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lovessidney · 1 year

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Hey syd hiii!!!ugh mm I was wondering if you can please make a Gerard way x reader she/her fanfic where Gerard and her are both in mcr and they are fwb but she has another boy (you can choose the name) that she met in school that still thinks she’s in love with him until one day she sends him a live picture of Gerard and her kissing and hugging super touchy and he gets jealous and tries to always be around her and protect her but she’s in love with Gerard and they fight over her and their always back stage arguing bc Gerard and her are just so kissy on stage thank you lovely (I absolutely adore you and your work I’m so sorry if this is Long)also can you can make it smut go FERAL!!!

Life on the murder scene

Please note that this explicit story was written by an adult, for adults. If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact.

Trigger warning: Violence, blood.

Pairing: Gerard Way x fem!Reader

Pronouns: she/her (anatomy: AFAB.)

Requested by: the sweetest, loveliest anon.

Summary: (Y/n) is the drummer of My Chemical Romance, and has an unfortunate crush on Gerard. They are also in a friends-with-benefits kind of situatonship. An old fling of (y/n)s come to visit them on tour, and everything gets really ugly before it can turn pretty again.

A/n: This request meant so much to me, it was so sweet. And I also think it’s the first time ever I’ve been called by the nickname Syd, it kinda made me tear up tbh. Sidney is not my rea” name, but it’s what I would prefer to be called irl too, so that was really special to me. Sorry for rambling, let me get back to business. I altered the storyline slightly, as I’m not so good with long-form (as in playing out over a longer period of time) content. I hope it’s still okay though anon. Thank you so much for requesting it.

The drums thundered beneath (y/n)s feet as she hammered away at the kit. Her sticks blurred as they danced between snare and cymbals, keeping the beat alive. The stage lights blazed down on her, casting her in a fiery glow, and the roar of the crowd filled her ears. This was their hometown, and the crowd had never been wilder. They'd never sounded better. The energy was crazy. The audience pulsed with every note, their bodies swaying, their voices raised. She was in her element, her body thrumming with adrenaline and dopamine, every beat of her heart in sync with the music. This was what she lived for, this connection with the crowd, this ecstasy of sound. But she wasn't just watching the crowd. She was watching Gerard. They were on fire tonight, moving across the stage in pure frenzy, their voice soaring above the instruments. She and Gerard had a friends-with-benefits thing going on, and watching them move like this made her go absolutely crazy. Gerard caught her eye, and for a moment, they were locked in a shared intensity. They both knew what this meant, this feeling of being alive, of being in the moment, of being together on stage. The crowd was just a blur now, a background of noise, as they connected through the music.

She knew she shouldn't be doing this, getting involved with someone in the band. It was risky, and it could mess things up. But she couldn't help it. She was in love with Gerard, and every time they played together, she felt it more intensely. They didn't know it, of course, and she didn't dare tell them. She didn't want to ruin what they had. So she focused on the music. She poured all her energy into the drumming, trying to drown out her feelings, trying to stay in the moment. But it was hard. Every time Gerard came close, every time they brushed against her, every time their voice filled her ears, her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with them, really be with them, not just in this awkward friends-with-benefits limbo.

The last song of the night ended, and the crowd exploded into applause. Gerard was grinning, their eyes bright with the thrill of the moment. She’d never seen someone look so beautiful. (Y/n) felt the rush of adrenaline and excitement course through her body, and she couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. She quickly got up from behind her drum kit and joined the rest of the band at the front of the stage. As they stood there, basking in the glow of the crowd's adoration, Gerard put their arm around (y/n)'s waist. She felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body, her heart racing as she tried to keep her composure. She had been in love with Gerard for so long, and a little gesture like this only made her feelings for them grow stronger.

Suddenly, without warning, Gerard turned towards her and pulled her into a passionate kiss. (Y/n)s body trembled as she responded to the kiss, the heat and intensity of the moment taking over all of her senses. She could feel Gerard's breath hot on her face, their lips moving against hers with an almost desperate urgency. (Y/n) was instantly lost in the moment, the energy of the concert pulsing through her veins as she kissed Gerard back with equal passion. Their bodies pressed together, their tongues exploring each other's mouths with abandon. She could feel the heat of the stage lights on her skin, the sound of the crowd fading into the background as all she could focus on was the feel of Gerard's lips on hers.

The crowd roared even louder, cheering them on as they shared their moment of passion. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but each time it felt just as electric as the last. It was something about the adrenaline and passion that Gerard couldn’t let out in any other way. She was lost in the moment, in the rush of the music and the heat of the kiss. Eventually, the kiss came to an end, and Gerard pulled away, their eyes still locked on hers. (Y/n) was left breathless, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. She knew that this was something that could never be replicated, something that could only happen in the heat of the moment on stage.

Eventually the band waved goodbye to the crowd before making their way of off stage. (Y/n)s mind was racing, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of what had just happened, how to feel about all of it. She knew that she was in way too deep with Gerard, that her feelings for them went way beyond just a physical attraction. As they made their way backstage, the rest of the band congratulated each other on a successful show, but (y/n) couldn't focus on anything other than Gerard. She was lost in her thoughts, wondering if they could ever become something more than just this friends-with-benefits arrangement, these random sparks of passion. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and just enjoyed the afterglow of the concert, reveling in the adrenaline and passion that still flowed through her body. She knew that she was meant to be on stage, and that nothing else could ever compare to the feeling of being in the moment, of sharing that energy with the crowd, and of sharing that passion for music with the rest of the band.

The day after the gig, (y/n) was feeling a mix of exhaustion and euphoria. She sat in bed, scrolling through MySpace and looking at pictures that fans had taken at the show. As she lazily scrolled through the pictures, her eyes came to rest on a series of shots of her and Gerard making out at the end of the concert. In one particular shot, Gerard was kissing her neck, and (y/n)'s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. There was something about being with Gerard that made her feel alive in a way that nothing else did. She knew that the kiss was just out of passion and adrenaline, nothing more. Still she couldn't help but feel happy whenever they were together. She chuckled to herself as she closed her laptop and got ready for another day of rehearsals. The tour was starting the day after that, and she knew that they had to be on their A-game if they wanted to make it a success.

(Y/n) sat outside rehearsals with Mikey, looking at her ringing phone. It was Ethan. She sighed deeply. She had really been trying to avoid Ethan. More so since joining the band and specifically since getting to know Gerard. Ethan had been a fling back in school, and it had ended poorly. At least on her end. They hadn’t been in a relationship, so theoretically he hadn’t been cheating while he was sleeping around with half their school but it still felt like a betrayal. She really had had feelings for him once. Those feelings was since long gone though, and now she just wanted to avoid him. She hadn’t really told him that she knew what he’d been up to, rather she’d just tried to cut him off, just ghost him. It wasn’t going that well though. He wasn’t really getting the signals. The phone kept on ringing, and she kept on staring at it. She was sitting outside, taking a break from rehearsals with Mikey. He chuckled at the ringing phone. “You’re sure you shouldn’t take that? It seems like he won’t give up” he asked. Mikey knew part of the story about Ethan, but not the part of why (y/n) wanted to cut contact with him; since she was now interested in Gerard, the charismatic singer of the band and also Mikeys sibling. (Y/n) sighed deeply and picked up the phone. “Okay, fine. I’ll see you back inside then?”

She walked a bit further, away from the bench where Mikey was sitting. She took a deep breath and answered the call. “(Y/n)! Hi!” Ethans voice enthusiastically greeted her. Why was he so chipper, she thought. “Hi Ethan” she answered, a bit more lukewarm in tone. “I’ve been trying to reach you forever. Are you too busy for me now that you have a band and success?” He teased. She frowned, this was really the least person she wanted to have a conversation with and she wished once again that she just had the guts to confront him, so he’d back off once and for all. “It’s been a hectic time lately, we had a gig here at home yesterday, and today is final day of rehearsals for the tour” (y/n) answered, giving as good of an excuse as she could. It wasn’t a lie. They’d been busy. Their second record had just been released, and they’d done lots of PR for it, as well as planning for the upcoming tour. Ethan wouldn’t get that though. He’d never really been supportive of her as a musician, and had always just seen her drumming as a ‘quirky hobby’. In hindsight, (y/n) really didn’t understand what she ever saw in him. Sure, he was good looking, but she couldn’t think of much more. “I saw the pictures on MySpace,” Ethan said, and (y/n) immediately understood which pictures this might be. She sighed internally, and Ethan kept on talking. “I thought maybe I could come see one of your gigs?” Ethan asked. (Y/n)s jaw almost dropped to the ground. Really? Was now the time to be supportive? She mentally cursed herself for not having more of a backbone to tell him off. Never seeing him again would’ve been too soon for her liking. “Are you sure that’s your type of thing? You never used to like to hear me play when we were together back then” she asked, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible. “Come on (y/n)! I used to love hearing you play and sing.” That was just a blatant lie, she though immediately. “Uh, yeah, I guess you could come see us the in a few days, if you really want.” Maybe she could end whatever it still was they had while Ethan was visiting, she thought to herself.

She returned back to the bench where Mikey was still sitting, drinking a coke. “Mikey, why the hell was I born with absolutely no fucking backbone?” she asked him. Mikey was a close friend at this point, and he always gave her good advice, whatever the matter was. He chuckled and took another sip of coke. “What happened? It can’t possibly be that bad (y/n)” he said with a friendly smile. (Y/n) sighed deeply. “Ethan is coming out to one of our gigs. I just couldn’t say no” she explained. “Okay. That’s actually pretty bad” he said with a chuckle. “You don’t need him anymore (y/n). I get that it’s hard to just cut someone off like that, but I think it’d be for the best.” (Y/n) smiled at him. He always understood. “I know, I know. I’m going to tell him when he comes to see us. Get him out for good”.

They headed back inside where Gerard, Ray and Frank were waiting for them and continued rehearsing. They all wanted to sound their best this tour. It was something Ray had said in an interview, about wanting the crowd to feel like “they’d just been fucked” when they left a gig. They’d all taken it to heart, and more than anything they wanted to create a lasting impression on the people that actually came out to see them. Soon, afternoon came to evening and the band members began dropping off. Then, at last, there was just (y/n) and Gerard left. As soon as Frank, the last of the three other members, had left the room the whole atmosphere changed. The way Gerard looked at her went from careful glances when the rest of the band was present to something more like a a hunger now. For a moment (y/n) tried to pretend not to notice the way Gerard looked at her, playing along to a backing track of Helena and focusing on getting emotion into the beat of the song. Gerard sat on the sofa, just staring. Eventually the song came to an end and (y/n) had to remove her headphones and meet Gerards gaze.

“What?” (Y/n) asked, despite knowing exactly what was on Gerards mind. It wasn’t the first time they were looking at her like this after all. "God, you're so talented," Gerard said, while taking big strides across the room to (y/n). "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you as my drummer”. (Y/n) knew that Gerard appreciated her musical abilities, otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten the job, but it still meant a lot to hear them say it. “Thanks” she said, trying to keep herself together while she could feel her cheeks heating up. “You’re not all too bad yourself, you know.” Gerard smirked at her and stepped closer. "You know, there's something else I appreciate about you," they said, their voice now barely above a low whisper. (Y/n) looked up at them from her place behind the drums, knowing where this could possibly lead. She decided to play along. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” she asked, her pulse quickening with anticipation. Gerard leaned in, their breath hot against (y/n)s ear. "The way you play, the way you move, the way you look," they murmured. "It's all so fucking sexy”. (Y/n) gasped at the sudden intensity of Gerard's words. She had always known that their relationship was more about physical attraction than an emotional connection. She had always hoped for more. But hearing Gerard speak so explicitly about their desire was still hit her straight in the heart. Before (y/n) could respond, Gerard closed the gap between them and pressed their lips to (y/n)s. The kiss was rough and urgent, full of pent-up passion and longing. As they kissed, Gerard's hands roamed over (y/n)'s body, tracing the contours of her curves and sending shivers down her spine. (Y/n) moaned softly into the kiss, their own hands reaching up to tangle in Gerard's hair, pulling slightly at it, knowing just what they liked. The way they moaned into her mouth made her proud, for lack of a better word. Knowing that she did that to them did things to her as well. They broke apart to catch their breath. (Y/n) smiled up at Gerard. A smile with connotations not suitable for the world outside. But with just the two of them, alone, what did it matter? "What are we waiting for?" she asked, taking Gerards hand and pulling them towards the couch. "Let's make some music."

She softly pushed them down on the couch and straddled their hips. The whine they let out at the new found friction was enough for (y/n) to feel a surge of warmth trough her body. Gerard pulled her closer, and she more than willingly grinded down against them. With one of their arms around her waist and the other wrapping around her neck they nipped at her earlobe before moving lower, kissing and nipping down her neck. (Y/n) groaned at the sensation, letting out a disappointed whine as they stopped. “Oh, was that good?” Gerard asked, grinning up at her. (Y/n) nodded enthusiastically. She ran her fingers through Gerard's dark hair, enjoying the sensation of their soft locks beneath her fingertips. She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled slightly, eliciting a moan from far down Gerards throat. They leaned in to kiss (y/n) again, their tongues tangling together with ease. Gerard slid further down, continued to kiss along (y/n)s neck and collarbone. (Y/n) felt heat rush to her face as Gerard nibbled and sucked at her exposed skin.

Their hips met each others as she ground down against Gerard, making her gasp as she felt the bulge in Gerards, now way to tight, jeans. They pulled away to catch their breath before returning to the task at hand. Gerard's hands slid down her sides, carefully sliding her skirt of her hips. She stood up to kick it off and Gerard continued their work with her top, undoing the buttons and pulling the garment up and over her head. Her underwear was likewise discarded, tossed haphazardly on the floor. Now completely naked, (y/n) let out a pleased sigh as Gerard continued to pleasure her with their kisses, keeping her distracted while they undressed themselves. (Y/n) kissed Gerard deeply, letting their tongues tangle together as their hands explored each others bodies.

When they finally broke apart again, Gerard was pushing their pants down their legs, kicking free with ease. (Y/n) watched in fascination as Gerard pushed down his underwear, revealing themselves fully to her. Their cock was already hard, leaking with precum. Gerard carefully laid (y/n) down on the sofa and spread her legs open, and pulled her closer, slowly moving their hands up her thigh and towards her pussy. She shuddered, excited by the growing need within her. Gerard's fingers brushed against her, tracing the edges of her cunt and gliding along them. (Y/n) groaned at the touch, her eyes closing as she bit her lip. Gerard's finger slipped inside of her, teasingly slow at first before gradually speeding up. (Y/n) sighed, leaning into Gerard's hand as they worked her over. Their thumb rubbed firmly over her clit, occasionally rubbing it in circles. Her breathing began to come faster, her heart beating wildly as she rode their hand.

"Fuck me," (y/n) whispered, breaking the silence. Gerard grinned at her, sliding one more finger into her with ease. "Mhm, everything in good time" Gerard replied, pulling out to rub her clit again. Gerard's tongue snaked out of their mouth, darting out to tease her nipple. (Y/n) bit her lip to try to keep from moaning, knowing that Gerard could tell she was close. Gerard's fingers sped up their pace, working her over with skill and familiarity. (Y/n) moaned helplessly, unable to concentrate on anything but the pleasure. Gerard rubbed her clit faster, while their tongue circled her nipple. “Oh God, Gerard," (y/n) whimpered, her voice shaking. "Please..." Her words were cut short as she came, going limp as she cried out.

They slowed down their rhythm, giving (y/n) time to get used to the change before going back to work. Gerard licked at (y/n)s nipples, causing (y/n) to whimper in delight. Gerard kept up their fingering, working her over until she was begging for release once more. "Fuck!" (Y/n) cried out. She threw their head back, arching her back in bliss as her orgasm rocked her. Gerard curled their fingers inside of her, hitting just the spot she needed. They stopped, waiting to see if (y/n) was finished with them yet. (Y/n) looked up at them, her eyes hooded with lust.

"Gerard, I need you to fuck me now. Or so help me god". Gerard smirked at her, but wanted nothing more than to obey. They quickly got atop of her. They kissed passionately, their hands roaming over each others bodies as they moved together. When Gerard entered, (y/n) gasped with pleasure. They started slow, but built up speed steadily. Soon they were both moving with abandon, Gerard thrusting deep into (y/n). They rolled over on the couch, (y/n) now on top. She knew Gerard loved it like this. They sounded so needy, like this was what they had been waiting for the whole day. She grabbed a fistful of their hair and tugged slightly as she ground her hips into them, picking up the pace as Gerards hips began stuttering. "That’s so fucking perfect" Gerard cried out, bucking his hips into (y/n), driving themselves deeper inside of her. ”That’s it” she encouraged Gerard. ”Come for me. I want to see you break.” And it wasn't long before Gerard could no longer hold back. Their legs shook uncontrollably, muscles tightening and hips desperately stuttering as the white hot pressure raced through their body. Gerard cried out, throwing their head back with an unholy moan as their orgasm hit them. They went completely limp as (y/n) stilled in their lap.

