-into-the-night as no more than a game of ‘hide and seek’. Because Tooru is her boy, and he would never want to hurt her. Because he will never again be unkind.

So, he attempts to rub the drowsiness out of his system with the sweaty heel of his palm and replies to his mom’s text.

Tooru: I didn’t want to wake you up :D (3:37 PM)

Tooru: there was just something I had to pick up (3:37 PM)

Tooru: nothing important though, so you don’t need to worry (3:39 PM)

The reply isn’t instantaneous by any means. Wishing, even dreading such a thing, would be irrational, almost ignorant if you take into consideration the stretched hours of work his mother has subjected herself to for years in order to one-up his father in terms of providing a comfortable lifestyle for his older sister and him. Tooru is all too aware of this, so he waits; curled up in his bed for his lethargy overwhelms his drive, his brown locks obscuring his view of the dim furniture on which the muted sunlight has applied an almost sympathetic touch, just enough not to leave him in the dark.

His mother’s answer arrives in the form of a phone call, which he would usually welcome with the joy of a child receiving his allowance of the month. At this very moment, however, it startles him. Tooru almost flings the phone across the room. He fights the urge to shove it under the pillow, anything to tune out its incessant, nerve-abrasing ringing.

His actual reaction? You guessed it, reader. He picks up, breathing in deeply and exhaling before doing so.

“Why are you lying to mom, Tooru?”

It is the first time in months that he hears her speak, months fled by with bits and pieces of conversation interspersed throughout days of him being too worn out by college and volleyball practice to respond, and the reaction he has managed to elicit is that of disappointment. No… that is not quite right. Betrayal. Yes, Tooru understands all at once, it is betrayal she feels. 

He tries to speak, the corners of his mouth tilting in a grin he hopes is conveyed through his speech.

“I have no idea what you’re-

“Talking about?” His mother sighs and it’s enough to shut him up. “Tooru, it can’t have been something not important enough if you drove all the way from Tokyo to find it wherever you’d left it.”

Tooru finds himself becoming frustrated. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, mom.”

His mom huffs and after a beat of uneasy silence, speaks again.

“If you really don’t want to tell me, then fine, I won’t pressure you. But at least-” Something falls to the floor with a clang on the other side of the line and Tooru cringes at the sudden noise while his mom mutters multiple profanities at the inconvenience. Still, she resumes the conversation, “At least tell me how you’ve been.”

He thinks on it for a moment. How has he been? He doesn’t have an emotion to stamp on his daily life, only events that come and go more often than the commercials on his TV screen as he stares at it without actually following the events of the movie playing. It’s one stepping-stone after another. It’s just that, no matter how many he hops on, mistakes and reminders of said mistakes intervene and always surpass him, and Tooru is beginning to realize that he has become merely a spectator of the actions he performs. He doesn’t feel them, doesn’t perceive their significance. So, he carries on, leaping from one event to another, with no hope of improvement but not truly without it either.

“Old man asked about Sayako-nee.” He says at last, and he doubts his mother misses the way he evades the core of the question.

His mom speaks again, though the words come out slower than before, “What did he say?”

“Same thing as always.” Tooru rises from the bed and begins to draw the curtains in order to let sunlight in because he refuses to acknowledge the fact that he now can’t support the mere thought of being washed by sunlight, “Wants me to help him reconnect with Sayako-nee. Well, more like he wants me to force her to talk to him again. I don’t think he realizes-

“Tooru be nice to your sister.”

It’s abrupt, the way she cautions him against the bitter treatment towards his little sister. It’s been that way for over a year now, but it’s always been expressed in more subtle tones, the edges of concern always smoothed down so that Tooru, the main villain of his and other people’s stories, can feel less demonized by his own mother. It’s pathetic and humiliating and it makes him want to drag his minute progress to ruins.

“Please, Tooru, listen to mom. Don’t be cruel to her.” She continues with urgency and he craves the feeling of the neck of a bottle in his grasp, “She’s innocent in all this, as are you and Sayako. Promise your mom you won’t take it out on her.”

He doesn’t respond. Is there anything to respond to? If so, he fails to perceive it. Perhaps his drowsiness is to blame, or the alcohol, or the front door that won’t stop ringing. He doesn’t know what to put an end to first; the outside world or whatever he harbors within.

“Tooru are you-

He interrupts just as she did a few minutes ago. “Does it ever anger you to see them enjoy what you never got to have because of them?”

“It does.” She answers after exhaling audibly. “Tooru, baby, are you mad?”

“No.” He says and stares outside the glass door that leads to his balcony, “Why would I be?”

“Tooru, mom is-

“Sorry, mom,” He cuts her off before she can glimpse further into what is crooked inside him, “I have to answer the door. Talk to you later.”

He doesn’t close the curtains, the resilience of his self-denial being too great a force to squander. Yet, subconsciously, he turns his back to it as he makes for the door of his bedroom. Every step he takes across the spacious living room warmed only by the air conditioner that never gets a moment’s respite and towards the hallway that leads to the front door of his penthouse, is mechanical in some peculiar way. He figures it must be because he has yet to stretch and get his body ready for the day ahead (he has no desire to do so).

Bullshit. There is no denying the heavy feeling in his chest, the one he’s always burdened by when another wrong of his past is brought to his attention. Tooru feels it make a home in his chest.

He pauses before unlocking the door.

“You damn trash,” His best friend says, “Took you long enough.”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru’s voice is muffled by the palms on which he’s propped up his chin and the tips of the pinkies he’s subconsciously inserted in his mouth due to self-doubt, “Do you think I’ll be the best setter in Japan one day?”

Iwaizumi, who’s been munching on his pork bun for some time now, glances at him out of the corner of his eye before resting his eyes on the sunset that spreads across the sky like the flames of the fire him and his friends have made. He barks something at Mattsun and Maki, who have been fooling around since school ended and up until now.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you?” He responds without looking Tooru in the eye, swallowing what’s left of the pork bun, “You’re hard-working, resilient, and intelligent.”

Tooru decides to tease him by placing his elbow on his best friend’s shoulder.

“Iwa-chan are you in love with me?” He whispers and pokes the boy in the ribs. The latter chokes, “Well, are you?”

“You bastard!” His attempt to yell is made impossible by the coughing fit that has overcome him. He still manages to slap a laughing Tooru on the back of his head though, “I knew it was a bad move to be nice to you!”

Tooru rubs the spot and whines, “Why are you always so mean to me?!”

Iwaizumi stops punching himself in the chest and looks his best friend dead in the eye.

“Do you deserve my kindness, Oikawa?” Is the question, the answer to which Tooru did not know then, “Anyone’s kindness?”

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Says Tooru in greeting, and opens the door wider to let him in, “What brings you here?”

“Myself.” Iwaizumi says simply as he waits for Tooru to lead him to the living room. “I’ve come for purely selfish reasons.”

Tooru feels like laughing, truly. And he does, though somewhat mockingly.