They stayed like that for just a moment. That moment meant everything to (y/n), just getting to be close to Gerard. She treasured those moments of closeness almost as much as the ones on stage. But she knew she couldn’t stay. Hastily, she got off their lap and gathered her clothes, quickly putting them on again. Gerard was still sitting on the couch, dazed. ”I have to get going Gee, but I’ll meet you here tomorrow at 11. That’s when the bus comes to pick us up, right?” She tried her best to sound casual, like her heart wasn’t aching from having to leave them. But the proverbial show had to go on.

The first couple of shows of the tour had been absolutely amazing, and (y/n) couldn’t wait to play again the upcoming evening. But first she had to deal with a day of Ethan. He had arrived in town earlier that day, and they were all supposed to meet up for lunch. (Y/n) dreaded it, and as they sat down to eat, she couldn't help but notice the way Ethan kept staring at her. He seemed to be trying to flirt with her, bringing up old memories and trying to make her laugh. It made (y/n) uncomfortable, and she while she really didn’t want him there, she couldn’t help to feel bad. Maybe he had the idea that something could still happen between them. She looked over at Gerard, who sat across from them, trying his best to be polite, but something wasn’t quite right. If (y/n) didn’t know any better she almost would’ve thought his mood could be summed up to jealousy. Gerard could see the way Ethan was looking at (y/n), and it made them feel uneasy. They tried to engage in the conversation, but Ethan seemed to ignore them, focusing all of his attention on (y/n). Eventually, (y/n) managed to make an excuse for them to leave the unpleasant situation at restaurant, realising they had soundcheck coming up.

During soundcheck, Ethan's presence was felt like a dark cloud hanging over them. He acted strangely, standing off to the side and barely answering when spoken to. Gerard could sense the tension between (y/n) and Ethan, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. After soundcheck, they all gathered backstage, waiting for the gig to start. Ethan was still there, hovering around (y/n) and trying to make conversation, and Gerard was beginning to worry. They knew part of (y/n) and Ethans history, and it made them nervous. Of course, they had no say in if (y/n) and Ethan got back together, but still, it would be heartbreaking. They were fed up with the way Ethan was acting, and he wanted to make sure that (y/n) knew how they felt about it, as they could see she was starting to look uncomfortable too.

Gerard was struggling to keep cool, their jealousy boiling just below the surface. It was an ugly, ugly emotion. Especially since they and (y/n) really wasn’t together. But still they couldn’t help but feel it. They tried to focus on the upcoming gig, but their thoughts kept drifting back to (y/n) and Ethan. They couldn't shake the feeling that Ethan was trying to win her back, and the thought made them feel sick to their stomach.

As they waited for their cue to go on stage, Gerard pulled (y/n) aside, away from Ethan's prying eyes. "I don't like the way he's acting around you," they said, their voice low and serious. "He's making me uncomfortable, and I don't want him to hurt your feelings again.” (Y/n) was taken aback by Gerard's concern. She could feel the tension between them, and it made her heart race. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I can handle him. I'm not going to let him ruin our night." Gerard looked at her for a moment, their eyes meeting. They wanted to say so much more, to tell her how they really felt, but they couldn't find the words. Instead, Gerard leaned in and kissed her, their lips meeting with passion. The kiss was electric, sending shivers down (y/n)'s spine. She could feel Gerard's arms around her, pulling her close. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment, just the two of them together. They finally broke apart and (y/n) looked at Gerard, absolutely perplexed. The whole situation was so unusual. ”For good luck” Gerard finally managed to say with a wink and a smile, before stepping out on stage.

As the band took to the stage, the crowd erupted into cheers and screams. The atmosphere was electric, and the band could feel it coursing through their veins. They played with a fierce energy, each member pouring their heart and soul into every note. Gerard, in particular, seemed to be on fire. They danced across the stage with a wild abandon, their movements more suggestive and provocative than ever before. Their eyes kept flicking back to where (y/n) sat behind the drums, and every time they made contact, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between them.

Despite the incredible energy of the show, Gerard found that they couldn't fully focus on the music. Their mind kept drifting back to (y/n), to the way she looked behind the drums, to the way she screamed along to the lyrics as she played.

Finally, as the last song rang out, Gerard couldn't take it any longer. They strode across the stage, eyes fixed on (y/n), and pulled her to her feet. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as Gerard pressed his lips to hers, his kiss filled with more passion and intensity than ever before. For a moment, they were lost in each other, the rest of the world falling away as their bodies pressed together. It was as though they were the only two people in the world, lost in a moment of pure passion and desire.

Finally, as the song came to an end, they pulled away from each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. The crowd roared their approval, and (y/n) felt a thrill of excitement race through her body. This was what it was all about. The music, the passion, and the wild, unpredictable ride that came with it.

(Y/n) had seen the way Ethan had looked at her when she sat behind the drum kit. If someone would’ve asked her just over a year ago what she would do to make him look at her like that, she would’ve offered the world. Now, it felt wrong. It felt like Ethan was just here now because she’d ‘become someone’, like he thought what he’d done didn’t matter. It made her uncomfortable and she tried her best not to think about his presence and just focus on the music. Just making the gig count. What she hadn’t seen was the way he looked at her and Gerard when the were half way to making out at the end of the show. The look in Ethans eyes had been that of slight disgust, and somewhere in there, despise for Gerard.

On her way off stage (y/n) stopped to talk to her drum tech, just talking the set-up and some things that needed fine-tuning through in before the next gig. As she walked through the corridors she thought she could hear screaming. She shook her head, it was probably just the crowd hoping for another encore.

Gerard arrived backstage before any of the other members of the band. They were surprised to see Ethan there, with his arms crossed over his chest and pure anger in his eyes. ”You fucking disgust me” Ethan spat at Gerard as they entered the room. Gerard was still pumped up on adrenaline from the show, and the ecstasy flipped to anger much quicker than any of them expected. Gerard glared daggars at the man. ”What’s your bloody problem?” Gerard spat back. ”My problem is that you’re corrupting (y/n). The way you act on stage is repulsive, you’re dragging her down with you” Ethan answered, stepping closer to Gerard. They just stared at him for a moment. And when Gerard didn’t answer Ethan continued. ”(Y/n) used to be so good. Such a nice, sweet girl. Now she’s in the gutter with you.” Gerard was fine with people insulting them, they didn’t really care, but the moment Ethan took (y/n)s name in his mouth it was like something boiled over.

They crossed the room in just a few strides and swung directly at Ethans face. It was so quick, and they were surprised at their own action. They weren’t one to get into fights typically, but if someone was worth fighting for, it was (y/n). The blow connected, but not enough to knock Ethan down. Ethan dodged backwards while trying to keep standing. Gerard kept swinging, but now that Ethan had his head in the game it was harder to hit. A moment of lost focus allowed Ethan to get a hit in. A hit straight over Gerards mouth, splitting their lip open. Gerard staggered backwards, but stayed on their feet. Ethan followed, ready for another round. Gerard knew they wouldn't last long if the fight went on, Ethan was both taller and stronger than them. "You don't get to speak about (y/n) like that" Gerard growled, shoving Ethan away. Ethan stumbled back several steps. "Yeah? Well she's going to regret leaving me if it’s you she’ll be stuck with" Ethan said before pushing Gerard to the ground and managing to pin them down. Gerard tried to twist free, but Ethan held them tight, pressing them against the floor. "I told you to leave her alone. And I'm not warning you again.” Ethan gritted out through clenched teeth. Gerard struggled hard, but couldn't get Ethan off. "Why should I listen to you? You're not even her boyfriend anymore, you blew that chance ages ago.” Ethan looked like he was about to punch Gerard again, and like this punch would be something other than the earlier ones. ”Well neither are you. You’re delusional if you think she’d ever want to be with someone like you” Ethan bit back.

And at the exact moment Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for a hit to the face they heard (y/n)s voice. ”Ethan! What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screamed at him. Both Gerard and Ethan was taken by surprise, and while Ethan couldn’t even begin to think of an excuse for the situation she’d found them in, (y/n) had more to say. ”Get off him right fucking now, you bastard” she yelled. ”But-” Ethan began, not quite sure where the sentence would go. ”But fucking nothing. You’re leaving right fucking now.” she spat angrily at him. ”So you’re really choosing them before me? (Y/n), are you sure about that?” he answered, voice almost mocking as he let Gerard go and stood up. (Y/n) looked at Ethan like he was absolutely insane. ”They are my best friend. They’re the world to me. You’re just an embarrassing history I can’t seem to shake. You’re leaving right fucking now and I never want to see you again. Do you understand?” (y/n) shouted at him, looking like she was about to punch him too. Angry tears were welling up in her eyes. Ethan stood still. ”I said now! Or I’m calling security”. Just a moment later security rushed through the door anyway, having been made aware of the racket. (Y/n) tried her best to calm down as she told them what had happened and directed them to escort Ethan of the premises. As soon as he was out the door she fell to her knees next to Gerard who was still laying on the floor.

”Gerard?” she asked, trying to get their attention. Gerard blinked slowly and looked up at (y/n). They saw she was crying and reached up a shaky hand to wipe a tear off her cheek. ”Don’t cry (y/n). It’s okay. Everything is okay. I’m fine, I promise” Gerard said softly and mustered up a smile, which immediately made them wince in pain. She pulled them into a hug and held them close for a long time.

Some of the personell at the venue had offered to take care of Gerard, but (y/n) had insisted on doing it herself. It was her fault that Gerard was in this state, and she’d be damned if she didn’t do her best to fix it. With a first aid kit in one hand and Gerard by the other they walked towards the bathroom. A bathroom where they, in any other situation, would probably have had sex right now. She carefully sat them down on the floor before turning to rummage through the first aid kit. She found what she was looking for. Cotton balls and some asol to clean the wounds, and plasters to cover them up. She squatted besides Gerards place on the floor. “What were you thinking, Gee? You could’ve gotten much worse hurt than this” (y/n) said, trying her best to conceal the genuine worry for them. Gerard smirked at her with a bloody lip. “He had it coming” was all they said. (Y/n) shook her head but smiled at Gerard.

She got a cotton ball ready and held it up to their face. “Okay, are you ready? This might sting a bit” she warned them, as if they’d never had a wound cleaned before. She softly dabbed the cotton ball against their split lip. Gerards eyes screwed shut and they winced at the feeling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” (y/n) said softly. She cleaned the wounds one after one before plastering them up. She looked at Gerard. Even like this, with a split lip and bruises beginning to form, they were absolutely stunning. “Okay Gee, you’re all fixed up”. Gerard smiled softly at (y/n). “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that you know” they said with a voice that told (y/n) they were grateful but somewhat ashamed about the whole situation. She was just about to stand up when Gerard grabbed her hand. They looked at her with big eyes. “Would you kiss me?” (Y/n) smiled at them, just slightly perplexed by the whole situation. But how could she ever say no to kissing Gerard. They were a dream. Her dream. She had never loved someone like she loved Gerard. She leaned in and pressed her lips to Gerards, softly and sweetly. The feeling between them was something unfamiliar, but Gerard responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into their lap. After a moment, they pulled away, both breathless and smiling. "Feeling better?" (y/n) asked, grinning. "Definitely," Gerard replied, his eyes sparkling in a way that made (y/n)s heart skip a beat. (Y/n) grinned back at them. "Good. Now, what do you say we go find the rest of the band and have dinner?” Gerard nodded, still grinning. "Sounds perfect to me."

The whole band walked through the streets, looking for some place to have dinner. They were all talking and laughing about the gig they’d just played. No one seemed to dare mention the fight afterwards, all of them talking around it like the elephant in the room. Until Frank decided not to. “I mean, it’s a shame you got your ass kicked, Gee. It really is. But I must say, I didn’t think you had it in you to throw a swing first like that.” The sentence piqued (y/n)s interest. Gerard had thrown the first swing. It didn’t quite make sense to her. Why would they do that? She decided not to take part in the conversation and instead turned to Ray to compliment him on the solos he’d played on stage. Ray always played amazing solos, and she made sure to tell him every single night. The two of them soon got lost in a conversation and she didn’t manage to hear the rest of what’d played out before the fight backstage.

After searching the streets for way too long they eventually stumbled upon a small bar with a neon sign that read "Food & Drinks". The place looked a little dingy, but the smell of cooking food wafting out of the kitchen window was enough to make their stomachs growl. The group walked in and took a table in the corner. They ordered drinks and food, chatting and laughing the whole time. Once they were all settled with food, they ordered a round of shots to celebrate the successful gig. The group lifted their glasses and cheered to the future of the band. Gerard was particularly excited and kept making jokes and laughing loudly. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in their chest at seeing Gerard so happy, despite the situation backstage. As they sat there, the conversation focused in on the gig they just played. Frank started talking about how the crowd was electric and how their energy had been absolutely crazy. Ray chimed in, saying that it was the best they'd ever played as a band. Mikey agreed, nodding his head in enthusiasm. (Y/n) listened to them talk, a feeling of pride swelling in her chest. She hadn’t played with them for that long, just since before they started recording the second album, but she treasured every moment of it.

As the night wore on, the drinks started flowing a little more freely. The group got louder and rowdier, shouting and singing along to the music playing over the speakers. After a few more rounds of shots, Gerard was starting to get noticeably drunk, and seemed to have lost their good spirit. The alcohol had strengthened the despair they felt, rather than making them forget it. They kept swaying in their seat and slurring their words. (Y/n) was worried about them, but they insisted they were fine. They talked for a while longer, about everything and nothing at all. The rest of them laughed and joked around, enjoying each other's company. Gerard stumbled a bit as he got up from his seat to go to the bar, and (y/n) caught them before they fell. She looked at the rest of the band, who were all smiling and chuckling at Gerard's drunken antics, also too drunk to notice how sad Gerard seemed. "Come on, Gerard," (y/n) said, wrapping her arm around their waist to steady them. "Let's get you back to the hotel." Gerard leaned their head against her shoulder, their eyes half-closed. "Okay," they said with a soft voice. They said their goodbyes to the rest of the band that had decided to stay a bit longer, and made their way into the night.

As (y/n) and Gerard stumbled out of the bar and into the cool night air, (y/n) wrapped her arm tightly around Gerard's waist, trying to steady them as they walked. Gerard leaned heavily on her, their steps unsteady and their words slurred. "Thanks for taking care of me," Gerard said, their voice almost too quiet for (y/n) to make out. "Of course," (y/n) replied, her voice gentle. "I'm always here for you, Gee.” As they walked, the night grew quiet around them. The only sounds were their footsteps against the pavement and the occasional car passing by. They walked in silence for a few more minutes until (y/n) spoke up. "You seem awfully quiet, what’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice soft. Gerard was lost in thought, their mind consumed by worries about what Ethan had said. Gerard didn't want to burden (y/n) with their worries, but they just couldn't shake the feeling that she was too good for them. They shook their head, trying to clear the thoughts that was bringing them down. "It's nothing," they said finally. "Just thinking."

They arrived at the hotel, and (y/n) helped Gerard up the stairs and to his room. They stood outside Gerards door for a moment, both of them silent. "Thanks for tonight," Gerard said finally, their voice somber and with a bittersweet smile. "Anytime," (y/n) replied, smiling at them sweetly. Gerard was still lost in thought, mind consumed by doubts and fears. But then (y/n) spoke again, her voice warm. "You know, you're really quite handsome, even with a split lip," she said. Gerard smiled, feeling a warmth spreading through their chest. ”Handsome enough for you to come inside with me?” they said with a playful wink, regaining some composure and hope. (Y/n) didn’t say anything, she just leaned in and kissed Gerard softly on the lips. The kiss so was gentle at first, but quickly grew more passionate, both of them lost in the moment. Gerards lips were soft and warm against hers, and she could taste the alcohol on their tongue. Their arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as they kissed. (Y/n) could feel the heat of their body against hers, and it made her feel alive. Their tongues danced together, the passion between them building with each passing moment. (Y/n) could feel her heart racing in her chest as Gerard's hand moved up to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss even further. She ran her fingers through their hair, feeling the soft strands slip through her fingers. The kiss was intoxicating, and (y/n) found herself lost in the moment. She pulled Gerard closer, as if closer was a thing to be possible, and for a few brief moments, all of Gerard's worries faded away, replaced by the warmth of (y/n)'s touch. They stood close together, foreheads pressed against each others while they tried to catch their breath. “Okay. Let’s get inside” (y/n) demanded, eyes dark with desire.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Gerards hands were all over (y/n)s body. They quickly pulled her jacket and t-shirt off, then stopping for just a moment to admire the sight. ”God, you’re so fucking gorgeous (y/n)” they said, panting, before closing the space between them again. They stumbled their way over to the bed and fell onto it, without ever breaking apart. Gerards coat and t-shirt got lost somewhere on the way. (Y/n) quickly got on top of Gerard and pinned their hands down on the bed over their head. They looked up at her, pupils blown wide with desire.

She watched as his eyes tried to take in every inch of her naked skin, in slight disbelief. Gerard leaned up and kissed (y/n), pouring out everything they were feeling into the kiss. She let them keep that up for a moment before pushing them back down into the bed. Once they were flat on their back, (y/n) leaned in to kiss their neck. Gerard moaned softly as she sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on their neck and rolled her hips against theirs. ”Oh god (y/n). Please, more. That feels so good” they whined, barely keeping their thoughts straight. (Y/n) smiled down at them gently before pressing her lips down towards their chest. She licked each nipple, then took one into her mouth, sucking hard. Gerard let out a breathy moan and arched their back, gripping at the sheets around them. They were already hard from her working them over, but this made it so much hard to be patient. She pulled away and moved her free hand down their body. She rubbed their cock through their jeans at a agonisingly slow pace.

Gerard groaned as their hips bucked and their stomach tightened, straining against the fabric of their pants. (Y/n) smiled down at them, then turned her attention back to their cock. She slowly unbuttoned their pants, pulling them down to their ankles before tossing them aside along with the boxers underneath. She ran her fingers up and down their length, watching it twitch when she brushed across its sensitive tip. It throbbed and grew even harder under her touch. She looked down at Gerard, kissing their chest as she continued to stroke their cock. Gerard was breathing heavily, trying to get their hands free so that they could touch her.

”Please (y/n), I need to touch you. Please” Gerard begged her, their voice desperate. Her breath caught in her throat and she stopped stroking them, instead leaning down to kiss their lips softly, her tongue slipping between their lips with ease. They moaned deeply, trying to reach up to get more of her. She pulled away and stood up. Gerard eyes followed her as she unbuckled her belt and slid it through the loops of her jeans. Gerard's eyes widened as they watched her pull the zipper down, revealing her panties. She slid those down over her thighs along with the jeans. Gerard craned their neck, watching her strip. Their cock twitched and swelled even further under her stare. (Y/n) bit her lip, letting a satisfied smirk cross her face as she stepped out of her jeans and underwear. She kicked them away before standing in front of Gerard, naked.

She grinned down at Gerard as she dropped to her knees on the bed before them. They looked at her with wide, desperate eyes as (y/n) bent down towards their hard cock. She wrapped her hand around it and gave it a few slow strokes. Gerard groaned deeply, moving their hips up and down slightly in attempt to get more out of her touch. She smirked down at them, taking their cock into her mouth. (Y/n) sucked on it roughly, bobbing her head up and down. ”Fucking god. (Y/n), please. More.” They didn’t even know what they were begging for, they just knew that they wanted whatever she would give them. (Y/n) gave them a few more strokes before she pulled back up, looking up at Gerard with a devilish grin on her face. She licked her lips before leaning down again. She took their cock in until the tip hit her throat, then let go of it. Gerard cried out loudly as she worked up and down his shaft, her tongue sliding along the underside of their cock with every move. She looked up at Gerard, who had a look of pure ecstasy on his face.

She looked up to see their eyes meeting her own, their pupils blown wide open. They held her gaze as she sucked their dick, making sure to keep eye contact. Gerard was shaking on the bed, their hips jerking up and down, trying to get more from her. She hummed gently into their cock, their hips bucking as she bobbed her head faster. ”(Y/n), please. If you keep this up I’m not going to last” they gasped, trying to keep their hips still. She grinned mischievously and pulled off. Gerard groaned as (y/n) climbed back up, straddling them. She ran her hands down his chest and stomach, then leaned in to kiss them passionately. ”Are you ready?” she whispered in Gerards ear while positioning herself over their cock. They nodded quickly, with eyes screaming of desperation. She smiled down at them and lowered herself down. She moaned as she felt their cock slide deep inside her, stretching her tightness. She threw her head back and moaned loudly, and Gerard could’ve sworn they’d never heard a more beautiful sound in their life.

(Y/n) ground their hips against Gerard, then leaned forward as she began to bounce up and down. She looked down at Gerard, watching their expression. They were so beautiful. Their rosy cheeks, desperate eyes and mouth slightly agape. Gerard put their hands on her hips, helping her up and down their shaft. They closed their eyes, biting their lip to keep from crying out. The pressure was building, their body tensing up as their climax was rapidly approaching. (Y/n) knew exactly what they were feeling and slowed down to keep them right there on the edge. Gerard's grip tightened on her hips, but then immediately they let go, as if afraid they'd lose control and hurt her. But she just laughed and rocked her hips faster, causing them to let out a loud cry. (Y/n) rode them out, slow and steady, until Gerard couldn't take it anymore. He bucked up into her as she came down onto him, their bodies exploding together. (Y/n) threw her head back as the waves of her orgasm crashed through her. Her body relaxed as she came back down to earth, but Gerard was still trembling underneath her. (Y/n) slid off of them, just taking a moment to lay beside them in bed. But she knew she had to leave.

After just a moment she sat up, while Gerard laid still in bed. She looked for her clothes. Clothes that made a trail from the door to the bed. She sighed and reached for her panties to put them on before going after the rest of the clothes. Carefully she stood up, legs a little wobbly both from alcohol and sex. After collecting the rest of her clothes she sat down on the edge off the bed again, starting to put on her t-shirt. That’s when she felt Gerards hand on her hip. She turned to look at them and was surprised to see them look sad again, like the earlier effect of the alcohol had doubled down on them. In combination with the bandaged cuts and bruises they really looked miserable.

She leaned over and caressed Gerards cheek. It didn’t count to the ordinary, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation either. “What’s wrong Gee?” She asked carefully, not quite knowing what to expect to hear. “Do you really have to go (y/n)?” Gerard asked with a small voice. She looked at them, perplexed. “No. Not really” she said, confused. “Do you want me to stay with you?” she then asked, just to clarify to herself that she’d understood Gerard correctly. They smiled a melancholic smile and nodded. (Y/n) didn’t quite know how to handle this new situation. Sure, she’d seen Gerard sad before, but not in a situation like this. But if they really wanted her to stay, then of course she’d stay. She took off her shirt again and got back under the blanket. Carefully she took Gerard into her arms. They crawled close and rested their head on her chest while she softly stroked their hair. “What’s the matter honey?” she asked softly, daring a term of endearment. “I just want you to stay. I always want you to stay afterwards” Gerard murmured into her chest. She kissed their black mop of hair softly. “You could’ve just told me”. Gerard sighed deeply. “I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to make things weird between us, if you didn’t feel the same” they explained after a moment of silence. They looked up at her, half expecting a negative reaction, aversion. Instead they saw (y/n) smiling down at them. “I’ve always wanted to stay, Gee. I just didn’t know how to tell you” she said, echoing their words back to them. They just looked at each other for a moment before Gerards face broke up into a smile. “Really?” they asked, not quite believing what they were hearing. She smiled back at them. “Really, Gee. I promise.”

Gerard kissed her softly. Not like they usually kissed. Not with the fever or hunger that she was used to. This was something else, something sweet and almost shy, like the kiss they’d shared when she’d taken care of Gerard after the fight. “I really adore you, you know. I’ve always adored you, and the whole situation with Ethan just made me so jealous. I just have to let you know how I feel, even if you don’t feel the same” Gerard whispered softly in her ear. It made her heart skip a beat, those were the words she had waited for for so long. She looked at them, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together. “Was that why you got into that fight with him before?” she asked, carefully. Gerard nodded slightly. “Yeah, he said some really idiotic things about you. About us too, I guess” they confessed. (Y/n) looked at Gerard, slightly confused. ”He said that I’m ruining you and that you’re too good for me. And I guess he’s right. You are too good for me. Too good to be true” Gerard mumbled, a lonesome tear rolling down their cheek. (Y/n) wiped the tear off their face. ”Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry. It’s okay, everything’s okay” she whispered softly in Gerards ear. They looked up at (y/n), at her soft, sweet smile. More tears started coming, their bottom lip trembling. She pulled them closer and held them tight. ”Gee, honey, there’s no place I’d rather be, no one I’d rather be and no one I’d rather be with than you” she whispered calmingly while drying off more tears. She kissed their forehead, over and over again, until the tears seemed to have stop. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine” she sang softly while wiping away their tears. “You make me happy, when skies are gray” she continued, whispering in their ear. Gerard looked up at her with big eyes. “You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.”

Gerard snuggled up closer to (y/n), enjoying the warmth and comfort of her embrace. They breathed in sync, feeling the rise and fall of each other's chest. (Y/n) softly stroked Gerard's hair, running her fingers through the messy locks. They lay like that for a while, just basking in the afterglow of their intimate moment. (Y/n) could feel the tension in Gerard's body slowly dissipating, as they relaxed more and more into her arms. Eventually, (y/n) spoke up, breaking the peaceful silence between them. "I'm going to get you a glass of water, okay?" she whispered. Gerard groaned slightly, not wanting to move ever again. "Do I have to?" they mumbled, burying their face into (y/n)'s neck. (Y/n) chuckled softly. "Yes, you do. You'll get a headache otherwise, and we don't want that, do we?" Gerard sighed and reluctantly untangled themselves from (y/n)'s embrace. They sat up and watched as (y/n) got out of bed, stretching her limbs before padding over to the kitchenette to get a glass of water. As (y/n) came back to bed, Gerard sat up and took the glass from her, taking a few sips before setting it down on the nightstand. They snuggled back up to (y/n), sighing contentedly as they rested their head on her chest once more.

They lay there for a while longer, talking softly about everything and nothing in particular. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with them, and they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, for the first time ever.

Thank you for reading! And applauds if you made it to the end. I hope you enjoyed whatever this was, and if you ever want to send me a request, my inbox is always open!

#My Chemical Romance fanfic #Gerard Way fanfic #Gerard Way x reader #Smut #Ssidney writes #tw: violence #tw: blood

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mayakrish08 · 5 months

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Percy Jackson And The Olympians: The Series

Alright fellas, buckle up for the rant. I can’t believe it’s week 4 already and that we are 5 episodes in. I’m gonna start with the current episode. The story is slowly picking up pace, and BOY I loved this episode. The fact that this episode has the FIRST HUG and the FIRST SEAWEED BRAIN are good reasons for that. Another being the way Annabeth dealt with the situation, and how she admitted that Percy was better than her. It must have taken a lot. It’s been… what, a couple of days, and that guy is tilting her world from its axis. Being a self righteous daughter of Athena, and finding yourself with an impulsive guy like Percy? Ha. The most unlikeliest pair, but let’s not forget their parents, hmm? At least their kids don’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon. And I remember thinking that Percy has made Annabeth cry in a matter of few hours. ANNABETH and CRYING do no go in the same sentence that easily. I also remember thinking that Percy was sooo… Percy! “Where is our ride?” And “You think you know me, but you don’t” and ohh, the ultimate, “It’s… smelly.”

Ares was a douche, but I loved his aesthetic with the black leather jacket and the motorcycle. Felt like he jumped right outta the book.

But but, can we like talk about Grover? Ma Man SLAYED it! IS SLAYING IT actually! The way he dealt with Ares, holy gods!! RESPECT!! He was such a SMOOOOTH CRIMINAL! “Pottu vangardhu,” we say in Tamil. That’s exactly what he did with Ares - getting the information he needed from Ares, but in a way that satisfied Ares’ ego. Ah Grover is such a badass. “So, thank you for the emotional abuse and the cheeseburgers. We will take you up on the ride too.” DAAAAMMNNN DUUUDDEEEE!! Ah I feel in love with him right from the consensus song. {Muttering “Oh Golly, the road’s gettin’ bumpy}

Speaking of, that episode was really good too! I loved how Grover kept deflecting every question, how Percy kept questioning the hierarchy, and how Annabeth was constantly rolling her eyes at Percy, BUT they still didn’t give up on each other, and Grover snapped, and hey! They are finally bordering on the friend zone.

Ah, I wish current Percy and Annabeth could revisit their initial years. Or, I keep thinking, how would House of Hades be, with this cast? *Snort* Ironically, when I think about that, it feels like we are JUST five episodes in. It also makes me feel awed because… We may as well be watching these kids grow up! Like, sure, there will be PLENTY of new characters (Personally, after seeing Hephaestus, I can’t wait for Leo), but Percy and Annabeth are going to be constants, even more so than Grover! So, that means, we will be watching Leah and Walker grow, and we will have a chance of coming back to the first few episodes and coo at how small they are. Gosh, watching the cast interviews now makes me see the difference already!

There is one thing with this series: I keep forgetting the book! It feels like that, certainly! I mean, I don’t remember the Golden Throne thingy, nor did I remember the way Medusa was killed! While the scenes fit the series’ storyline, it is making me doubt my demigod-ness 😭 I also think Gabe is too… decent in this series. He is… MUCH worse in my head. Ugh.

All in all, I think they are doing a good job. At first, I was a bit skeptical, but after watching a certain review of a certain YTber I follow, my perspective changed for the better. Like, she is the perfect Demigod and Witch! Finally, someone I can totally relate to!! Check out her content!

youtube

Alright, I am gonna wrap up the rant for now. But I am planning on posting a review every Wednesday, because I NEED PEOPLE TO TALK TO ABOUT THIS DAMMIT!!

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boltgunkiller-archive · 5 months

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Brittany S. Pierce for the character ask?

favorite thing about them?

she is so layered and complex. idk i think her lines are funny and all but also there is a lot more than that. like people often mistake her for being ‘dumb’ but she’s actually like really emotionally intelligent. and she’s a good friend, she tries her best, etc. i also find that she’s very open in general, which gets mistaken for being naïve, but it’s not she just views the good in people rather than the bad (seen especially with santana. like artie insinuating santana’s a bad person and brittany getting defensive, but then britt not holding a grudge against him either bc even though it wasn’t cool, she knows he’s a nice person and didn’t mean it, etc. like people need that patience that she has in her life) but also if she’s particularly upset with something, she doesn’t know how to handle it which like. idk. i find her character very interesting to analyze so. But i also think she’s like funny and relatable so i guess that’s another big reason LOL.

least favorite thing about them?

honestly i can’t think of one???? i’m genuinely stumped here. because either things make sense from a storyline standpoint or it was just like a random thing that happened/a writer being weird thing. so i can’t think of one hffhfhhf

favorite line?

“ugh i love saltwater” i think about this quote literally constantly. i don’t know why it’s always in my mind but. it’s just so solid to me. i accidentally misquoted it as ugh i love rock salt so i say that a lot too ❤️ sunshine twins reference

brotp?

ooooh. hm. i feel like brittany didn’t ever really get to interact with that many people? on fondue for two in s4 i thought her and kitty had fun together so that’s a nice friendship tbh! & i love quinntany a LOT even tho there’s like zero canon content of them istg LOLL they could’ve been such good friends guys i can’t with rib

otp?

this is the brittana blog. it is brittana ❤️ amen. they will forever be my otp. my favorite ship of all time. my soulmates my best friends etc etc my Angels, actually. so

notp?

i neglected to mention this pairing in the brotp section because well i just felt like i didn’t need to mention it twice… SO anyway it’s bram! i dislike them as a ship. but i think they’re great friends and i like them as a friend duo. but in s4 they very quickly twisted it into a romantic thing which is annoying for me but it’s okay. bram friendship is great

random headcanon?

i’ve said it already before iirc but Legos. idk i just know she loves legos okay because i do. she’d give santana a lego bouquet. and also a real bouquet but you know. also i think she’d be a kesha and ayesha erotica fan and i don’t really know why but she would be

unpopular opinion?

i mean is it unpopular to say i wish her emotions were more of a topic of conversation? i wish they didn’t just discard her like they often did and force you to find scraps to figure out what’s going on with her lol. maybe that’s just me and just what i saw but you know. irritated me a lot

song you associate with them?

i’m sure i have several bbut omg. nevermind okay by sunday cruise. specifically for s4 brittany

favorite picture of them?

i have a lot but i think about these ones the most. she is so shakeable here

#thank you for the ask :>#brittany deserved like. so much better now that i’m thinking of it #ask tag #gleeposting

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negrowhat · 7 months

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BL/QL ASK GAME : THE UGLY, THE BAD AND THE WORST

I saw that @bengiyo did this and I would like to participate!