“You?” He throws his arm around his friend’s shoulders, “Selfish? A paradox if I ever heard one. Now tell me why you’re truly here?”

“I wasn’t lying. Selfish reasons.” Iwaizumi asserts and sets his duffel bag down between the sofa and the low table before it before taking a seat himself. “Wanted to see if trash like you is still alive and kicking.”

Tooru rolls his eyes and sits to the other man’s right. “It’s not like I dropped off the face of the earth.”

It’s in the silence that follows that Tooru remembers to take in his friend’s appearance. No significant alteration has been made to Iwaizumi’s manner of dress, with the exception of the watch that Tooru gifted him before he departed for Tokyo and the slightly shorter haircut. Garments, however, were never the subject of Iwaizumi’s undivided attention and care, his outfit consisting of a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and a midnight blue baseball jacket.

“You have a tendency to adopt traits of those you admire… or care about.” Iwaizumi says, “But maybe I was wrong in thinking you give a shit-

Tooru smiles with a sigh and plants his elbows on his knees in order to support his chin on his palms. “How I’ve missed your deprecating remarks at 10 in the morning, Iwa-chan”

“You reek of alcohol.”

Alarms sound off in Tooru’s head. It’s all he can do to keep himself from bolting out of his own house, all so he can vanish from his friend’s vicinity. But he’s Oikawa Tooru so he has to maintain some semblance of composure lest he gives away the disgraceful turn that his life has taken.

“Yeah, it was Kuroo’s birthday last night.” He says with a laugh, the insincerity of which grates even my ears, “Got high as a kite, totally munted.”

Iwaizumi cages his head within his open palms and mutters, “For fucks sake…”

“Huh?!” He turns to his right, partly in mock indignation, partly because he’s genuinely scared. “What did I do this time?!”

Now it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to pivot and cremate him with all the rage that he’s been storing for years.

“At what point did you start considering me a stupid fucker, Oikawa?” He barks and grabs Tooru by the front of his shirt. “Did you think I wouldn’t eventually notice how you drink your ass stupid until you can’t tell up from down?”

Tooru looks down at his wrinkled shirt. Only now is he beginning to understand how cold it is outside the layers of blankets, and he wishes he’d never forsaken that sanctuary for the sake of a call he hadn’t wanted to take. He should have remained where he can’t be seen, where he doesn’t have to carry layers upon layers to feel secure in himself, safe from himself.

Gently he frees himself from Iwaizumi’s grasp and makes for the kitchen. Maybe if he feeds Iwaizumi some of the food that his housekeeper has prepared for him, the man’s anger will cool down to slight frustration.

“It’s not like I do it every day, you know?”

His words are spoken just so that the man doesn’t accuse him of running away. He’s rummaging the fridge for the pickled radish when he hears Iwaizumi’s footsteps approaching like a battalion of soldiers charging at the enemy.

“How dare you lie to me you fucking bastard?”

Tooru slams the door of the fridge close. Its contents clatter inside, probably the seven cans of beer he’d saved for later this evening.

“No, how dare you talk to me like this in my own house?!” He’s about to cry and he hopes it’s only his anger and cruelty that his friend can see, none of the despair, “If you’re so observant then how come you never said a word about it to me or my mom or anyone who could’ve given a shit?!”

“Why do you think I’m here, Oikawa!”

“I don’t fucking know!”

Iwaizumi leans against the counter. Tooru realizes he’s been slamming his palms against the fridge the entire time he’s been yelling.

“Mattsun and Maki would have come here themselves if I hadn’t told them ‘It’s fine, I’ll make things right with the dumbass.’. So, I’m asking you again.” His glare is more than Tooru can take so he looks anywhere but the man a few feet from him. “What do you think I’m doing here, Oikawa?”

Tooru reclines his head against the fridge. “Iwa-chan.”

The word is spoken softly, though he didn’t intend for it to be gentle in the least. But now that it’s done, now that Iwaizumi looks taken aback, he has no choice but to roll with it.

“I’m fine, you know?” He smiles and drums his fingers against the metallic surface, like a crutch to whatever reality he’s part of, “I don’t drink as excessively as I used to. I’m also seeing a therapist for everything in me that needs fixing. So, you don’t have to burden yourself with thoughts of me.”

He expects a retort, an injurious punch to the ribs, or a slap against the nape of his neck. He expects punishment for deceit but it doesn’t come.

“Alright, then,” Iwaizumi says instead, marching towards the living room. “Keep lying to me.”

Tooru watches him sling his duffel bag across his shoulder. He hears the door slam. Should he be ashamed of the relief that inundates his chest the instant that the front door clicks shut? Perhaps. Definitely. He waits for it, you know. He waits but all that greets him is regret. He knows he’s laid waste to an opportunity that might have led to his recovery. He drinks to drown the consequences of his actions.

 November the 23rd  

You know, I never do get tired of watching her read. Each page turned tires her wits with the intensity of a man trying to convince you that he’s worth your time when, in truth, he’s not worth a dime. This, of course, frustrates her, which brings me to this; one of the cogs in the machine of her body, if not several of them, is in need of care and inspection. Long story short, she’s been having a really shitty couple of days. I don’t know whether the keenness of my attention to such subtleties makes me a sadist or a masochist of sorts. I could very well decide if I like her pain or mine as I watch life bleed her dry. Sometimes, I think death would be a kinder substitute for her current state of mind. What I can’t decide is precisely this; to grant her the final release.

It doesn’t help that I’m privy to her thoughts, even the ones she doesn’t realize are swirling through her head at the speed of sound. They accelerate whenever she’s in the presence of someone else, and this time (just like the past few weeks) it just so happens that this person is Oikawa.

He isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Just doing some reading for tomorrow’s morning classes. But it’s the fact that he’s chosen to sit opposite her that unsettles her. It shouldn’t surprise her considering that they’ve been playing this silent game every single afternoon for the past week. And it’s always the same ‘movie’ they play in. He sits there, flipping through the pages of the textbook and occasionally some works of literature, waiting until she’s performed the task at hand to speak to her.

“Are you done?” He asks, smiling as he closes the textbook, “Can we discuss the project now?”

Y/n nods and pulls out the sheets of paper in which she has crammed all of her research. She’s still holding them when Tooru pulls them out of her grasp as gently as he can. He knows that if he were to delay his actions one more second, she would slide the papers across the table and he wouldn’t be able to savor the coolness of her skin, the same coolness that worries him every time.

She still briefly, then regains her composure.

“Did you ask your dad?”

“Hm?” Tooru looks up from the papers to see her eyes fixed on his hands as if she can’t look him in the eye, “Ah yes, I did. He said he’d be delighted to have us there.”

“Oh,” She hadn’t expected an approval, “Thank you.”

“What for?”

His question catches her off guard, the rise of his eyebrows as he looks up at her even more so.

“For convincing your dad.” Y/n clarifies.

Tooru chuckles and hopes his bitterness doesn’t seep through every word he utters.

“It didn’t take much convincing him, if at all.” His gaze centers on the paper once more in an attempt to deafen out the odious subject of the conversation, “Your research is thorough with maximum efficiency. However…”

Rigidity and anxiety force every fiber in her body into debilitating stillness. Tooru feels the strength of her insecurities like a cruel grip around his viscera. Her fear of imperfection, of being incompetent, and the immobilizing sense of uselessness… they’re all too keen to ignore.

At last, she speaks, “What?”

“There is little emotional relatability.” She looks straight at him, and he feels her confusion like an extra limb he has to tend to. Tooru, being the overachieving bastard that he’s always been, cannot allow faults to prevail in their work. That is why he rolls up the sleeves of his sapphire-blue sweater and racks his brain for the right way to break the truth to her, “You have gathered the data, analyzed it, polished it to objective perfection, but left little room for subjective experience.”

His words fail to dilute the confusion in her stare so, pointing to the purely rational and factual data she has compiled after weeks of in-depth research, Tooru adds,

“We are psychology majors but it’s our duty that, when conducting research, we don’t include just facts extracted from seven-hundreds-paged books. We should take into account their emotional state so that we appeal to the audience. Now,” He puts out his hand once he sees her lips parting, “You might consider the audience as a body of people who have chosen to attend let’s say your speech conference. You may think ‘they can leave if they want to’. But your ideas have to be heard. An empty auditorium is an abyss and the only thing you will hear is the echo of your unappreciated hard work. You need the audience.”

Tooru didn’t expect her to flinch but the moment her body cringes as if folding in on itself is the moment he understands he has to get his point across by more intimate means. Her eyes regard him with apprehension from the instant he rises from his chair to the one when he occupies the seat to her right. The first thing her brain registers is his scent (a mix of laundry detergent, honeysuckle, jasmine, and sandalwood) and his sudden proximity. Y/n doesn’t know how to feel about the latter.

To make things even more bewildering, he secures a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Tell me,” He begins, “If anyone had spoken to you of this particular affectionate gesture before this moment, would it have felt the same way you would feel right now if they were to say the exact same thing?”

Tooru is once again faced with the impossible task of helping her understand that people crave relatability.

“When being told about the effects of child neglect, a child who has been left to fend for themselves for the better part of their life would feel a tinge of discomfort and no more.” Tooru pauses until she gives some indication that his words are getting through to her. “But if anyone were to mention the process, the details of such neglect, then you might garner their interest, some kind of response.”

A moment later, she nods. Tooru knows his task is finished yet he can’t bring himself to move. Her scent is just… so paralyzing, familiar in the most gut-wrenching way. Submerged in nostalgia, he wants to torture himself just a tad bit longer. He stays.

Y/n, who has now recovered from the initial shock, rummages every nook and cranny for a solution. Instead, she encounters a frightening blankness as far as interpersonal skills are concerned. She knows that this should come as no surprise, yet she feels so strongly that her face briefly scrunches up in frustration.

“How do I fix that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He replies instantly. Her gaze, soaked in doubt, flits to his face so he continues, “We’ll pay a visit to the patients, converse with the faculty, and hand out questionnaires to our beloved friends. I’ll take care of it.”

Her fingers tighten around her binder as if talking to him is the most excruciating torture known to mankind. “What’s your plan?”

Combing his fingers through his brown waves, Tooru does his best to relax in his chair.

“I’ll ponder on what questions elicit the most profound, sincere responses, and compile them into a questionnaire. I’m very good at this, trust me.”

The look she shoots his way relates to him that trusting him is tantamount to sabotaging herself. Trying his hardest not to feel wounded (he knows he has no right to), he chuckles and winks at her (which she receives with a poker face).

“I’m the glue of the collective, after all,” Tooru whispers.

Pulling down the sleeves of her checkered mocha brown coat, Y/n sighs. A shiver rolls through her body despite her attempts at generating warmth, and she has to put in some extra effort not to expose her discomfort in his presence. No matter what she does, however, he catches on. She sees his lips begin to part and, without a second thought, she begins to collect her belongings. Tooru’s attention has now shifted to her imminent departure.

“You’re leaving?” He’s certain his question drips with disappointment.

She nods as she zips her backpack closed. “The library closes at 8 and I have work in half an hour.”

“Alright,” He rises from his chair, and makes to pack his notebook, research paper, and pencils, “I was thinking. Since you don’t work Saturdays and I finish practice at 12:30, we could meet up in front of your apartment around 2 in the afternoon. So, we could be at the facility by 3.”

He had expected to encounter some kind of opposition on her part. Instead, she merely shrugs and begins her walk outside the library.

“That works for me,” she says.

It’s all Tooru can do to stop himself from repeating his gesture from before, this time not with the intent to illustrate a psychological phenomenon, but to satiate his own longing for intimacy. Because despite the slight frizz of her hair, the scar peeking a little below her hairline, and the minute crookedness of her nose, Tooru always has (on a subconscious level) considered her appearance to be soothing. The only difference is that at a time when she might have let him caress her cheek, he would always deny it, and now that he no longer bothers to do so she does everything in her power to evade his touch as though it were a detrimental blow.

But he’s so content, so over the moon because the future seems a little brighter to him now. They’re working together, he can hear her voice, and they’ve agreed to meet again. No uncertainty but his own fears of his own probable misdemeanors threaten to butcher the near future.

“Until next time!” He can’t mask the enthusiasm fluttering in his chest as he watches her walk ahead of him down the corridor, “I’ll be there to pick you up!”

He’s stunned with disbelief when she does her reluctantly does her little wave back at him.

 Ayame isn’t very academically gifted. In fact, if you were to ask her where her talents lie, she would shrivel in embarrassment and try to mask her incompetence with her unparalleled penchant for making everything fun for everyone involved. You might argue that ‘hey that could be her gift’ but the thing is that such is not the case with her. Gifts, to Ayame, bring you success as well as pain. But… she has neither. And it makes her want to fly so high that when she plummets into the river of her tears, her discontent is sure to never be seen again.

This insecurity of hers, of never being outstanding, is what makes her feel that she has to at least succeed at keeping the friendship she, Y/n, and Chiharu have together. She’s willing to try her damn hardest at becoming the adhesive substance that serves as the binding element, even if she has to overwork and overthink herself into madness.

It’s not about keeping the peace. Not entirely, at least. She’s well aware of the trials and tribunals that come with any manner of relationship. She knows that there is no way one can strengthen bonds without arguing and sharing their opinions and values with one another. Harmony is not what’s at stake here, because even in the absence of it, friendships can thrive. Harmony is not what’s at stake here because from the moment she steps foot inside the house to the very first goodbye as she departs for her morning classes, not a single word is uttered by her two best friends in relation to each other.

This god-forbidden silence has her on edge; as if she’s on the brink of a precipice and she’s too drunk to stand. To alleviate her own anxiety and to remedy the situation, she rushes home right after her classes are done for the day, orders take-out, and stands before Y/n’s bedroom door ready to knock when her knuckles halt just before they can make contact with the wood. In the end, she gathers enough courage to rap them against the surface.