The categories are :

Worst soundtrack / weirdest song choice in a BL

I think some of the background music choices in Love in the Air/Wedding Plan were odd, mostly during SkyPrapai scenes. I think in one scene Itsy Bitsy Spider was playing and in their wedding scene some random ass old song was playing too. And I can't remember which BL it was where a Christmas Song kept playing in the background during random scenes.

Most cringe-inducing line (cute)

Pleum to Kevin: "You're lovely, trust me on that. If you weren't lovely I wouldn't fall for you from the first time we met." The cringe the cheese and he was always saying cheesy stuff like that to Kevin but I ate it up because he was sincere and so up front. We stan.

Most cringe-inducing line (actually bad)

Rain to Payu: "If you don't stop being angry you're going to scare your wifey." I hate how attached MAME is to the "wifey" title for her characters. That scene was cute but that line is just ugh. And the subbers like to translate it as "Darling" but we all know the truth.

Most stupid decision made by a character

Yu Xi Gu leaving to go buy salt for that stupid soup. (History 3: Make Our Days Count)

Worst plot line

Whatever the fuck the step brothers in History 4 had going on. I could honestly move past them being step brothers if every single thing else about their storyline was not so messed up. (History 4: Close to You)

The most problematic show you’ve watched

1000% TharnType and I completely own that shit. TT was a hot ass toxic mess and I ate up every single bit of it.

A show people love but you find bad

Dark Blue and Moonlight. I just hated every single thing about that series. I hated the stupid cheating plot. I hated both of the main guys. Hated the acting. But when that shit came out I remember that people just LOVED it.

A show people find bad but you will defend

En of Love: Tossara. People found Tossara boring and I just loved their lil series. I love Gun and Bar and sure the acting was a little stiff but they gave me such a warm and cozy vibe. They were honest with each other and had relevant conversations and were mostly unproblematic.

A show that is just objectively bad but you enjoyed it

The Best Twins. Like the plot made no sense and depending on which couple was on screen it felt like 3 series in one and some of the acting was not good but it was a funny lil series that featured a ton of our faves before they were our faves. Also fucking THOR??? He's a gem.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were intrigued/fascinated

History: Obsessed, because what the fuck even was that? I had to see how they made it out to the end.

A bad show that you kept watching because you were horny

Waterboyy...Earth looked really, really hot in that one, but my gawd I would never, ever watch that series again. Between them revoking that one girl's lesbian card, the cheating, the sexual assault, and Waii's daddy getting together with Waii's best friend I couldn't stomach it. Highkey glad EarthNew didn't last.

A bad show that you kept watching because of that one character

My Gear and Your Gown. That character actually being the ship PureFolk, because otherwise that series was a total snooze fest.

A bad show that you would still recommend

My Engineer. The series was quite literally a mess and almost felt like a fever dream with it's wacky characters and random happenings with the plot (also some people didn't like the main couple) but the series is so much fun and we were given a gem of a ship with RamKing/PerthLay. It's just a fun series.

The character that ruined a show the most

Fucking Wai in Bad Buddy. I just couldn't stand him outing his own best friend to the whole school. That was so fucking dirty and Pran was still trying to apologize??????? I almost dropped the series after that because I knew he would never apologize and still everything would be forgiven.

Most awful character that you hated

Tita Susan from Gameboys the Movie/Gameboy S2. Plern Pleng from Together with Me. San from TharnType. Lee So Hee from Light on Me. Fighter's daddy.

Most awful character that you loved

Type from TharnType. Ritsu from The End of the World With You.

A character that wasn’t awful but that you just don’t like

Ben from Never Let Me Go. Dome from Ingredients.

A hero that should have been a villain

Theo from Enchante. Waii from Waterboyy. Yeon Seok from First Love Again.

A morally bad character you’re into

Denis from The Director Who Buys Me Dinner.

A morally bad character you’re not into and you wish people would stop being into

The younger step brother from History 4. Day from Love Syndrome 3.

The show that disappointed you the most.

Check Out the Series and Even Sun.

The Worst Show of Them All Because of Your Own Reasons

Dark Blue and Moonlight

#dark blue and moonlight #the best twins #check out the series #even sun #the director who buys me diinner #waterboyy the series #enchante the series #tharntype the series #tharntype #never let me go #ingredients the series #bad buddy #my engineer #history 4: close to you #history 3: modc #en of love

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mae-gi-writes · 2 years

Text

when the words fail . ten lee

Storyline: When your dance teacher decides to pair you up with your best friend Ten as a fun project for the school’s end-of-year performance, you couldn’t be happier. Ten’s your rock, the only person with whom you could trust your body, yourself, your feelings. But this dance brings out the best and worst parts of you, and suddenly, it feels like Ten means so much more to you than what he seems to be.

Genre: college!au, bestfriends to lovers, fluff, comedy, angst and mentions of insecurity and depression

Word count: friggin’ long because I can’t seem to write 1k fics now it’s ALL OR NOTHING.

Song: I Got You - Leona Lewis

————

A place to crash, I got you. No need to ask, I got you. Just get on the phone, I got you.

Gonna pick you up, if I have to.

————

“Love.”

Your nose scrunches up in distaste, “too basic.”

"It's a human emotion," Ten argues.

"It's overdone."

"It's necessary."

"Ugh," you can't help but roll your eyes, "can we do everything but love? We'll use it as a last resort."

He throws you a look as if asking whether you're actually serious, though you're used to it by now; that quirked eyebrow and the narrowing of his eyes. You always think of a cat when he does that, and right now is no exception. A pissed off cat.

"You spend too much time with your cats," is what you answer instead, ducking with a chuckle when he swats at your arm.

What you thought should have been a fun performance to plan is starting to grow into a headache. You're not even sure why your dance teacher came up with such a suggestion. Ten is one, if not the best, dancer of your class. Your entire cohort, even. So why -- out of all people -- has she chosen you as his partner?

"What about Life as the theme?" Ten proposes after a long bout of silence with only the click, click, click of his pen breaking it in small staccatos.

"Life," you lean your head back, stretching your neck slightly, "sounds alright, I guess. But shouldn't we be more specific?"

"So...youth? Like, the beauty of being young?"

"Sure. That works."

Once your theme is cleared, you move on to the logistics; the genre of dance, the music, what costumes to wear. It's all very blurry and unconfirmed, and even when curfew rolls around and you're trudging out of the studio, you still can't register the fact that you're the one who has been given the chance to work with Ten. Alone.

"You're thinking too much into it," is what Ten says when you voice out yout concerns, "Professor Lee probably thinks our styles are compatible."

Sure. Hiphop and jazz, it could work. But still, the skill gap is so obvious that it keeps you up at night.

The only comfort this brings you is that you get to work with your best friend, and what better way to spend the last few months of your degree than with the one person that understands all of you completely?

You try to comfort yourself over that fact, finally allowing the heaviness of your lids to drift you off to sleep.

"Since we're just the two of us, we can make a story out of it," Ten says the next morning during Dance Theory class. You're nestled at the very back and succeed in ducking behind your classmates in favour of exchanging ideas on paper.

Your heads are close, and if you look up you might bump your nose into his temple.

Instead, you keep your gaze focused on the page scribbled in black ink as Ten continues in a breathless murmur, "what are we? Friends? Lovers? Just two strangers who happen to meet by chance?"

"How about just us?"

"Us?"

"Yeah. Us. Our friendship."

Something indescribable flashes through Ten’s eyes when his eyes look up to yours, and you wonder whether yours are giving too much away. What are you giving away exactly? You ask yourself in annoyance. There’s nothing to give away.

Ten speaks before you have the chance to add on to your statement, “I like it,” he scribbles it down on the page in big block letters so that no one would miss it even if they tried, “our friendship.”

It seems that everyone else is more excited about the Performance than you are, asking you how you managed to get on Professor Lee’s good side and whether Ten had anything to do with this particular arrangement. As much as you hate to admit the thought out loud, the more you think about it, the more logical it becomes. Though…why would Ten even want to dance with you if that is his final piece, his thesis, the one stage that will determine where his future his headed?

“You should be happy about it,” Mark Lee says in response to your complaints as you gobble your way through your lunch. The cafeteria is hoarded with hungry students at this time of day and you’re glad you reminded yourself to bring a sandwich from home, “one; you get to work with your best friend. And two, you’ll get good grades for it.”

"Something doesn't feel right," you mumble through bites of your sandwich, "it's like...a sixth sense thing."

"Well tell you sixth sense to back off. You really can't complain when everyone's thirsting to get paired with Ten Lee."

"Maybe Ten doesn't want this."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Oh, I don't know Mark. Maybe because he doesn't want an extra weight on his shoulder?"

"Don't be stupid Y/N. He wouldn't want to work with anybody else but you," Mark takes another bite of his rice and curry, scooping up a little bit of kimchi he'd managed to wheedle out from the canteen lady earlier, "give him some credit."

You try. You really do.

As if to cure yourself of the guilt eating away at your insides, you stay up late mosy nights after dance practice, cooped up in your room in search of the right music to accompany your piece. You scrape the internet for pictures of costumes, wonder whether you could utilize some Chinese elements to your piece, and look over any lights that might amplify the feeling you're trying to convey.

All this information is scribbled into your notebook until the next morning when you have dance class with Ten. Nervousness takes a hold of you as soon as you step in though, and you try not to fidget under your best friend's quick glances when the teacher finally gives you free time to work out logistics.

"I was thinking," you start out shyly, keeping your notebook as close to your chest as you possibly can, "uhm, about the music, maybe we could use I Got You by Leona Lewis or one of Radwimps' songs. Or maybe even Youth by Troye Sivan since we`re working on that theme anyway--"

You realize you're babbling and quickly rush to add, "--I'm sorry, those are just ideas. We can definitely look at more options--"

"Don't go shy on me now," Ten chuckles, making a grab for your notebook and before you know it, he's flipping through the ink-filled pages with such interest it makes you cringe, "oh my god, Y/N. That's amazing. You did all this yourself?"

"I couldn't sleep last night," it's technically just half a lie, "so I thought might as well waste my time productively."

"Goody-Two Shoes."

"Oh shut up--Give that back," you snatch it back with a scowl, hating the way heat spreads to your cheeks, "I'm trying to do my part of the job."

"You're doing more than just your part," his chin rests into his hand, elbow on the table as he grins at you throgh his bangs, "so tell me. Anything else you wanna discuss?"

See, this is what you love the most about Ten. No matter how talented he is, he'll never be one to turn away your ideas in favour of his own. As you spend the next half hour planning out your costumes (Ten thought an autumn color palette would be best) and the story you’d want to tell (you chipped in a part about making it emotional to garner people’s attention), you realize the importance of Ten’s presence in all of this. It’s not that he’s the best at complying nor is he the most creative, but what Ten does is that he brings your ideas together, fuses the abstract into concrete, and gives you so much support you start thinking whether he’s just doing it to be nice.

But here’s the thing. He isn’t just nice. He’s nice, while also knowing what he wants.

You’re so immersed in the subject that you barely take note of the figure hanging over your shoulder until an unfamiliar soprano speaks up from behind you.

"Hey Ten!"

You turn and blink. The woman standing before you is dazzling. All long legs and golden dyed hair drifing down her back in glossy curls.

"Jueun," next to you, Ten straightens in his chair, "what are you doing here?"

Who’s this? Is your first thought. Of course, Ten has a lot of friends. So much more than you do. But none of them have ever stepped foot into his classes. Let alone his godly dance classes. You half-expect Ten to shoo her away with a half-baked promise to get back to her later, but you’re more than astounded when the girl — this girl — merely lets out a soft laugh.

“You’re the one who asked me whether I was free,” she grins at him. And then, like an afterthought, her gaze flits to you, “oh, hi. Sorry. How rude of me, I’m Jueun.”

Jueun — according to the limited, slightly awkward introduction mediated by Ten — is a third-year biology major who’s only focus had been to get into the field of medicine. She’d met Ten at the last Thai committee social and they had been seeing each other casually ever since.

“You’re from Thailand too?” You ask her with a slight frown. Jueun doesn’t remotely sound Thai.

Oh, why do you care?

“My parents are, though my father is half-korean. That would explain my name,” she smiles and it’s so pretty it almost blinds you for a full minute. No wonder Ten appreciates her presence. Any man would be lucky enough to entertain her presence. She turns to Ten then, another playful smile on her face, “I’m gonna head to the cafeteria. We could meet there once you’re done.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

In any other circumstances, you’re pretty certain Ten would’ve made a comment on Jueun’s presence after she’s gone. It’s not like he’s never dated before, you’re used to seeing him with other girls who disappear after a while. And you don’t see how Jueun is any different.

Except, Ten doesn’t even mention her. At all. Instead, he focuses back on the topic at hand; stage lighting, and leaves you in a tightly wound knot of confusion as you keep on gazing at him in hopes that he’d clarify this weird situation.

“So…” you muster up the courage to ask him as you’re busy packing up your bag. Ten is shoving his things inside none-too-gently, suggesting that he is probably going to meet him with this Jueun as promised, “you like her?”

“Huh?” Ten’s head snaps up to look at you.

“Jueun,” you motion towards the space she’d once occupied by your table, “do you like her?”

He offers a half-hearted shrug as you make your way out of the classroom, holding the door open for you, “it’s early days.”

“You’re seeing her?”

“I guess you could say that, yes.”

“Is she nice?”

He cocks his head in thought. In the corner of your eye, you catch a small smile fitting across his lips, “she’s…yeah. She’s nice. I get along well with her. She’s easy to be around.”

Ah.

A rock seems to form in your chest, and suddenly it’s a little hard to breathe. You look away from him, hands unconsciously tightening on your backpack straps as you wonder why it had taken Jueun’s appearance for him to say anything in the first place.

It’s none of your business. You know it isn’t. And you’re not one to pry into Ten’s personal affairs.

So you let it go, bid him goodbye at the cafeteria doors, and try not to think about why your heart aches a little at the thought as you make your way out of the school campus.

————

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry, i’ll be alright

————

“One, two, three, four and five—“

“On five?”

“Yeah,” Ten swings his arms around in a sweeping gesture, the movement as graceful as a swan on water. He rotates his body, adds a spin while counting, “five, and six and seven, eight.”

“Five and six, and seven—“ you try your best to imitate him, though you feel more like an ugly, awkward duckling than a swan. You stumble slightly, lips pursing into a pout, “this isn’t going to work.”

“You just gotta practice,” Ten repeats the movement again, slowly, and you do your best to follow, “yeah, that’s it. You just gotta make sure you hit it on the five, and six, you put your foot down—“ he does, you follow like a newborn fawn, the balance throwing you off, “—and seven, eight.”

The final performance — and evaluation — is in a month and is approaching too quickly for your taste. Late hours had been spent in the comforts of the music lab where you and Ten had sat together, notes spilling out from all corners and coffee cups at the ready for the long night, as you both worked on the melody, choosing each lyrics precisely to the story you were telling, and adding a few beats here and there to allow some depth into it.

Despite your tiredness, those days had been magical, almost pleasurable, when Ten was at your side. He’d bring you snacks from the convenience store whenever he could, managed to stuff a throw blanket in his backpack for the times you’d collapsed onto the couch to doze off. He’d sacrifice his own sleep for yours and instead would click away at the mouse when you gave in to the tiredness and didn’t complain once about coming early to dance practice the next day.

There was a lot of work to be done, a lot of details to be figured out. But with Ten at your side, nothing seemed too terrible or impossible. You’d sometimes find yourself into fits of laughter whenever you got distracted enough by the campus gossip he’d relay to your ears. When you got tired, he’d play loud, exciting music for you to dance to, and when you were both collapsed on the couch after too much staring at the computer screen, you’d exchange soft conversation about your future, about the things you’d like to do once you graduated, about all the places and the people you’d like to see.

“I like it here though,” you’d say to him, shoulders shifting so that it brushed against his. Ten was warm. Wrapped up in the blanket thrown over the pair of you as you leaned against his body, he was the perfect pillow to fall asleep on, “I like being close to my family. I like the simplicity of waking up every morning and knowing where everything is.”

Ten’s head dips so that he can look at you. The warm studio light hits his side profile, causing you to admire his features, “I want to travel,” he murmurs, “I want to work abroad for a few years. Yeah, that would be ideal.”

“Have you started applying for jobs yet?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know what I want to do, specifically. I thought about going into costume design, maybe…” his voice trails off with uncertainty.