“Y/n-chaaaaan!” She calls out, “Are you in theeeeere?” Her question is answered by a shout of confirmation. “Can I come in?”

Silence greets her. The bravery that had fueled her up until that moment seems to dwindle. She begins to wonder if Y/n will turn her away, be cross with her for even asking to be part of her little bubble, or worse, isolate herself until neither Ayame nor any of the others can burst that impenetrable bubble of seclusion. Her courage begins to wane yet she stays rooted in place before a door that in all likelihood won’t open.

“Sure.”

Her friend’s voice makes her flinch in surprise and, sighing in relief that her efforts were not wasted, Ayame enters the room trying to make as little noise as possible (going against her very nature here). The first thing she notices about it is the disarray that characterizes every object. The desk lamp spilling its flickering light on the yellow pages of what must be a book borrowed from the university’s library, the tune sounding from the laptop set atop the desk, the unmade bed, the folded corner of the rug, the various clothing items sprawled on across the floor like deflated limbs. To say that the sight stuns Ayame would be an understatement. More than that it… disturbs her. Y/n, the girl who is keen on orderliness, planning, and efficacy, who always strives to regulate her space so that she can work in an environment that is close to what she thinks is optimal for completing tasks with high results… there is no touch of that girl here. Or, perhaps, this is where Ayame comes into touch with the truth about her friend that she’s never been allowed to see.

Ayame puts on a big smile.

“What are you doing, Y/n-chan?” She asks.

Y/n, who has been making mental notes of the girl’s reactions to her habitat, answers simply. “Just writing.”

Ayame sees this as an opportunity to make conversation.

“Is it the book?” She claps excitedly, “Can you tell me what it’s about? I’m so curious I can’t take this anymore!”

To her dismay, Y/n keeps staring at Ayame as the latter draws nearer by the second. Ayame’s enthusiasm and hopes start to lose their optimistic hues once she feels silence contaminate the room.

“Maybe later when it’s not a mess,” Y/n promises, but even to her, the promise sounds like a faraway lie. She feels the urge to shut the book but resists it for some reason, “Did you need something?”

“Chiharu and I…” She hesitates before mustering up a smile and continuing, “We were thinking of moving out to a bigger apartment and we wanted to ask if you have time to come with us to check out some places near Kuroo and Kenma’s neighborhood.”

Before, as she was cooking her poor excuse of a dinner, Ayame hoped there would be at least an eyebrow raise. You know, to show that the revelation had caught her off guard. Her expectations, on the other hand, were low and so the passivity of her friend’s facial features didn’t come as a shock.

“I was thinking of moving out too.” Y/n plays with the blunt end of her pen, and feels the lines of ink cling to her skin as she speaks, “But I was planning on living by myself.”

The blunt confession sends a pang of hurt through Ayame’s chest. Were she not sitting, she would have staggered several steps backward as id to delay the time of the word’s arrival into her ears.

“Y/n-chan” She begins, “Why would you want that?”

“I’ve been looking for a cheaper apartment.” Y/n continues, oblivious to the distraught look on Ayame’s face, “Don’t want to have to pay for a lot since there might come a time when I’ll have to quit my job as a waitress and can’t afford to pay much.”

It is Y/n’s cold, logical nonchalance that forces Ayame to raise her voice.

“Y/n-chan,” Her voice rings like a bell within a tower, “I know that apartments in Kenma and Kuroo’s neighborhood are expensive but you don’t have to worry about the price!” She stands and clasps Y/n’s hands within her own, “We’re friends and we help each other, don’t we?”

To Y/n, this overflow of warmth and softness is not merely bewildering. If so, she would try to examine it so as to dismantle the barrier that prevents her from understanding a concept, situation, or phenomenon. Under such circumstances, she would relish the confusion because it confirmed that even though she was insignificant, there were other things of great significance that she could unearth, polish, and commit to memory. No, it’s not just bewilderment. Strangely, it is a feeling of inadequacy, deceit, and imminent failure. She knows not what to make of this admixture of poisonous emotions, so she sends them back from whence they came.

“Don’t you want us to be friends anymore?” Ayame isn’t apologetic for the accusation embedded in her delivery, “Do you really want to end up all alone? Why do you keep pushing us away?”

Frowning, Y/n adjusts her position on the chair as if to tame her nerves. “I’m not doing anything like that though.”

“But you are!” Ayame yells. Because her eyes are shut tight, she doesn’t notice Y/n cringing in pain at the volume of her voice, “We want to go back to how we were before but you won’t let us fix things.”

All Y/n can bring herself to do is sigh.

“You’re overreacting.” She says nonchalantly as she faces her desk, unaware that this only serves to fuel the other girl’s anger, “I’m just gonna live separate from you guys. It’s not like I’m going to ignore your texts.”

Ayame feels like she could erupt into a bout of sobs.

“That’s a lie, Y/n-chan.” Her voice breaks. “You barely talk to us here. You’ll forget about us as soon as you live. I know it!”

Y/n would have kept up her nonchalant façade, content to disregard every single word of that girl were it not for the words that slip through Ayame’s lips.

“Haru-chan will be so sad!”

The ministrations of Y/n’s fingers come to a halt. The page falls flat atop those below.

“You’re not making any sense.” She mutters.

“Why are you saying that?”

What should she tell Ayame? That she doesn’t know? That she is sitting there, at a loss of words while thoughts violently bounce from one spot in her skull to another? That there is nothing she’d like to do more than speak? That all she wants is to coddle her silence for all time? She could, but she can’t and she won’t. ‘It isn’t so bad’ she thinks as the patter of rain engulfs the deserted streets coated in the gloom of night. After all, is this not ideal for someone so enamored with solitude, this state of constant ambiguity and stagnation?

“Please, Y/n-chan,” Ayame’s voice blasts her reverie to smithereens. “Please, answer me.”

What a fool Y/n is to think that her silence would so easily dissuade Ayame from achieving her aim, which has now morphed from the hope that there might exist a way to salvage the bond that they share, now grown flimsy, to the erratic, impulsive behavior that overtakes her reason whenever she feels she’s been severely wronged.

The bed creaks as she rises from the bed, fingers lumped into fists at her sides.

“Chiharu was right!” Ayame yells, hoping her lividness shows and that it makes her friend understand even a mite of her pain, “You’re selfish and mean and a coward! You need to go see a psychiatrist yourself!”

Ayame storms out, slamming the door behind her. Not so secretly she is hoping cracks emerge on the surface, that splinters fly and poke into the eyes of anyone who dares to walk by, that every single aspect of this house slowly starts mimicking the deterioration of their friendship. Because only when she sees the decay extend to their home, only then might she be able to let go.

Y/n hopes nothing of the sort. Perhaps it is the lightning splitting the darkness of clouds into bits of grey and purple or the rhythmic pattern of the rain violently demanding to be admitted into the safe that is her bedroom, but the course of events at once resembles disjointed pieces of someone else’s life and the steady flow of water going down the drain. Maybe it’s the various contradictions permeating the situation that have her ignoring the very basic emotional response to an argument between friends.

Anticipating the roar of thunder, she turns the page. The crackle of lightning saturates the world with the sense of safety found only in accepting your insignificance. Sometime after, after many pages turned, folded, and underlined to the point where every corner of the paper resembles a bruise, after a thermos of coffee drained, a mellow tune hums in her head. She thinks it is exhaustion lulling her to sleep.

 November the 25th

“Are you doing alright?”

Tooru watches her adjust her seatbelt and settle into the seat, shivering. She looks ahead and shakes her head, but Tooru knows better than to trust her when she tells him that nothing is wrong. That’s why he continues to glance at her out of the corner of his eyes as he begins to drive out of the dimness of the parking lot. The bustling streets are rife with ear-splitting sounds of motorbikes flashing past, pedestrians yelling at drivers even though they’re in the wrong, and drivers honking at said pedestrians in rapid succession until Tooru is much too amused to suppress a chuckle. Not to mention the tacky-as-fuck music blasting from the car on the lane to Tooru’s left. The driver is flicking the ash off a cigarette without a care in the world, too. It’s something Tooru would do with alcohol if he were to drive down a highway in the dead of night.  

Shaking off thoughts of alcohol, he turns to Y/n and asks, “Is it too cold in here?”

“No.” The word comes out like oiled lighting. “It’s fine.”

But the tremulous sigh tells him otherwise. The air conditioner is on. The windows are closed. She’s wearing a coat, gloves, and a thick, woolen beanie. Other than wrapping his arms around her, Tooru doubts there is much else he can do to regulate her body temperature. But he’s not foolish enough to try that with her at this stage in their relationship (if you can even call the frayed thing that they share that).

He feels her shiver beside him until they reach the hospital.

“Your dad is rich.”

It’s said with such nonchalance yet determination and awe that his head snaps in her direction almost comically. He can’t help but smile down at her. Not because he’s proud to be the son of a rich man, though it undoubtedly has its perks when it comes to bills, education, and having access to certain things that most would be denied. The awe in her voice is a rare enough occurrence to have him grin stupidly.

“That look on your face,” he says as the doors slide open upon sensing their presence. “You didn’t know?”

She scrunches her face in annoyance. “Of course, I do. You used to tell Iwaizumi that your dad had bought you this and that. Literally wouldn’t shut up.”

Tooru is at a loss as to whether he should laugh it off or frown and remain silent for the rest of their trip to the research department. He can’t stop smiling down at her though, meaning the answer is obvious.

“How you wound me, cutie.” He says, opening the door for her. “I was thinking we could check some of the facilities first. One of my father’s employees will be giving us a tour. Then we can move on to observing the patients and interviewing some of them. What do you think?”

Y/n tries not to pay much attention to the way he gestures with his hands in no particular direction as he speaks⸺ combing his fingers through his hair, waving his hands from left to right, and sometimes even rubbing his thumb along his wrists. Curious that he should display signs of nervosity (at least that’s what the books call them) when it’s just her that he’s speaking to.

“Yeah, sounds good.” She responds. “Though I don’t get why we need to check out the facilities.”

Tooru hesitates before clarifying, turning his head to the left to gauge her expression. There’s that crease of confusion on her brow.

“That’s more for me actually.” He clears his throat before continuing. “At some point, after I’m done with volleyball, I’m going to inherit all of this, with other assets being left to be managed by my stepmother. I need to… have a look around.”

He notices someone in the distance heading their way so they halt in the middle of a bustling corridor.

“Alright, cool.” She’s not even looking up at him as she speaks. “You’ve got it all figured out.”

Sometimes I wish that I didn’t, is what he thinks but refrains from voicing. This is a topic better elaborated on another time, and when there are fewer strangers around and no employee of his father politely motioning for the two of them to follow.

Not much happens as they tour. But she gets to watch him pretend to be interested in something he couldn’t be bothered to care about even if was held at gunpoint. It’s the little signs of deprecation she’s learned to discern throughout their childhood and adolescence that make his frustration obvious to her. A derisive grin that no one but the diligent observer can pick up on. Arms crossed over his chest as he drums his fingers on his forearm as if to produce a rhythm the consistency of which can serve as a distraction from what he perceives as utter nonsense. Most of all, Y/n witnesses his trademark pout emerge once the employee has stopped looking their way to point at some machinery.

Things don’t get interesting until the employee introduces them to the patients, after which the man takes his leave and leaves them to conduct their research in peace. The pleasant smile has reclaimed its place on Tooru’s face, and he doesn’t hesitate to flash it at every patient they interview. His voice, his gestures, his looks, and above all his voice put them at ease. They can’t help but respond to the subtle soothing tactics of someone who has spent most of his life polishing them.

Y/n can’t help the envy that seeps through her gaze as she watches on, immune to the emotions pouring out of the patients in the form of tears, impervious to every single sob story to the point of cruelty. Every single thought of hers is permeated by an acute numbness. Your husband abused you. Your father left you. Your mother starved you until you developed ulcers. Your parents tried to kill you and the rest of your family in a suicide car accident and you’re the last man standing. What is it to me? The only reason I’m listening to this is so I can get a good grade. She is deadened to every single display of discomfort that is gone the moment he steps in. He stiffens beside her, and she can feel it.

One thing she’s willing to admit: She isn’t carrying her weight today. In this field, she is the worst player there ever was. She can’t make them feel at ease, and she doesn’t possess the will to try. All she wants to do is analyze the data that he is collecting. As far as she’s concerned, he’s the one who offered to handle this part of the project. She’s giving him free rein.

After what feels like a billion light-years, they exit the building in silence. Y/n can sense he wants to say something and is infinitely grateful when he decides to keep his mouth shut instead. Honestly, all she wants to do is read the data, analyze it, provide him with feedback, and go the fuck to sleep. Maybe she’ll remember to eat while at it.

But her plans are soiled when they’re driving and he decides to park someplace she’s never been to before. To say that she’s scared is an overstatement. ‘Apprehensive’ would be the correct adjective in this situation. It would explain while she’s regarding him with suspicion as he removes his seatbelt and turns off the car.

“Wait inside. I’ll be right back.” Once he’s out the door he pauses to bend down a little, looking her in the eyes. “Or you can come with me if you want.”

Normally, she would take any opportunity to escape his presence. Tonight, however, she thinks it wouldn’t hurt to accompany his annoying ass where he’s headed. That doesn’t mean she unbuckles her seatbelt without some trepidation, but she’s relieved to have done so when they enter the convenience store and walk down the aisles in relative silence. The only sounds permeating the stillness of their surroundings are the buzzing sound of electronic devices, the sound of cars in the parking lot blasting music with their windows rolled up, and the laughter clattering out of the cellphone of the cashier. There’s this tune playing through the speakers. Y/n recognizes it as being a song she had long thought outdated; one she’d spent her teenage years making her sanctuary. Tooru recognizes that song as well. It’s the one he would listen to while lying in bed, the notes piercing the thin wall separating his bedroom from hers. To hear it again… it makes him crane his head to his left as they walk toward the milk bread section.