“That actually sounds like you. If you weren’t such a good dancer.”

“You can’t make a career only out of dancing, though.”

“Isn’t that why we’re in this program?”

“We’re in this program because we love dancing,” something catches in Ten’s voice then, something you can’t quite decipher, “but just our love for dance isn’t going to get us anywhere. We need to branch out, diversify.”

His words are shocking, for you’ve always known Ten to be a follower of his dreams. You straighten up, look at him as if he’s grown another pair of eyes. He avoids your gaze though, keeps it glued to the blanket he’s started fidgeting with.

“You got into an argument, didn’t you?” Your words are soft, yet hauntingly loud in the silence of the room, “with your mother?”

A pause. Ten’s figure stills.

Then, his head dips into a nod. He lets out a shaky exhale before dragging a hand over his face, “I don’t know what to do,” his voice comes out muffled underneath his palm, “Ma told me I wouldn’t be able to keep dancing forever.”

“You were made to dance,” your hand shoots out to grasp his forearm, “out of all of us, you’re the one who was made to dance, Ten. You can’t just throw that away just because your mother doesn’t agree with your definition of success. And imagine all the grants, the scholarships. You’ll get them all, Ten. What with our final performance—“

And then it hits you.

He might not get the scholarship. Not if it’s with someone like you.

That’s it. That’s the issue.

“It’s me,” you murmur out, “isn’t it?”

Ten’s head whips up, eyes catching yours in surprise, “what?”

“It’s me,” you repeat the words that sound hollow on your tongue, coated with a sourness that makes you want to gag, “I’m the reason why you won’t be able to get your scholarship…isn’t it? That’s what everyone’s been telling you, right?”

His response is silence. But that’s more than enough.

“You’re right,” you swallow thickly. Take a breath, try to continue though your voice starts shaking, “you won’t get the scholarship because of me. But we can do something about that. We’ll focus the choreography on you so that you have more chance. We can do that—“

“No,” Ten’s jaw clenches then, “No. We—No. That’s not right. It’s your performance—“

“And yours,” you counter-argue, “which is why I think it’s fair enough you’re the center of it.”

He’d rejected your idea despite the argument that arose that night, refused to even acknowledge it as a possibility. But you were just as stubborn and willing to give up anything for Ten to get that scholarship that would put him under the radar of the best International Dancers in the world. Heck, he would get master classes out of this, and if he put his name out there, he’d definitely have a wider chance of creating the career he’s always dreamt of.

“We could change the choreography here,” you say while trying out the moves again. Fix, six and seven, eight, “I think you should be the one doing it. I could maybe stay in the background.”

“It won’t look as good,” Ten shoots you a sharp look, “let’s do it together, come on.”

Most attempts up until now had been futile to try and wheedle Ten into taking the centre stage. It’s frustrating, so much so that you end up at Professor Lee’s office one late afternopn in hopes of getting her to influence his decision.

"You know I cannot say anything about that," she looks up at you from behind her wooden desk, lRge and overflowing with papers that seem endless.

"But you agree that him getting more focus would provide better opportunities?"

Professor Lee hums, chin settling atop her hand as she looks at you over the top of her glasses, "Give him a little more credit than that, Y/N. He did ask me to put you with him, after all.”

You blink. “He—He did?”

Professor Lee cocks her head at you, probably confused by your behavior, “yes. He asked me himself. Said that you guys wanted to make your last dance piece a memorable one. Who was I to stop him?”

“But—“ your tongue suddenly feels a lot heavier, your chest suddenly constricting as realization washes through you. So Ten had asked Professor Lee himself, making as though it had been both of your idea, “—but you knew this would affect his grade. You know it. I’m—We’re not even close to the same grade boundary—“

“I’m well aware,” Professor Lee interrupts, “but he wouldn’t hear another word about it. You know how stubborn he is.”

That changes a lot of things. That makes you seething mad.

Who is he to know what’s best for him? What’s best for you? You understand why he’s doing it — he wants you to succeed just as he does. But the anger that pulses through you diminishes your amount of sympathetic reasoning and no sooner you’ve walked out of Professor Lee’s office that you fish out your phone and ram your fingers over your keyboard.

Y/N: Where are u?

The text comes back a few agonizing seconds later.

Ten: Uni cafe. Y?

You don’t hesitate, going straight to the said destination as you try and qualm the sudden overwhelming wave of feelings that are threatening to take over. You hate this, hate the fact that Ten has the audacity to do such a thing behind your back. It’s not just about trying to make it better for you but it’s almost pitiful, the way he’d done it. He might as well be laughing in your face because right now you feel like a complete, blithering idiot.

You’re almost through the cafe doors when you halt in mid-step.

Ten is here, but he’s not alone. Jueun is with him.

Something in your heart cracks.

For a minute, the world seems to freeze on its axis. With only you, and your beating heart. Too loud. Too much.

What are you doing?

You take a step back. Then a second. And then, you’re bolting away and through the campus as a new kind of rage takes over. Stupid, stupid, your brain screams at you like a broken tape record on repeat and your chest seems to constrict and you can’t seem to breathe through the ragged, pulsating blood roaring through your ears. Nothing makes sense as you dash blindly, your feet carrying you and before you know it you find yourself back in the dance studio, breathless and in a sort of daze that makes you slide to the floor.

Wow. You were desperate for Ten's help. But not desperate enough. And yet, he's done the very thing you didn't want him to -- have pity on you.

Pathetic.

A sob crawls up your throat. You lean over your knees, forehead pressed against your kneecaps as you try really hard to gain control of your staggering breaths.

But it's too late. And too much. You start cehing before you know it and you wonder, you wonder whether everything has ever been for nothing.

-----

And when you need a place to run to

For better or worse, I got you

-----

You don't know how much time you spend in the studio, crying your eyes out until your eyes sting and your nose clogs up.

The only thing that takes you momentarily out of your misery is the slow buzz of your phone. You fish it out od your backpack, hesitating upon noticing the caller ID.

Ten Lee.

You roll your eyes, look up to the ceiling to take a shaky inhale, then answer the phone.

"What?" You say as soon as the line connects.

"I've been calling you for ages," Ten's voice is like a knife slicing through the air, "where are you?"

"Studio."

"Wha--Y/N, I was worried sick--"

"I'm not your responsibility, Ten. You don't have to worry about me."

If he hears your bitterness, he doesn't say anything, "stay where you are. I'm coming."

The sound of the door clicking open announces his arrival a few minutes later, but you don't look up from scrolling your instagram feed. You really don't have the energy to face him right now.

You hear his footsteps approaching, "hey," he stops before you, squatting down to your level in hopes of catching your eye.

"Hey," he taps your knee and you look up reluctantly. Worry floods his eyes the moment he spots your blotched face, “woah — you look like shit.”

“Thanks Ten,” you wipe your face using your jacket sleeve. You turn your face away from him, a mixture of shame and embarrassment causing heat to crawl up the back of your neck.

“Tell me,” he nudges your knee once more. Then, his hand grasps it before he sits down cross-legged in front of you, eyes questioning and filled with a softness that echoes his concern.

It makes your chest hurt. And yet, you can’t find yourself to be mad at him.

“Did you—“ the words clog up in the back of your throat as your eyes slide to stare at his scuffed sneakers, “did you ask Professor Lee to put us together? For the final performance?”

His body tenses. He doesn’t answer though.

You laugh. An empty echo of a sound, “I can’t believe it,” you half-mutter to yourself, “why Ten? Why’d you do--"

"I wanted to."

You shake your head, "you...you wanted to dance with me?"

"Yeah. Yeah I did."

"Don't bullshit me," your eyes snap up to his, finally meeting those dark swirls of coffee brown that causes a small knot to tighten at your throat, "why would you? We're not even on the same level, and we--"

"I wanted to and you needed the help."

"I don't need your help!" You yell out so suddenly, the anger finally rising to the surface.

You exhale, inhale, exhale once more and squeeze your eyes shut through the film of fresh tears slowly blurring your vision.

"I don't--" you try to choke out, "I'm not extra weight, Ten. And I don't want to hold you back--"

He reaches for you, "don't say that--"

"I don't need your pity," your gaze snaps back to his despite the tears now rolling down your cheeks, "I don't need you to feel sorry for me. Nor do I need you to sacrifice your future just to--"

"Y/N you're not listening to me," Ten rubs a hand over his face, "I wanted to," he jabs a finger at his chest as he continues, "I wanted to. Okay?"

"But why?" You bite out.

"Because just for this once I didn't want to do something because I was good at it," his eyes suddenly flash and you catch the slow silent torment in them, a black storm raging, "I didn't want to do something just because there was going to be a lot of technique or wow factors or whatever. I wanted to do something of my own, that I wanted to and--and I wanted it to be with you."

His confession is startling, a little shocking even.

You can't do anything but stare at him. He stares right back, dark eyes locked on yours with no intention of looking away. And in it you see the conflict happening; the guilt, the remorse, the need to be understood.

"We could've talked about it," are the words tumbling out of your mouth after a long bout of silence. In the distance, you hear a door slam. Probably a few other dancers closing up for the night.

"You wouldn't have let me do anything," Ten says, "I know how you are."

Well, he isn't wrong.

"We've never danced together, not once since we got here," Ten continues in a soft murmur. He slides up to the wall next to you, shoulder to shoulder, his body so warm you unconsciously inch closer, "so I thought...this would be our last chance."

"But your scholarship--"

"I don't care about a damn scholarship, Y/N."

You allow your head to fall onto his shoulder and a soft sigh escapes your lips. You stay there for a while, the quiet slowly calming you down and weighing down on your lids. Ten’s breathing is a constant rhythm, as is the beating of his heart, and you find that it actually feels comforting to hear him so close like this. It’s nice.

“Tell me about Jueun,” you mumble out after a while.

Ten must’ve dozed off too, for when he speaks next his words are slurred, “what about her?”

“Do you like her?”

You feel his head pressing atop yours, “I like spending time with her. Do I want to go out with her? Yeah sure. But I wouldn’t say I like her that way…yet.”

“Do you think you could?”

“Maybe,” he pauses, “she thought we were dating. I had to explain that we’re just very close.”

You swallow. “Oh.”

There’s something inside you that lights up with that knowledge and the image launches at you so vividly you can’t shove it away quickly enough; you and Ten, walking side by side with your hands interlocked. Him smiling down at you in that crooked grin of his as you tell him about your day, before he pulls your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

You quickly shake yourself out of your thoughts, shivering. Weird, you think to yourself, it would be weird.

————-

Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

————-

Nothing more was said on the matter of Ten having bargained your place next to him with Professor Lee. Instead, you decided to throw yourself entire into the project. Every spare moment you had would find you in the dance studio, going over moves and polishing those that you still found to be a big struggle. Ten would be there most of the time to offer comforting guidance and dancing along to the music with you. His presence, despite not having asked anything of him, was a comforting one, and the more you danced, the more comfortable you felt with those uncomfortable turns and twists of your body.

It happens on a Wednesday evening. You and Ten had Dance Theory in the morning and had grabbed a quick lunch before heading back to the studio, offering sheepish shrugs to the person in-charge as she raised her brows at the two of you as if asking, “you two again?”

“One, two, three and four and five—“ Ten is chanting out as you follow the dance steps, moving in a slow turn using your knee. You turn too fast though, your outstretched hand knocking into Ten’s with as much grace as an awkward duckling.

“You need to take your time with that one,” Ten goes down on one knee to demonstrate, swinging it back and forth as he looks up at you, “see? You use the momentum, not your back foot. Then you’ll have more control over your movements.”

You try it out, kneeling down and spinning around none-too-gently. This time, you turn too quick. Your body crashes into Ten’s chest and you both topple to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs.

“Shit, sorry!” You lift your face from Ten’s chest, before bursting out laughing at his annoyed expression, “sorry Ten, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He groans, hand going to his chin to rub the sore spot, “I think I broke my chin.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. Here,” and you knock his hand away to take over his massage, “better?”

You grin at him, not realizing your compromising position until you feel one of his hands skimming along your waist. Your smile drifts away as he pulls you up with him in a sitting position and it would’ve been all so innocent if not for the fact that you’re currently sitting on his lap.

“Sorry,” you manage to mumble out and trying your best not to stare at the fact that his lips are in touching distance with yours.

Ten gently nudges your hand away then, providing you some space as he leans away from your, tilts his head to the side even, “s’alright. Though I doubt my medical insurance will cover this.”

“I’ll pay you in bubble tea,” you slide out of his lap and dust yourself off, “let me try it again. Don’t stand in my way.”

He doesn’t. And both of you decidedly ignore the slight bout of tension that had sparked a few moments earlier.

It’s normal, you try repeating to yourself as you toss and turn in your sleep that night, dance partners need to have some kind of chemistry for it to work.

Another time, you’re trying out one of Ten’s movement combinations, lying down on your back as Ten circles his leg in a circular arc before he’s crouching above you, “I can lift you up with my hand,” he’s explaining, though you’re suddenly focused on the way his mouth is moving, forming words. You feel his hand caressing the side of your face, slipping to the back of your neck. And then you’re being lifted from the ground and right into Ten’s arms.

“Use your core, Y/N,” Ten chuckles when you flop against him like a dead fish instead of that smooth lift you were supposed to do, “it’ll be smoother that way and you can come up with me as I draw back from you.”

So you agree and decide to try with the music.

You try not to let the music affect you too much, focusing on the power each movement creates. The melody picks up through the speakers and you join Ten in the middle, the pair of you moving side by side like mirror images until you drop your body to the floor and Ten replicates the exact same movement he did earlier.

He kicks his leg back,circles around before dropping to the ground with such fluidity and so much emotion that your breath catches the moment his gaze locks on yours.

His hand caresses your cheekbone, slips to the back of your head.

You force yourself to concentrate, try not to get distracted by the way he’s looking at you.

He tugs you up. You follow in a slow motion until your noses brush. Your hand cups his cheekbone, an impulsive move. But one that works.

You don’t realize you’re breathing hard until the music fades.

You and Ten. Breathing in sync. With barely any distance between you.

Close. So close.

“That feels good,” Ten’s murmur brushes against your face.

“Y-Yeah.”

Your eyes drop to the ground. It’s too much. The tension crackles in the air. Electricity, a warning sign. And you wonder if Ten feels it too.

The phone rings. You both jump, started. Heads turn to the device at the other end of the room.

“That’s probably Jueun,” Ten says before slowly extracting himself from your hold and walking over to his phone. You sit there, allowing the space to let you breathe, to allow your heart to calm down from the sudden ricocheting excitement that’s taken over your body. Heat floods your limbs, the bottom of your stomach, so much so that your palms curl into fists by your side.

Ten’s voice floats through the room but the words don’t register in your brain. That is, until he calls out your name and causes you to jump, “w-what?”

“Put your sweater on,” his lips curl into a smile, “we’re going to a party.”

That is how you find yourself dragged to one of Jueun’s classmates’ dormitories, introduced as Taeyong and who coincidentally is also friends with Mark. It’s eleven in the evening and the smell of booze and smoke fill every single pore of the house as you struggle through a throng of people to reach the kitchen. Goddamn, you only want a glass of water and almost cry out in relief upon seeing the drinks stacked on the table. You’ve lost Ten along the way, not that you mind, for the moment he spotted Jueun, he’d been a gone man. Plus, after what had just happened in the dance studio, you probably need some time alone with your thoughts.

You’re midway through pouring some water for yourself when someone taps you on the shoulder.

You turn to see Taeyong, a cheeky smile curled along his lips and hands tucked into the back-pocket of his leather jeans. Who even wears leather jeans?

“Y/N, right? I’ve heard a lot about you from Jueun. It’s nice to finally put a name to a face,” he holds out his hand for you to shake, which you do after some slight hesitation.

“You know about me,” you say it as if it’s a statement, eyebrow quirking up in curiosity, “how do I not know about you?”

“Well,” he grins wickedly, a mischievous little boy ready to take on a challenge, “you can know all about me tonight, if you want.”

As much as Taeyong isn’t really your style, you welcome the distraction he provides. Soon enough, you find yourself at the pool table playing beer pong along with his friends, cheering and whooping and high-fiving random people you’ve only just met seconds ago. But for once, you don’t care. You want this, you want to escape the sudden need to seek out Ten’s presence, you want to push him out of your mind for as much as possible and if alcohol will help, then so be it.

You’re in the middle of downing another shot of absinthe with Mark — he’d sought you out a few minutes earlier, complaining about how you’d ditched him in favour of Taeyong’s cool friends — when a hand lands on your arm, pulling you back into a solid chest.