After making a quick grab at 3 bags of milk bread buns, he leads the way toward the cocoa machine.

“Why?” She asks once they’re out of the store, a warm drink now secure in her grasp.

There’s no other way to go about this, so he answers simply, “Because you’re shivering and you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s like you want me to be indebted to you.”

“Debt? No.” He does the peace sign and sticks out his tongue. “Compensation? Yes, if that’s what you wish to call it.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/n says, “The fact that you do those gestures unironically is astonishing.”

“All I’m hearing is that you find me astonishing.”

“Just stop.”

Oikawa’s heart swells with contentment as he watches her take sip after sip of the warm cocoa. He decides to take a seat right next to the store’s entrance. Nights such as these, picturesque, cold, saturated with a silence that only ripples with the rare passing of vehicles have a soothing effect. Though at first, he is uncertain about her willingness to join him for ten minutes of passive observation every single doubt is lifted like a veil the moment she takes up the space on his left.

He offers her some bread and she accepts it without a word. Although, she does give him the side-eye upon noticing it’s milk bread he is once again about to wolf down.

“Yes, I’m still obsessed with it.” He confesses proudly and takes another bite,” Milk bread and I exchanged vows the moment I could eat solids.”

She breaks the bread and pops a small piece into her mouth, which she washes down with some cocoa.

“You were always mad when your mom would give me some.” The second part comes out more like a mutter, “Telling me I ate like a damned pig.”

Truly, Tooru doesn’t mean to recall the specific occasions during which he’d uttered those words. Clearly, his efforts to efface his wrongdoings while trying to move on are thoroughly futile because not even two minutes into the conversation his words and deprecating gestures crawl forward to haunt him. She doesn’t notice his hand come to a halt right before his mouth or the way his posture becomes rigid and then relaxes exactly thirty seconds later. Or maybe it’s just that she doesn’t wish to comment on it.

“Don’t get mad.”

Just like that, her defenses are up and nearly impenetrable. She searches his face for malintent with narrowed eyes while nibbling away at the remaining bread between her hands. Not even the chilling breeze that ruffles their hair can produce the unsettling effect of her gaze. Still, Tooru decides to shoot his shot.

“I’m about to ask you something and I can already sense you becoming defensive but don’t get mad.” He cringes at the words leaving his mouth. “Why did you always eat like… that?”

“Milk bread wasn’t just your favorite food.” She answers, never tearing her eyes off him. “It’s one of mine too.”  

There’s something practiced about her answer. It’s as if she’s reciting a script, one she’s been rehearsing every night before crashing into her bed after an exhausting day of classes and work, or the moment her eyes fly open before dawn can slip through the space between the curtains. Almost as though it’s ingrained into her brain.

“That’s not all there is to it, is it?” He questions, fingers catching her ruffled fringe between his thumb and forefinger. She shies away from it, combing her gloved fingers through her hair. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. But I do plan to make an outrageous proposal to combat your silence.”

Heat creeps up to her cheeks, and the rosy tint that cloaks her flesh is one Tooru could spend eternity trying to immortalize in his memory. A curtain of hair slides from behind her ear, shielding the side of her face from his gaze until only the tip of her nose peeks out. Nevertheless, he can tell he flustered her. He propelled her heart into beating a little faster. Fearful of her continuing to look away from him if he presses on, Tooru decides to leave it alone for now.

Placing the cup down on the bench, he rises without warning.

“From now on,” Taking in the surprised gleam in her eyes, he begins walking backward, hands buried in the pockets of his thick cream coat. “You and I are going to eat sour candy and milk bread at my house twice a week.”

“What makes you think I would agree to that shit?”

It wouldn’t be like her if she didn’t reject his offer on the spot. She even makes a show of averting her gaze while perching the straw between her lips.

“Your debt.”

He grins as he says it and, feeling her about to retaliate with some scathing remark on how he’s contradicting his statement from only minutes ago, he puts up his hands, the metal cool on his palm.

“Let’s do it this way then.” His voice echoes throughout the empty parking lot. As a demonstration, he shows her the coin snared between his fingertips and sees her glances morph into a puzzled stare. “Heads is yes. Tails is no.”

Y/n frowns and sets her cup down. “I didn’t agree to this.”

But Tooru refuses to listen.

“I’ll flip it like this!” The echo of his voice would have earned them hundreds of peeved looks if the place wasn’t nearly deserted. “And we’ll see what fate the yen has in store for us!”  

Maybe it’s his loud voice. Maybe it’s the fact that raindrops hit the ground moments after he’s sent the coin flying through the air. Maybe it’s the way he throws his head back even as the downpour drenches him from head to toe, waiting for the clang of metal to join the incessant patter of the weather. All Y/n knows at this very moment, as the drink beside her goes cold and the rain turns to glitter under the flicker of the lampposts, is that she feels as though she’s being led by a gentle hand through a cosmos of opportunities.

He bends down to pick up the coin and hurries over to show her the results. The bluish tint of his hands is a cause for concern but, in the enthusiasm of bragging about his victory, his well-being seems to fly right over his head. Unimpressed, she looks at him sitting right beside her, and says, “Have you ever considered that I might be too scared to be in the same room with you?”

The triumphant smile wavers, “Every day.”

“So why do this then?”

“Because I want to feed you candy.”

Ridiculous. Utterly preposterous that he would pester her to such degree, go as far as to buy her hot beverages, only for her to keep him company as they gorge on sour candy. Disbelief shows on her face, she’s certain. Despite her efforts not to grant him any speck of satisfaction, her eyebrows join in confusion and the corners of her lips arch down in what others would label distaste.

Her train of thought is swiftly wrecked.

“And because we can learn from one another.”

“How so?”

“Ah-ah-ah!” He motions with his forefinger, “You’ll have to keep me company in order to find out. Spoiler alert,” His voice drops to a whisper, “It has to do with the project.”

Wrapping her fingers around the drink, Y/n scoffs, “Whatever.”

Just then, his knees hit the ground with a wet thud.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please! Please! Just this once?” She’s too stunned to respond. Not that he would have let her given how he continues to ramble on rubbing his palms together as if in famished prayer, “Even the yen wants us to eat candy together!”

“Pathetic.” Y/n beats down the urge to smile as he grovels before her by wrapping her lips around the straw, “Utterly disgusting.”

Catching on to her attempts at concealing the amusement bubbling within, Tooru’s lips spread in a smile so hopeful that it borders on childishly eager.

“I’ll do it again,” He offers, “If it pleases you.”