A whiff of a familiar scent invades your nostrils. You blink as Ten’s blurry face comes into focus.

“Oh,” you squint up at him, “what are you doing here?”

“That’s enough.”

“Wh—“ you scoff, shake your head as a soft giggle erupts from your lips, “what are you doing, Ten?”

“You’ve had enough to drink,” he takes the absinthe out of your grip and you cry out in protest, “wh—give that back!”

“No,” and without waiting for your consent, he turns away and downs the entire thing, shuddering as he does so.

Mark whines out behind him, “what the fuck, dude? Not cool. We didn’t get to drink together for ages. Why you gotta gatecrash like that?”

“She has her final performance in two weeks,” Ten then makes a grab for your arm, though you struggle and push him away. To no avail, his grip his firm. He tightens it for good measure, “she can’t be drinking this much.”

“Aw come on man—“ Mark’s words are cut off by Jueun’s voice calling out Ten’s name from behind him.

You take this chance to wriggle out of Ten’s grip, for once glad that Jueun is here to provide him some kind of distraction. Glaring up at your best friend as a newfound rage bubbles up through your chest, you shove him away forcefully, “Yeah Ten, you have bigger fish to fry. Why are you babysitting me?”

He winces, “I’m not—“

“You’re the one who wanted to bring me here,” you jut your chin out at him, “so let me be, and mind your own business.”

“I—“

But you’re storming away before he has the chance to say anything else. You don’t want to hear anything more, the tide of emotions wrapping you up in wave after wave of despair and feelings that you yourself can’t decipher. A small sob echoes up your throat as you stumble out into the open air. Your hands reach out blindly, finding purchase on the outside wall as you allow yourself to breathe in, breathe out.

The music is nothing but an echo from the outside, blending in with the distant noise of cars zooming by and other people’s chatter. You clutch at your chest and wonder why your heart feels like it just got punched.

It hurts. Right between your chest. Something that is tearing up, eating away at you from the inside. Memories flash through your mind; Ten’s face, crinkled up in that adorable smile of his, with Jueun in a corner of the room. A picture of what you saw earlier like a permanent scar etched into your memory.

Ten’s eyes, swimming with some kind of softness you can only define as adoration as he looks down at her. You squeeze your eyes shut. The dance studio, him hovering over you. His lips milimeters away.

You can’t stay here. Struggling to your feet, you stagger forward. One step. Two steps. Away from that house.

It hurts. It hurts so much you wish to tear your entire heart out of your chest.

It hurts. Tears are streaming down your face. Fat pebbles of water dripping down your sweater.

It hurts, though you don’t want to think about why it does.

Because deep down, you know exactly the reason why.

You like Ten.

You love Ten.

And he doesn’t love you back.

—————

And if it don’t feel right, you’re not losing me by letting me know

—————

It’s Thursday and you’re currently waiting for the practice room to free itself. Your head is heavy and every noise seems too loud. But still, your nerves are jittery, all over the place.

You haven’t spoken to Ten since last night. And you’re not sure what will be the outcome of this conversation.

You rarely fight with him and that’s because you’re both so non-confrontational by nature that 1) you let things slide easily and 2) you talk it out to clear the air.

But last night hadn’t been the usual bite and snap. Last night, there had been something a little more coiling in your stomach, in the way Ten’s eyes had blazed with hurt.

The door opens. You look up, just in time to see Taeyong striding out. He halts in mid-step, recognition dawning on his face, “hey, Y/N!”

“Hey,” you smile back weakly and wonder how he’s not hungover. Or if he is, he does a good job of hiding it.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” He asks, shifting to lean on one leg as his arms cross over his chest, “Jueun told me you left early.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t…feeling too good.”

“Too much to drink?”

Or not enough. You grimace, “something like that.”

“Also, nice shots,” it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the beer pong game that you won against him and one of his other mates Jaemin, “when can I have a re-match?”

“That depends whether you’ll be hosting another party or not.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow quirks up suggestively, “does that mean you’ll come if I host another one?”

“Depends,” you grin, “what’s the prize?”

A cough. You both turn to see Ten with his hands in pockets, dressed as though he’d just rolled out of bed. It’s even more contrasting when he walks over to stand beside Taeyong who is finely decked in another pair of black jeans and black muscle shirt to match.

“Hey Taeyong,” Ten nods in greeting, “how’s it going man?”

“S’alright, what about you?! Was just talking to Y/N about last night. Did you know she’s an amazing beer pong player?”

“The very best,” you add.

“No,” Ten’s eyes flicker between you and Taeyong, “no I didn’t. Would be nice to see that in action.”

“Maybe next week,” Taeyong glances down at his smart watch, “oop, I gotta go. I have chem lab next.”

You wave at the young man as he jogs down the corridor and waits until he’s out of view before walking inside the studio, Ten hot on your heels, “What was that about?” He asks as you drop your bag on the wooden bench in the corner of the room and proceed to plug in your phone.

You scroll through the list of songs as you ask, “What was what about?”

“Since when were you so chummy with the campus playboy?”

“Since when did you care?”

Ten lets out a loud, exasperated sigh before he walks over to you, grabbing onto your shoulders and swiveling you around so that you have no choice but to face him. He grabs your phone, tucks it in the back pocket of his sweatpants before finding your gaze, “you’re mad.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“You stole my shot last night.”

“That’s it?” He scoffs, disbelief crossing his face, “that’s why you’re mad?”

“And you butted your nose into my business.”

“Y/N, I always butt my nose into your business—“

“You don’t need to,” your mind flies you back to that said night; Jueun had leaned towards him, stealing a small kiss from his cheek. Your chest constricts and you look away, “that’s why people think we’re dating. You do these things that friends don’t do. So just—just stop. It’s annoying. And awkward.”

Your eyes glue themselves on one corner of the studio to avoid the evident hurt that paints his face. Ten’s hold on your shoulders loosen slightly as a distinct pause hangs in the air.

Then, he slowly moves away, “alright,” he mumbles while adjusting his cap, “if that’s what you want.”

It’s not.

But it’s better for it to be this way. Because no way in hell are you spilling your unrequited feelings to him and no way are you going to jeopardize his newly-formed relationship. No matter how many times Ten rejects the idea of him dating, it’s as clear as day in his eyes, in the way he tilts his head more attentively towards her, in the way he smiles so brightly it hurts.

The rest of practice happens in silence, only broken by you asking questions when you struggle with the movements. Ten is patient, explaining everything in detail and holding on to you when you need the support. But it’s clear that there’s some sense of dislodgment, of awkward silence that builds in the space wedged between the two of you. And as much as you miss the familiarity of him altogether, you know it’s for the best to pull away now when the pain is still fresh.

Obviously, Ten does not know a thing about your unrequited feelings. So it surprises you after dance practice as you’re making your way out of the door that he reaches over to grasp the back of your elbow. Light enough that you can pull away, yet firm on your skin.

“Yes?” You cast him a glance. And then, surprise takes over.

Because as Ten meets your eyes, you notice the tears threatening to fall.

“H-Hey,” all semblance of ignorance goes right out of the window as your wall breaks and you rush over to him just in time for Ten to bury his face into your shoulder. His tears are silent crystal jewels sliding down his cheeks and drenching your shirt, but the way his arms find your neck to hug you tight against him is enough to cause guilt to creep in and settle at the base of your stomach.

You hug him back hesitantly, hand smoothing down his back in long, slow strokes, “it’s okay,” you hush into his ear as sobs finally start emerging from the back of his throat, “hey, don’t cry.”

It takes a while for him to calm down, you tugging him to the bench and continuing to stroke his back until his sobs subside into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” you finally blurt out. And as if his tears are contagious, you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder to cry silently into him as you murmur, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just…angry.”

When he speaks next, his voice is hoarse, caught up with emotion, “I’m sorry for overstepping. I didn’t—I didn’t realize that I was being overbearing—“

“No no,” you tighten your hold on his arm, “I was being a sensitive bitch. It’s not your fault. You were only looking out for me.”

“Still,” he blows his nose with a tissue, “you’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Silence envelopes the room, both of you too wrapped up in your own thoughts to see the time passing. You wonder briefly how your friendship has come to this. You’ve never had any bumps where Ten was concerned and these few weeks had been rough. Is it because of your dance project? Were you spending too much time together?

No, that’s not it. The thing is, everything is changing. Too much, too fast.

You’re a bystander watching him fall in love and live his life, and he’s moving on. Without you.

Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you let out another soft sigh before extending your hand out towards him. A tentative attempt at peace, “friends?”

Ten looks at your hand, before extending his own to clasp yours.

“friends.”

And you know that no matter how much you try to tell yourself to stay away, you’ll always be looking for Ten in the crowd.

——————

What’s weird about it, I’ve figured it out in my head.

I have to say, I got you.

——————

“Are you ready?”

You almost snort out your bubble tea, “no.”

It’s a few days before your final performance and you’re in the cafeteria , mourning over your sugared drink and thinking about how your life is about to end with Professor Lee telling you how inadequate you are at dancing.

This is where Mark had found you a few minutes earlier, looking like you’re about to throw up the contents of your stomach.

“Don’t think about it,” he says now in-between bites of pasta, “it’s all muscle memory by now. You’ll be fine.”

The last few weeks after your sudden outburst with Ten had been peaceful, if you don't count the million of ways in which your heart is breaking every time you spot Ten and Jueun together. Sometimes he valls her during your break. Sometimes, you spot them flirting by the corridor. And sometimes, she joins you for a late night snack in the middle of your dance practice.

"You seem very keen on her," you'd remarked to your best friend one evening after she'd gone out to throw the trash.

Ten's ears blush bright pink, though he doesn't say anything.

That's good enough of an answer for you to put two and two together. Their relationship is moving along just fine and every second of it feels like a punch in the gut.

Still, you hold your head high and a fake smile on your face, hating the fact that she's pretty and feminine and smart, and just everything you're not.

And though you still feel the residual effect of that weird tension building between you and Ten during dance practice, you tempt to brush it off so as not to get your hopes up high. Because apart from the intensity in hid dark orbs when he dances with you, it's like an on and off switch that seems to be merely for the sake of the performance.

That hurts you even more.

"So when are you going to tell him?"

You glance up at Mark, sipping on your tea before you ask, "tell who? And what?"

"Tell Ten that you like him--"

No sooner has Mark spoken that your hand shoots out to clamp over his mouth, eyes widening with panic as you quickly glance around the room with fear.

"What the fuck, Mark?" Your eyes narrow dangerously, "don't day those kinds of things out loud."

"I whash vwandering--" you glare at him, before pulling your hand away to let him talk, "I was wondering when were you going to admit it but since you weren't and the performance is coming up, I feel like you should. For your own good." Is what he says before shoving another forkful of pasta in his mouth.

"What are you talking about? Of course I can't tell him," you snap, "it'll ruin everything!"

"Or make everything better."

"You are out of your mind."

"And you are just running away," Mark leans onto his elbow, throws you a pointed look, "c'mon Y/N, do you really want to leave all these things unsaid? I see the way you look at him."

"No. No way. I'm--you know what, I don't even have to answer you right now."

"Ten would want--"

"He would not," you cut him off harshly, "want me to fuck things up for him and Jueun."

And with that, you collect your bubble tea and backpack, before striding away to the dance studio with rattled footsteps and a pounding heart.

No. No no no. Telling Ten is dangrrous. Telling Ten will. Fuck. Things. Up.

God knows you don't need that right now.

The thought of it haunts you though, in the form of Mark’s words. Even when you spot Professor Lee waiting by your dance classroom. Even when you try to focus on the beats of the music flowing through the speakers as you take this time to stretch and warm up your muscles. Ten comes late, closely followed by Jueun’s figure and that almost feels like a knife stabbing straight through your chest. Someone might’ve as well held up a “Here to Hurt Y/N” sign. You quickly swivel away, face the wall, biting your lip as the familiar sting of tears crawl up your throat.

No. Stop it, your mind chants. That’s not what you’re here for.

That’s right. You have a performance to deliver. An artwork to complete.

“Ready?” Professor Lee’s voice pierces through your inner monologue and you look at her, before your eyes find Ten’s who is already walking over to you.

“Hey,” his hand reaches up to tap your nose, “ready?’

You nod. You don’t really trust your voice at this point.

“We’ve practiced this millions of times,” he murmurs into your ear while you both get into curled up ball positions. Professor Lee stands on the sidelines, flicking through the connected phone for the desired song, “don’t worry. Just dance.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble back. Why does Jueun have to be here?

You have half a mind to tell Ten that Jueun needs to get out — you can’t concentrate like this — but it’s too late. The melody begins, a slow thrum that causes your limbs to slowly extend with poetic grace. Just like you and Ten had practiced.

Okay, you think. Focus. You concentrate on the melody, on allowing your body to fold to the words flowing through your song as you kneel and face Ten. His eyes are dark, focused, pinned to yours like you’re everything he’s ever seen. You do the same.

You’re not quite sure how you manage to finish the performance, only realize that it’s over once your forehead presses against Ten’s, breaths intermingling and fingers interlocked and the music drifting away only to leave a silence laden with emotions put on the table. For a minute, no one says a thing.

And then, as if breaking the soft spell that is Ten’s eyes, a soft clap echoes throughout the room.

“Nice,” Professor Lee says, before she beckons you two over. You do just that while trying to catch your breaths and in the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jueun, “still a few things you need to work on. First off, your synchronization at the turns and twirls. You need to be careful of that. And Y/N, don’t forget when you lift your leg towards Ten, you need power. Much more power and resistance, like he’s pulling you and you’re fighting against him.”

You nod. She’s right. As she always is.

“In terms of the technique, I think you just need more practice. It looks good overall though,” she pauses for a minute, then continues, “but Ten, for god’s sake, you need to look at her when you’re dancing. Don’t look as if you’re dancing with a corpse. She’s your best friend, you’re supposed to love her. She’s one of the most important people in your life. Is she not?”

Ten mumbles out something that sounds like “yes”, though he shuffles his feet like a guilty kid.

“So show me that she means that much to you!” Professor Lee exclaims, “you look like you want to be anywhere but here. That’s no good. I wasn’t expecting that from you. Y/N,” she gives you a once-over, then nods, “the emotion are there. Loving the facial expressions so keep that up. Show this man how to do it.”

It isn’t until Professor Lee is out of the room that you manage to let out a sigh of relief, “jesus,” you look up at the ceiling and feel like you’ve just aged ten years, “she scares the fuck out of me.”

Ten doesn’t respond. You glance at him, only to notice his glazed over look as if he’s still contemplating what your teacher just said.

“Ten,” you nudge his arm, “you okay? She’s always a little harsh. Don’t take it the wrong way—“

“Yeah I know,” he cuts you off, “we should keep practicing the techniques.”

Something has shifted in his expression, though you can’t really pinpoint what it is.

The rest of practice goes smoothly enough and Jueun leaves at some point, probably bored with constantly hearing the same music. At some point, tiredness takes over, causing you to flop onto the floor and look up at the ceiling. Your muscles are aching, you know tomorrow’s going to be a battle to get up from bed.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore,” Ten crouches next to you before he flops, head landing on your stomach and causing you to grunt at his weight.

“You’re heavy,” you try to shove him off, hating how quickly your cheeks flush with heat at the close proximity. Ten grabs a hold of your sweater with a pout, “nooo.”

“We’ve got a lot to work on,” you murmur, though it sounds loud in the silence of the room.

“I’ve got a lot to work on,” Ten tilts his head up at you, “apparently I don’t seem to look at you the right way.”

“That’s because you take me for granted.”

“Shut up.”

“Just imagine there’s Jueun in front of you and you’ll be fine.”

A pause. Before he asks, “do you imagine someone else when we’re dancing together?”

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. You lift yourself up with your elbows, enough to catch sight of Ten’s face. It’s hard to say what you find there, since it’s not a face you’re acquired to seeing, “no. I—no.”

“Do you think of Taeyong?”

“I don’t like Taeyong,” you state flatly, “and I think everyone knows that.”

“So who do you think about then?”

“Just—well, you. I guess.”

And then, you realize the weight of the words that had just blurted out of your mouth. You clamp them shut, teeth finding purchase onto your lower lip as you rest your head back against the floor with a mental scream. Oh shit. Have you said a little too much?

You brace yourself for the worst. Ten will either make fun of you, or he’ll just ask you to clarify your words. Eyes squeeze shut on their own accord, as if just waiting for this dreadful silence to end.

But Ten does neither of those things.

Instead he says, “I’m hungry. Wanna get food?”

“Uh—“ your brain backtracks, “sure.”

Looking back at Ten’s questions, it was clear that he was trying to figure out the intensity of emotions flowing through you whenever you danced with him, whether that came out intentionally or not. It’s not like you want him to know you long, yearn for him to be yours. But there are some things — you learn — that cannot be hidden no matter how much you try.

The next few practices feel weird, leave you buzzing for no reason at all. It’s like a switch has suddenly been switched on inside your best friend. Gone are his shy touches and tentative steps to close the gap between you. Ten reaches for you with a confidence now, with some kind of fluid grace that makes you wonder whether he knows what you’re trying to hide in the grooves of your heart.

But it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at you that changes. Every single time your gazes lock, something intangible flickers in those dark orbs, something that causes your heart to do a cartwheel because goddamnit, Ten is hot when he wants to be.

And you hate yourself even more for thinking this way.

When you’re not practicing, you’re at Mark’s house and bribing him into keeping this whole ordeal a secret. He manages to come to some kind of agreement begrudgingly after you swear you’ll treat him to a month full of dimsum, but swears that once the performance is over you’ll have to say something because, as he reasoned, it wouldn’t be fair for Ten not to know.

You have no clue how he’s come to such a conclusion. But that’s good enough, for now.

Meanwhile, you start cherishing every single moment you spend with your best friend. You hug him more often — when you’re taking a break from practice, when you’re all sweaty and use that as an excuse to rub your face on his sweater, when he’s lying in the middle of the floor playing with his phone — and tease him mercilessly about Jueun while trying to ignore every crack in your heart at each word that escapes your mouth. If she makes him happy, who are you to step in their way?

Bubble tea trips in the middle of practice becomes a more frequent occurrence when you start spending even more time in the studio to polish up your moves. Whenever that happens, you find yourselves sitting down at a park bench and gazing up at the stars. One of those rare moments you get to breathe and just exist.

Ten would often entertain you with stories of his childhood before moving here, and in return you’d tell him about yours. You spoke about the food you’d want to eat after the exam, the things you’d like to do once you’re free as birds. He tells you about his wish to travel to Europe and you tell him about your desire to go roadtripping towards the coast of the country so that you can camp out and heal from those four hard years of university.

“We should go,” Ten says, dark orbs glimmering with excitement in the dim light of the park, “we could go with all the boys.”

“With the boys? Someone will be found dead if we do that,” you snicker, taking a few sips of your drink, “Yangyang will probably set something on fire, Winwin will find a way to hurt himself or hurt something, and Mark—“

“Mark will get himself piss drunk,” Ten finishes with a cackle, “oh Mark. What a dork.”

Times like these with Ten are magical. Simple, yet filled with so much of yourself that it fills your heart up, makes you all giddy. You wish you can stay like this with him forever, in that small slither of time where the moment belongs to you, and you only.

Alas, the time flies when you’re not looking and all too soon it’s the day of the final performance. As you lay in bed that morning, feeling all of your muscles protest in unison as you stretch your legs, realization creeps up on you; this is the last time you’ll get to perform on stage as a student. This is your official last dance, with no more to come in the future.

Possibly the first and last dance you'll ever get with your best friend.

Your heart aches at the thought.

Participants are to be prepared at five in the evening, two hours before the show starts. Ten doesn't hesitate to give you a small peptalk as you both peek through the dark curtains separating you from the rest of the world. Other dancers are busy milling about and the sheer amount of them just adds on to the growing stress building inside your tummy, not helping in the slightest.

"You'll be fine," Ten keeps on repeating, unconsciously brushing away strands of your hair. You're both already in your costumes -- basic beige pants and white shirts -- and are waiting behind the curtains, box of chinese takeaways forgotten in the corridor at your feet as you try to stop the flurry of panic from crashing into you.

"I need to practice that twirl," you tell him with panicked eyes, "and that weird pause at the end, we still haven't figured that out--"

"Y/N, Y/N," Ten's hands are quick to grab your wrists, before he gently lowers them to your sides, "you'll be fine. We will be fine. I promise. We practiced this dance every day for the past month. There's no way you can make a mistake."

"Oh don't say that, that doesn't help."

His eyes flash with determination. His hand slips to yours before he gives it a gentle squeeze, "I'm here aren't I?" He says softly, "if you fall, I fall. We're soing this together, hm?"

Yeah sure. Except Ten dances like he's made to and you're just a potato in comparison.

Still, you allow yourself to nod. You really do hope that he's right this time. The last thing you want from this performance is the memory of you falling over onstage. And definitely not with Ten in tow.

"Where's Jueun?" You realize you haven't seen her since rehearsal this morning, glancing behind Ten as if she'd appear by magic.

Ten shifts his weight on his other foot, "she was busy this morning, but she said she'll be there for the performance."

"How is it going with her anyway?"

Something darkens on his face. He looks away, "it's complicated."

Huh. Complicated. That's not a word he uses often. Out of curiosity, you can't help but push, "why's that?"

But as if on cue, the intercom buzzes to warn all dancers to be on standby and all your words suddenly fall short when another wave of anziety surges up through your chest.

You clutch at Ten's hands, "oh god. I'm going to be sick."

"You can be sick after our performance," Ten proceeds to lead you to your standby spot, bowing to some of your classmates on the way, "swallow it if you have to."

"Ew," you grimace, "that's disgusting."

You admit that it does help take your mind off things.

"Don't worry about the steps," Ten keeps murmuring into your ear as you join the line for the stage. You can spot the dim lights of the stage, the silhouettes waiting for your appearance, and the MC for the night already giving thanks to whoever sponsor has helped this night come to life.

Oh god. Oh no. It's happening. It's finally happening. Your knees start shaking and you try to wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. The MC asks for encouragement and cheers follow, filling the auditorium with so much excitement it makes your throat run dry with stress.

“We’re number three,” you hear Ten’s voice near your ear, as if hearing him through a film of glass, “we have some time.”

You nod, lick the cracks along your lips.

You really don’t want to mess this up. If not for you, then for Ten.

“Hey.”

Ten’s hands cup your cheeks, tilts your face up so that you have no choice but to look at him.

“We’re doing this together,” his eyes, a dark storm, makes you shiver, “alright?”

Your head dips into a single nod.

“No regrets,” he says.

“No regrets,” you repeat softly.

“Have fun.”

His forehead touches yours, “exactly.”

You’ve never had him so close and what normally would’ve flustered you to death actually comforts you in this very moment. So you lean into him, closing your eyes to breathe in his boyish scent, the scent of familiarity, the scent of what home means to you.

And maybe it’s the fact that it is going to be your last dance, maybe it’s the fact that you’ll have to carry those feelings to your grave that causes tears to sting the corner of your eyes, but you quickly reach out to hug him close, blinking them away fiercely while hiding into the crook of his neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, snug in your best friend’s arms until you hear the MC’s voice booming across the stage:

“Next up we have ‘I Got You’ performed by Ten and Y/N! Give it up for them please!”

You pull away reluctantly, blink at his one last look of encouragement followed by a small pat on the back, before you direct yourself towards the stage, Ten close on your heels.

“Ready?” He whispers, hand suddenly catching yours. He gives it a squeeze.

You squeeze back, “break a leg.”

————

Dark.

Everything is so dark.

Silence.

Only your breath, and Ten’s, a few meters away.

You feel him standing in position, and you do the same. Your heart beats so loud you wonder if the audience can hear it too.

And then, the melody slowly fills the room and as if on autopilot, your body starts swaying.

A place to crash, I got you

Your leg swings in a circle and you crouch, face slowly lifting to catch Ten’s eye. A golden glow bounces off his face.

No need to ask, I got you

Just get on the phone, I got you

Slowly, as slow as a trickle of water moulding its way through the cracks, everything comes back to you.

Come and pick you up if I have to

The movement, the emotion thrumming through your veins makes adrenaline push your body forward as you slowly give in to the sensation of dancing.

Just figured it out in my head

I’m proud to say

I got you

There’s only you. And Ten. And no one else. His orbs flash to yours, and you dare a small smile.

He smiles back.

And the beat drops.

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright

It feels like flying, twirling through the air before rolling to the floor. Ten follows, hand reaching up to cradle your face. You throw your head back before he’s tugging you and as electricity sizzles between your bodies, you close your eyes to bathe in the moment.

And when you need a place to run to

For better or worse, I got you

Everything comes rushing back. A tidal wave of memories that pull you under; you and Ten dancing in front of the mirror, sharing a laugh. You and Ten talking about life under faint streetlights. You and Ten locking eyes, and the storm, that dark stormy night you find there.

The bridge comes on and you start walking to the edge of the stage, every beat vibrating through your core.

Cause this is love and life

And nothing we can both control

You close your eyes; Ten’s face flashes through your mind.

Those beautiful eyes. The curve of his mouth. The pain of letting him go.

And if it don’t feel right, you’re not losing me by letting me know

Hands grip your shoulders, spin you around.

Eyes burning with tears, you let his arms crush you to his chest.

And just as the crescendo hits, your arms lock around his neck.

His mouth crushes yours.

For a milisecond, you’re startled at his action.

Your heart drops to your stomach, brain freezing up like you’ve just dunked your head in ice.

It’s a good kiss. A beautiful kiss.

A kiss that makes you lose all breath.

The crowd practically goes wild with cheers and shouts that fill the entire room.

And then it’s over.

You’re dancing again.

Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright

Your mind is frazzled even when your body follows theough with the rest of the dance. What the fuck was this? Did Ten do it in the heat of the moment?

Your brain is flooding with questions that don’t make sense.

And when you need a place to run to

For better or worse, I got you

You stand, foreheads pressed together and chests heaving, as your eyes flutter up to find his.

That’s it. That’s the end of it.

An eerie silence. Only broken when the applause suddenly floods the room followed by a few calls and wolf whistles. A series of ‘encore! Encore!’ Make your eyes pound as loud as your heart and as you turn to breathlessly bow to the public, you can’t dent the heat rushing through you at the way Ten’s hand is locked on yours.

You wait though, until you’re past the corridors and until you’ve reached the sanctuary of your audition room before slamming the door shut and whirling around on him with flares nostrils and barely restrained anger.

“What the fuck was that?”

Ten’s chest is still heaving, still recuperating from your performance. He’s looking at you with some kind of emotion you can’t make out and you wonder, for a second, what this means for you. What it means to him.

“Ten,” your breaths come out ragged. You keep your eyes on him, demanding answers, “I asked you what the fuck that was.”

It takes a while before he answers. When he does he sounds weary, “I—don’t know. It was an ‘in the moment’ thing.” A pause that fills the gap for a little too long before he continues, “I’m sorry.”

An in the moment thing. You want to scoff, to hurl something at his face. What does that even mean?

Fury boils through your stomach. What about Jueun? What about everyone who will now think there’s something going on between the two of you? What about your feelings for the said man standing right in front of you and telling you that this didn’t mean anything to him?

What about you?

“I hate you,” your eyes start prickling with tears. Everything you’ve kept inside until now starts pouring over until you see red, “I really hate you, Ten.”

And you whirl around and walk away without waiting for him to call you back.

He doesn’t.

————

“What. A. Kiss.”

“Shut up Mark,” you turn your head to the other side so that you don’t have to look at him, to picture the satisfaction on his face, “I don’t want to hear this right now.”

It’s a shame that you had left right after the performance soon after it ended in hopes of avoiding the crowd. Not that it would help considering that rumours are already flying about like bees buzzing through the air as soon as you left.

Mark confirms that Ten had departed a few minutes after you did and that Jueun was not impressed with the whole ordeal.

You scoff at that, “duh, was she supposed to be happy about that?”

“Have you spoken to Ten since?” Mark decides to ignore your question. He takes a seat at the other end of your couch, jostling your leg in the process.

You try to shove him off with your foot, “obviously not. Why would I do such a thing? It’s awkward enough as it is.”

“So this wasn’t planned?” Mark whistles, leaning back to rest against the couch, “wow. Wow. You guys are amazing—“

“No no,” you scowl at him, “you mean a disaster.”

“Look on the bright side, you got to kiss him—“

“Mark,” your scowl deepens, “do not make me throw my slipper at your face.”

There is no way in hell you could’ve anticipated that kiss and even despite all your rebuttals at Mark’s attempts at teasing, the colour rushing to your cheeks and the way your chest fills up with butterflies proves you otherwise.

You can still feel Ten’s lips on yours, a blissful echo of what could have been, a soft tingling that sends blood rushing all the way to your toes. There are so many things you want to ask him, so many possibilities flourishing in your mind with that one simple kiss and yet, you’re so wary of having your world crashing down on your shoulders because why else would Ten do it if not for your performance?

“Have you?” You ask Mark after some time, albeit reluctantly, “spoken to Ten?”

He shakes his head, “haven’t seen him actually. He literally disappeared off the face of the earth after the show.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, “wouldn’t think so.”

There’s part hope and part fear splitting you down in the middle but you don’t dare dream of what could be. You can’t allow yourself to, because every time you do causes an image of the hurt on Jueun’s face to flash through your mind.

You’re not that girl. You are definitely not that girl.

But what you do need are answers. And something tells you that you won’t get any unless you ask him for yourself.

So it’s a week later that you find your way to his flat, feet shuffling as you try and concoct up the conversation, map it out in your head so that it doesn’t sound as bad. After your last conversation with him, you’re not quite sure where he stands himself.

An in the moment thing.

His words bounce off your skull, terrorizing you with the weight they hold.

You take a deep breathe. Exhale softly. Then reach up to ring the doorbell.

Only for the door to swing open, almost slamming into your face.

“Oh, hi!” Jueun’s voice causes you to blink. Jueun, standing at the door with nothing but a t-shirt that’s definitely too big for her — Ten’s— and a towel wrapped around her petite waist. She blinks back at you in confusion before offering a small smile, “what are you doing here?”

“Wh—“ you don’t even get the chance to ask her yourself when Ten’s voice rings out behind her, “who is it?”

Jueun hollers into the apartment, “it’s Y/N!” Before turning back to you, a grin now bestowed upon her face, “sorry I—I was just about done with my shower. Ten’s in there now. You were looking for Ten right?“ She opens the door a little wider, “do you want to come in?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Someone is up there in the skies laughing at you right now. You feel like a complete, utter idiot.

“N-No that’s alright,” you somehow manage a smile, though it probably looks as fake as it can get but Jueun doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t know you after all, “I—Just tell Ten I’ll swing by later—“

“He’ll be out soon though, I have drinks if you want some.”

“No really,” you’re already taking a step back. And another, and another, “it’s alright. I think—I’ll call him later.”

“But—“

You don’t wait. You dash down the corridor, fly down the stairs like your life depends on it, and don’t stop running until you find yourself in the safety of the bus station. Leaning against the lamplight while catching your breath, you struggle to put all images into one coherent thought as dread slowly pools in around you, wraps you up in its horrifying embrace, stuffing out any hope you might’ve had that Ten felt the same way you did.

You’re not sure whether to cry or to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Your heart hurts. In all kinds of ways. Tugging and pulling and being torn apart as though someone had been tossing it over in their hands before chucking it out of the window. Then, the pain starts to settle like a rock lodging itself in your chest where your heart should be.

It hurts.

You bite down hard on your lower lip. Hard, until the salty taste of blood hits your tongue.

You don’t feel it though. Not when your heart is the one breaking all over again.

—————

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

You can’t help but grin up at the worry dotting Mark’s expression looking like a kicked puppy that just had its bone taken away.

“I’ll be fine,” you swat him playfully on the arm, “and atop looking at me like that. You’re going to see me in a week.”

In a week is your graduation and the day of results. You haven’t spoken to Ten over the past two weeks that have flown by and had merely asked about him through his circle of friends in hopes of scraping by with some crumbs you can try picking up with both hands.

You wonder if Ten is thinking of you as much as you are thinking of him. Everything you’ve built up until this very moment had been raw and true and felt real at least to you. The question lies in whether it had been the same thing for him or if it had all just been a fogged up lie, whether he still thinks there are things that he should’ve kept to himself despite the fact that you’ve known him for so long.

In an attempt to rid yourself of all these stupid feelings you’ve tried burying in the grooves of your heart this past month, you’ve agreed to fly out to visit your mother on the other side of the country. A little peace and time away from the university is never a bad thing after all. You’ll be back in time for the results, although you’re not quite sure how that will turn out when you and your best friend aren’t on the best of speaking terms.

“Have fun at your mom’s,” Mark’s arms wrap around you in a soft warm hug, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, “and don’t worry too much about Ten. I wouldn’t. You know how—“

“Yes Mark,” you pull back to offer him a small smile,”I know.”

All too well, you want to add. But you don’t dare say it out loud.