Boldness… that’s the only label she can assign to the confidence that has her leaning down to his eye level, the cup still in hand, and imbibing the liquid shine of his brown eyes along with the anticipation, the desperation, and all the range of emotions she cannot begin to decipher. There must have been alcohol in that beverage because there is no way she would be sitting here, witnessing the fall of a king into a beggar drenched from crown to heel, and thinking that he’s beautiful.

Her own voice brings her back to earth.

“Strange.” She mutters.

His confusion emerges in the shape of a faltering smile, “What is?”

“Your insistence that we eat candy at your place.” She rises and chucks the cup into the trash can. “It’s almost like you’re willingly seeking to be in the presence of someone you can’t stand.”

It happens in the span of fewer than six seconds. In no time, he’s no longer genuflecting like a priest or gazing up at her frame as if she were some revered benefactor. Instead, his hands reluctantly reach for hers, a gesture that sparks alarm and calm in that part of her brain responsible for reactions toward physical touch. They’re damp, she notes, and colder than mine. Yet, as one of them clasps around her wrist while the thumb of the other caresses her knuckles, she swears they feel substantially warmer.

“Maybe this,” His voice sounds closer than her own lungs, “Is my way of showing that you’re someone in whose vicinity I want to stand.”

Now, listen here. I know exactly what’s going on through your love-starved minds. Some of you are hoping she’ll play hard-to-get so he’ll prostrate the night away. Others, who deem themselves highly rational will vote for a turn of events where she struts away from a desperate Oikawa Tooru. Finally, those who are here because why-the-fuck-not, will just take everything as it goes.

In her head, her choice is computed this way. She is soon going to leave the apartment Chiharu, Ayame, and her share. The project is reaching the final stages, meaning she will only be forced to play nice with him for hours on end for two more weeks tops. She might as well deplete his sour candy treasury. Tonight… she’s inclined to believe he wouldn’t hurt her.

Hope drains from his irises as she slips away from his hold, walking to the edge of the porch where rainwater drips from the roof. That same hope surges forth once more in the shape of breathy sounds, barely more than a sigh.

“You’re rich.”

He joins her at the brink. “A well-established fact.”

“So, your Wi-Fi had better be top-notch.”

 At the facility, Tooru had thought the destiny of this day was set in stone, that there was no alternative to choose from but to remain immobile as her distrust of him grew by leaps and bounds. He had been prepared to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey and wipe off his tears before they could escape his eyelids. His predictions had been of such nature, forlorn and overrun by a sense of futility. It had sounded… realistic. Even now, turning the key, helping her take off her coat, and combing back his hair with his fingers, it feels surreal that her presence in his house is not a drunken mirage.

She stands in the center of the living room, silently marveling at the sight of high-quality furniture. Tooru is certain his smile resembles one of those delusive toothpaste commercials yet it seems a trivial detail at the moment.

“Wait a bit. I’ll turn on the AC.” He’s already walking toward the kitchen where he placed the remote this morning, “You go take a shower while I prepare the food. Pick anything you want from the drawers. There should be a bottle of moisturizer and a bath sponge in the drawer beneath the sink. Use that if you want.”

“Considering you’re dripping like a faucet, I’d say you’re in need of a shower more urgently.”

Thinking better of it, Tooru relents but points a finger at her, “Fine, but you’re taking one after.”

“I don’t think I should.” She says without missing a beat, “I don’t have any underwear.”

“I did just say for you to pick anything.”

“Are you saying I should go back wearing your clothes?”

“I’m saying you won’t be going home tonight.”

Any other day, his words would have filled her with dread. Perhaps exhaustion has caught up to her and is rendering her brain cells quite literally useless, incapable of perceiving fear even in its mildest form.  

“Give me your phone.” When she doesn’t budge, he clarifies, “For the password, cutie.”

Eager to have something to busy herself with, she hands him her phone. Watching him type in the password, her own fingers itch to slide and press against the screen. On Tooru’s end, he’s trying not to grin while looking at her wallpaper; a picture of a cat and her young, cuddling with each other in a card box that bears names most likely bestowed upon them by her. Like morning dew, it lingers on Tooru’s mind as he types away, as he places the device into her open palm.

“Here you go, pretty.” By the time he realizes what he’s said, it’s too late to rescind his compliment, one from a heart though it may be, “Sorry, I-

“How can I be sure that your hospitality is genuine?”

The question, coming from her, catches him off guard. It is perfectly reasonable for her to assume the worst. It is to be expected. Yet the sting of the suspicion in her stance⸺ shoulders so tense they resemble an electric wire pulled tautly and the vice grip she has around her phone⸺ has him seeking support against the back of the couch, the heels of his palms planted firmly atop the crest.

“What would convince you of the harmlessness of my intentions?” He asks.

She narrows her eyes just the slightest.

“If I told you,” If Tooru didn’t know any better he would think she’s angry, “It wouldn’t be your intentions you’d be showing me, but what you think I want to hear.”

The point where all the emotions radiating from her eyes, her posture, and her words converge, is fear.

“I need you to tell me what would make you feel at ease,” He tries to reason, “So that I can make that possible.”

The stubborn girl is not having any of this, it seems. In fact, he’d go as far as to claim she’s enjoying this back and forth.

“For argument’s sake,” She carries on, pursing her lips, “What would you do if I told you that it’s your presence that has me on edge?”

Tough one, Tooru must admit. It’s not that he has to think hard about what to say, or that he feels in any way outmatched. In a way… he’s been disarmed. All he has left is one single sentence.

“Then you’d win the argument” Through tremendous effort, he maintains a carefree air about him, “And neither of us would gain a modicum of joy.”

Pointing to herself, she emphasizes, “But I’d win.”

Shaking his head, Tooru breathes out a laugh. It takes all the reservoirs of patience and a sense of personal space for him not to let his urge to embrace her be the sole force behind his thinking process. It’s like his intelligence is battling it out with that of the ape from which humans have all evolved.

Taking a step closer, he whisper-yells, “Your rise to power!”

His hand has a mind of its own, reaching out to ruffle her hair as if it’s the most common thing, an inside joke crafted by years of intimacy. As if he’s not overstepping, satiating his desire to be as close as two individuals can be without losing sight of the particulars that make up the core of their being. It’s self-indulgent, a mistake that he should apologize for instead of walking into his bedroom’s bathroom, leaning against the door in utter bewilderment at his courage. Or perhaps he should call it stupidity.

What happens in the next 20 minutes is of no special importance. Sort… of. Okay, no. He takes a shower, gets dressed, and almost invites her into his bedroom before he assesses the state of his… habitat. Empty bottles scattered on the floor. A pack of aspirin and a half-empty glass atop his nightstand. Rumpled bedsheets and shirts strewn across his bed like pieces of garbage. Like the volleyball court, the sight is familiar; comforting and unsettling. Needless to say, he doesn’t invite her in as much as he wishes he could. Instead, he picks out a pair of grey sweats, a short-sleeved white shirt, a hoodie the color of wine, and a pair of socks bestrewn with rocket ships, all of which are sure to hang over her frame, and tells her she can shower in the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

She does so with some reluctance before he grasps her by the shoulders, and spins her, saying, “Trust that you will regret not abusing my shampoo. Off you go, now.”

“It’s your boxers that have me worried.” She quips, lips curled in a sneer, “Might as well not put them on at all.”

“Understandable. I mean… these hips don’t lie and I do have a luscious- wait, I’m joking.” He calls out as she marches down the hallway. “I mean not really but still!”

It’s laughable how giddy he feels. Serotonin levels are through the roof, truly, and it shows in the way he smiles like the strain of pretense has been severed. Halfway severed. In such high spirits, how could he not order her favorite dishes? With shrimp pizza, sour candies, and milk bread spread on the table, all hers for the taking, she would be sure to feel slightly more at ease.

Then again, he reasons, she might feel too self-conscious. This dampens his mood more than the glass-shattering storm outside ever could. However, before Tooru can reassess the situation, he hears the bathroom door creak open, and she comes padding into the living room. His hoodie is too big on her, as are his sweatpants, but like the majority of the earth’s basic boys, he enjoys the sight of the girl he fancies in his clothes. Call it what you will; possessiveness, affection, lust, or all of the above.

She glances at the jar of sour candies on the table and looks back at him. Being the dramatic little shit that he was always meant to be, Tooru spreads his arms and, with a flourish, gestures to the table.

“Most magnanimous gentleman, Oikawa Tooru, holds his end of the bargain!” His words feel ridiculous as he speaks them, “Stay tuned for more!”

She gives him a strange look that almost has him faltering and dropping to the floor.

“Didn’t think you were actually serious.” She tells him, eyeing the jar, “I was waiting to see if you’d pull an April 1st on me.”

Chuckling, Tooru reaches for the jar and plops down on the couch.

“Worry not, cutie.” He removes the lid, “No ploy against you has been engineered.”

It’s a magnet, his playful cadence. It has her taking a step closer, and then another until she’s sitting on his right. He’s aware of the effect it has on people and, truthfully, he was betting on her not being immune to his charm. For once, it worked. She relaxes on the couch. Her breaths come out soft and serene.  Her hands reach into the jar.

“You like anime, don’t you?” He asks, fully cognizant of the answer, waiting for her to nod before connecting his TV to Wi-Fi, “Since you’re more versed in stuff like this you pick.”

Y/n grabs the remote, “What genre do you enjoy most?”

He seems to ponder this for a while⸺ face angled upwards to the side, lips just the tiniest bit pursed⸺ before providing an answer.

“Drama, romance,” A brief pause, after which he snaps his fingers, “Some horror. Throw in a chick-flick and we’re good. What? Hey, what- why are you smirking?”

His reaction to her lips curving up in a smile grounds her to the present moment. The faintest blush dusts his cheeks as their eyes lock. But the amusement in his words betrays no signs of discomfort, merely a slow-paced sort of coziness. It’s like floating in the sea, Y/n comments secretly, like being carried out to sea. The possibility of sinking is no more than an afterthought. It has shrunk to insignificance.

“Nothing, nothing.” She says, already looking up the genre she has in mind, “There’s this genre called slice of life. Romance, light-hearted. Tears here and there.”

Tooru joins her on the couch once again, amusement clinging to him like cologne.

“Just my type.” He says, “Let’s see what Google has in store for us.”

“In my experience, you have to look for lists and be… specific to say the least.”

“Specific? How so?” He sounds puzzled and when she glances at him out the corner of her eye, the look on his face matches his tone, “Doesn’t it show movie titles like it usually does?”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty generic. If you look up, say,” She begins typing, “Best romance anime movies, then you get like lists. Even then, some pretty good movies get omitted.”

In the end, they choose the first option, a movie she’s seen time and time again. No detail of that movie has gone unnoticed. But there is something almost scientific about watching another person experience your past experiences for the first time. Every obstacle Mitsuha and Taki encounter elicits a visceral reaction out of him, be it through a gasp, a clutching of the fuzzy beige blanket, or the almost imperceptible movements of the eyes. The focus of the lens changes. Experiences shed their subjectivity in order to embrace objectivity. She is still the center of her universe, but her mind hauls him out of orbit toward the midpoint.

By the end of it all, he resembles the leaves covered in morning dew. He’s sobbing like a child, and rightfully so. The movie is mesmerizing, profound, and beautifully blue. It is everything that hurts to live but, above all, leave. It takes him a while to gather his wits about him and then he’s asking her if she liked it. She replies that she always does.

Asudden, Tooru points to the third movie on the list. “What about this one?”

“No, I don’t want to watch it.” Is her immediate response.

But it wouldn’t be like Oikawa Tooru if he simply dropped the subject.

“Have you seen it?” She nods as she browses the list. “Is it that bad?”  

Selecting another movie, she answers. “I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

Chapter 5

#oikawa tooru #oikawa fic #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru angst #oikawa tooru x y/n #Suna Rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintaro angst #suna x y/n #yen per second #haikyuu #bully!oikawa x reader

[buoyantsaturn]

2, 3 lmao, I'm not going to ask 17 because that would be extra mean to you specifically, 21, 32, and 42 (you pick which one)

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

oh lol. basically the first half of chapter 4 of camp counselors. originally it was like. will is kind of sad and tries to talk to the other counselors and try to get to know them better instead of just nico and then will was like. haha no. i think i will consume some weed gummies and then have a panic attack on the floor <3 and literally i could not stop him. every word that i wrote was ripped from my little fingers and forced itself onto the page <3 after that tho the fic continued on like. perfectly as planned lol

3. on a scale of 1-10 how much do you enjoy incorporating romance into the average story?

252 fics. they’re all romance bestie <3 literally the only fics that dont include romance as the main plot are my diary entry fics and 9 times out of 10 those still include some sort of like. interaction with a significant other or at least mention of one. i can think of One fic off the top of my head that is not romance-based in any way shape or form lol. so to answer ur question uhhhh 11 <3

21. pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

i do not think i would choose to write a book! i dont think i have the like. descriptive abilities required for book writing BUT  i Do think i can more easily get my Vision (tm) across more clearly through like. script writing. (bc i literally went to college for like. on-stage script writing but also we touched on video writing - plus i took a tv directing class that i hated <3 ). i have briefly talked to @ethannku about this so i think they would be a fun writing partner!! idk what we would write about <3 recently ive been dabbling in taking some scenes from fics that ive just been like. practicing the format with <3

32. do characters influence your writing style?

oh 100% and i think this is very clear across different installments of no love. at least i hope so anyway!! i feel like the few installments in lou’s pov had a much different energy than the nico and will installments. i also try very hard to make the will and nico povs different from each other bc i have a deep fear of what is essentially same face syndrome but for every character just being the same exact person, just with a different name

42. describe the aesthetic of a story in 5 words.

gonna give yall a little teaser for widower >:) 

whirlwind. communication. grief. whiplash. hope :)

thank u katherine!!

send me numbers!

#ask #katherine #ask meme #yrbeecharmer