Bidding Mark one more goodbye, you give him one last hug before making your way inside the airport to check-in. It’s bustling at this time of day, filled with students going back home for the holidays or families flying in on vacation, but you find yourself humming under your breath as you go stand in line for your luggage, the good vibes finally catching up to you. For the first time in a while, you allow your shoulders to fall back and relax as you take in the bustle and the noise shuffling around you. It’s been so long since you’ve actually spent time admiring, observing your surroundings that you sometimes forget the beauty of simplicity, of living life just as it is when it isn’t confined to all your inner problems.

And then, as if karma really wants you to suffer,your phone chimes. You glance down and almost gasp at the name flashing across your screen:

Ten: where are you?

Anger flares. Boils through you. How dare he, after all this time, now come around to ask you how you’re doing?

The hypocrite.

You type back your reply with barely restrained anger: I’m leaving today.

His answer comes almost instantly.

Ten: I know. Mark told me about it.

You swear you’re going to strangle that guy the next time you see him.

Y/N: That’s none of your business. And it’s too late anyway.

With that, you lock your phone and drop it back into your backpack even when you feel another buzz vibrate through your jeans. You’re not about to give him that satisfaction of knowing that he still has you hooked around his finger even if deep down you’re all too aware that you’re whipped for him. So whipped you’re so tempted to drop everything to run back to him, to make things good again, the way they always had been.

No. You shake your head in hopes that will clear every toxic thought invading your head.

Thankfully, you’re next in line to check-in and that’s enough to take your mind off the pulsating device throbbing through the material of your backpack and seeping into your jeans. Your fingers, itching to make a grab for the said device, curl onto the folds of your passport as the worker quickly ushers your luggage through the weighing machine roll.

“Thank you. Your gate is E7 and you will just have to check through security at the very back if you turn on your left,” she motions towards the said area and you nod, thanking her with a small smile before slipping out of the queue with another loud breath escaping your lips. God. You need this vacation to start already, or you’ll have to start finding other things to take your mind off—

Strong hands grip your shoulders. Whirl you around so fast you barely have time to blink.

Only to come face to face with none other than Ten Lee in the flesh.

“Wha—“ the words are knots that tangle up your tongue. Your mouth feels like it’s suddenly been filled with sandpaper, “what—what are you doing here?”

“Stopping you from leaving,” Ten is breathless, sweat dotting his hairline and chest heaving as if he’s just sprinted over. His bangs are disheveled and you want nothing more than to run your hands through his messy locks. Your hand curls into a fist in response as he continues, “where are you going? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” You scowl back, “I thought we weren’t on speaking terms, considering you were ignoring me and all.”

“I wasn’t ignoring—“

“Oh please Ten,” you roll your eyes, “as if you didn’t know I came to your house that day when Jueun opened the door.”

“Wai—What? What are you talking about?” His confused expression seems all too genuine for it to be an act and gathering up the last bit of patience you have left, you allow yourself to exhale shakily, try and coax your emotions to simmer down, “I came to your house. Two weeks ago. Jueun answered the door and the rest of was self-explanatory—“

“Jueun? When was that? That’s— I don’t remember her being here—“ realization suddenly dawns and you feel like scoffing in satisfaction. That is, until he says, “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there when Jueun was, Y/N.”

“Bullshit. She told me you were in the shower—“

“Yeah, in the dance studio. Not home,” his eyes had turned dark, stormy. Something inside you starts trembling as you watch his jaw clench, “she dropped by to fetch her things. That was the last time I saw her.”

There’s a distinct pause where you try to assimilate everything that had just come out of Ten’s mouth.

There’s surprise. Shock. And then, all the missing pieces start coming together.

“Is this why you haven’t called me at all, all this time?” Ten’s question bursts your bubble of thought. You blink, realizing that he’s standing before you in the flesh with something soft and tender in his gaze that makes your entire body light up with heat.

He takes a step closer. You take a step back. Amusement flickers across his face, until it is wiped out by your statement: “well you haven’t bothered calling me either.”

“Yeah, because the last thing you told me after the performance was that you hated me.”

“You said our kiss was just an ‘in the moment’ thing. How do you think I’d react?”

“I don’t know Y/N,” the frustration in Ten’s voice is clear. It’s probably the first time you see him so out of sorts. It surprises you, “what was I supposed to say? That I’ve been trying not to kiss you from the moment we’ve had our evaluation with Professor Lee? That my interest in Jueun just flopped the moment I realized I didn’t like her as much as I loved you? What—What did you expect me to say, Y/N?”

Silence. Only broken when you mumble, “well. This is clearly enough.”

It’s probably his words that render him red-faced and embarrassed, for he looks away and starts mumbling intelligible words under his breath without real meaning and in that particular moment, seeing Ten looking so lost and bearing his heart out to you with such genuine emotion makes your own heart quake in your chest.

Ten likes you. Just as you like him. He loves you. He’s been thinking about you, and that in itself causes a troop of butterflies to suddenly erupt through your insides.

You don’t even think about it as your hands come up to grab his t-shirt before pulling him in.

Your lips press against his. They’re trembling, but the warmth from Ten’s mouth is enough to boost your confidence.

His breaths, small stutters of air between your parted lips, make you press even closer if that’s possible. You kiss his next breath away and relish in the soft gasp that echoes out of his throat.

Warm hands slowly cup your face, trailing down your neck to drop at your waist while yours find their resting place by his jaw. You feel him kiss back, the softest movement of lip against lip, and you swear you almost lose it.

‘Y/N,” he breathes, voice drugged and hoarse, against you, before he proceeds to take over the kiss and kiss you a little deeper. You’ve kissed before onstage, but this is completely different. It feels completely different. You can’t help but sigh as Ten pulls you inevitably closer, tilting his head to the side as your mouths start moving together in a slow, hesitant dance that makes you tremble.

This. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Ten, in your arms. You and him, with nothing but your feelings out in the open, bared over the table for both of you to see. There’s some kind of soft glow of warmth that seems to seep through your veins the more you keep on kissing and kissing as if your entire life depends on it, and out of impulse you tighten your grip on the back of his neck, fingers sliding up to cascade through his dark locks. You hear him groan out softly in response, and that causes you to smile into the kiss.

You pull away after a short while upon realizing that you’re still in a public area, foreheads resting against each other and sharing the same breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats with more emphasis. And maybe it’s the mood, the fact that you’re in his arms and that allows him to let out a small laugh. You join in too and wonder briefly how stupidly in love you both look, like those main actors in sappy romance movies. Not that you can care.

The airport speaker suddenly breaks the spell when your flight is called for boarding. You almost jump out of the skin as realization pours through you.

“Oh shit,” you let out another laugh,”I have a flight to catch.”

That only makes Ten tighten his hold, “when will you be back?”

The desperation in his voice causes a grin to break across your face. You lean in, cupping his cheek with your hand, “I’ll be back next Sunday.”

“Okay,” he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, “I can wait that long.”

He accompanies you all the way to the security line and just before you walk through the sliding doors, tugs you back by your pinky finger with that sort of guilty look that little boys would give their mothers when they were found out with their hands in the cookie jar.

You look up at him with a grin. Although, you’re not sure your grinning has stopped ever since that kiss, “I will be back. Don’t worry—“

“I know I know,” Ten lifts your hand to his lips, presses another kiss on the back of your knuckles, “I’m just beating myself up for being such an idiot.”

There are still so many things left unsaid between you, so many things to unpack about your relationship and where you want to take it from there. But standing in front of Ten right now makes nothing but happiness glow through your skin, through the grooves of your heart. It finally feels right, everything falling in place like it was meant to be, and the grief that you’d been carrying around all his time has suddenly vanished as if there had been a clear blue sky all along.

“I’ll come back to you,” you smile up at him when he’s tugged you once more into his arms, “I promise.”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, “I’ll hold on to that promise so you better not break it.”

“See you soon then?”

Ten pulls back then, searches your gaze for a long minute in silence. And then, as tenderly as a soft caress, he leans down to drop another kiss on your mouth.

“Come back to me.”

————

A/N: Hello and if you’ve reached the end of this story, thank you so much for reading this till the end!! It’s a long and a tough read and honestly I practically had a writer’s block for 1 month over this thing. This was supposed to come out end of June but ehhh, life happens I guess!! Anyway, I hope you liked this and I am forever grateful, as always, for your support. Thank you so much for reading my work and for following my blog. I might not know all of you, but every single one of you has made my day a little brighter every time I come onto here. It feels like home.

Stay safe and see you in the next fic!! Xx

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kmze · 2 months

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Thoughts on 3x01-3x11, lol I WROTE SO MUCH but this season (especially this half) has so much happening it's kind of impossible to not have a lot of thoughts. This is also where the show starts to embrace being more comedic (like this show is really a dark comedy at it's heart) so that helps. More characters being involved in the supernatural business also helps and up-powering Tyler is great for the plot IMO. I don't think Klaus was as strong of a villian as Katherine was last season (he is so whiny in the first half) but he started to get a little more interesting after he came back, maybe he just needed his hybrid minions to become more interesting. More below, I even broke it up in episode order!

3x01

Isn’t Elena’s birthday in June? She said Ric spent half the summer on the couch but that would mean it’s gotta be late July early August, right? (don't know why I'm even trying to make sense of this show's timeline)

I forgot that A Drop in the Ocean was played during a montage and included Forwood sexy time! What a moment. When I first watched the show the Stefan and Elena scene at the end is when I actually started shipping Stelena, it was the first time I really felt like they truly loved each other (song helped too because WHAT A SONG I always sing-a-long). I didn't feel that same buzz this time though, but maybe too much time as passed (and that damn scene in 6x02 saying this was when Elena fell in love with Damon takes a lot away from my old feels). I'm getting such a buzz from Forwood though!

3x02

Elena’s getting on my damn nerves with this stupid rescue mission in the woods during a full moon… I don’t understand how Ric and Damon agreed. I fail to see any reason for this nonsense plan.

3x03

The moment in the 20s flashbacks when Stefan is looking at Rebekah while Klaus is talking to him and then he turns and looks at Klaus with the biggest heart eyes I have ever seen him use how am I supposed to not ship it? The way they keep using "brother" to hide the extremely heavy gay subtext too I S2G. If this show was made 10 years later on a better network with better writers that subtext would be straight-up text! Think Louis and Lestat on AMC's Interview with the Vampire. In that just world I would have gotten canon Klefaroline dammit!

3x04

Caroline is a much better person than I because she's protecting her Dad meanwhile I'm counting down the episodes until he drops dead.

Stefan is really off his game (happens when he's too emotional about something) I cannot believe he got out-manipulated by Rebekah one of the most easily manipulated characters on this show. Pathetic really.

As soon as Beremy started being cute the writers start fucking it up for Bonnie. Makes me madder watching it all over again and how much they never give Bonnie the devoted love interests like Caro and Elena. And I like Jeremy and Anna but I’m so annoyed at this whole storyline in how it’s treating Bonnie I can’t even enjoy it. GFY Julie.

3x05

Completely forgot Bill Forbes taught himself how to resist compulsion (IDK why too it's a big plot point oops) and I can't believe none of these idiots bothered to learn how. I like to believe Caroline did and there's a class at the Salvatore Boarding School that teaches it.

The gym buzzer countdown was a nice touch lol.

3x06

I like that Rebekah narrowed in on Caroline and was like “you, I want your life” because she sees the vision and the potential! In all seriousness though I wonder if Rebekah having an interest in Caroline is why the writers picked Caroline to be the love interest for Klaus (since it parallels with them and Stefan in the '20s). Things that make me go hmmm.

I'm with Ric and Caroline, every time I see or hear about Damon and Elena I was to scream "stop molesting her!" UGH! He is always invading her personal space and it annoys me! The part where Elena said Damon needed to use his charm to distract Rebekah and Ric said "better luck finding a dagger" and you see Caro in the background laughing was the best.

Kinda happy to get a break from Klaus for a few episodes, he's just so one-dimensional during this time period and frankly annoying.

3x06 made me laugh so much even though I'm not sure I was supposed to laugh as much as I did. I mean Ripper Stefan is never not funny (a jerk but a hilarious jerk) but the scene were Ripper Stefan and 1,000 year old Rebekah are sitting in Ric's HIGH SCHOOL HISTORY CLASS just kills me, like what even is this show. Also laughed at Tyler being a "d-bag" baby hybrid, and you knew he was sired as soon as he didn't want to help lock up Stefan. HA!

Um, how did Rebekah get into the Lockwood mansion?

3x07

How did Lexi make Stefan think he’d been bleeding out for years? Is that a vampire power they just never used again or is it a special ghost power? I don’t remember this ever happening again.

Caroline fighting the ghost-vamps in her ballet flats lol the cutest!

3x08

Elena dealt with Ripper Stefan for like an hour and was like "absolutely not, Damon you do it" LMFAO which reminded me of the gifset that made everyone mad.

The Defan convo in 3x08 about Stefan always saving Damon for the bajillionith time even without humanity reminds of the convo in Damon’s head in 8x10 a little. This is a good season for them if I remember correctly, obviously I always enjoy them more when their causes of contention aren’t solely about Elena.

Elena making the Beremy breakup about herself, she really does have a gift. Even Bonnie was like really?

Bonnie ignoring Jeremy and giving him a death glare 1000% BB you deserve better you brought his ass back to life and lost tons of witchy power doing so he deserves to feel like shit!

3x09

Oh this is the first time Tyler and Caroline get into it about not including each other in schemes. This is kind of always a cause of conflict in their relationship but it’s a good cause of conflict because it makes sense. Tyler has a pack mentality (werewolf/hybrid) whereas Caroline is more independently driven (vampire). Like Caro said so much supernatural boyfriend drama.

Elena stabbing Rebekah in the back with the dagger is one of her best moments (even if I RME at her “I care too much” moment after).

3x10

Elena giving Tyler shit for being sired to Klaus (something he has no control over) is pretty funny considering what happens to her next season... insert well-well-well-how-the-turntables.gif.

3x11

Stefan’s spin decapitation of one of Klaus’ hybrids in front of him is so extra, I love it.

The symbolism of Elena “crowning” Caroline is not lost on me. Neither is Klaus forcing his way into Caroline’s house through the doorway.

Yeah the Wickery bridge scene was rough, no one knows how to psychologically torture/traumatize people quite like Stefan does.

Lines that made me laugh:

Bonnie: You think you're bored? My dads family is like wet paint that never dries. (oh I’m saving that one!)

Stefan: You’re into Tyler now, huh? That’s kind of fickle. (He's the worst but the comedic timing is *chef's kiss*)

Stefan: We should all listen to Elena, right? I mean, her plans always work out so well, don't they? (I’m saying! Damon agreed too LMFAO)

#tvd rewatch #tvd spoilers #forwood for ts #stelena for ts #beremy for ts #S3 rewatch #3x01 - 3x11 #I started using ship names to make it easier so trying to cover my bases #not like I have any idea how tumblr really works #k rewatches tvd

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wikiangela · 1 year

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himyf 2x11 - episode thoughts:

Val's whole engagement thing is so funny 😂 I can't wait to see how it unfolds haha

and Sid's going to see Hannah! I hope we see her, I miss her

this is so fucking weird and awkward, and I've never been this invested in Sophie's storyline 😂 I'm loving it 😂

okay, Ellen and Charlie's commentary is amazing 😂😂

Sid and this lady bonding on the flight and talking about the difficulties of long distance relationships (which is reasonable and very understandable ofc) is making me worried, pls don't break up Sid and Hannah 😭

Sophie fucking jumped out of the window oh my god 😂 this is her best episode (and lowest point 😂)

HE'S HERE!!! and immediately hilarious, "recovering serial womanizer" speech is amazing 😂😂 this whole concept is so ridiculous it's almost too much (but not quite yet 😂)

okay, so the book has a love song for Sophie, I mean, it's not anything surprising really 💁🏻‍♀️😂

and Robert is not her dad - I didn't think he would be, because they wouldn't go there lmao but this whole thing was still hilarious 😂 😂

aw, actually Barney is the perfect person to talk to Sophie about her dad, they were kinda in a similar situation

awww Barney talking about his daughter 😍😍 this is cute

(tho he talks in a kind of weird almost robotic way wtf is happening)

Hannah's here!!! (what was that smile when the plane girl followed Sid??! I'm worried, I love Hannah so much, I don't want them to break up 😭)

that Robert thing was short lived and I'm glad 😂 I don't know how much longer I'd be able to stand those sideburns ugh

I think I'm lowkey interested in Sophie's quest to find her dad, I'm curious

so that's the episode - and I loved it, it was so good, maybe not the funniest, but it had its moments, and a lot of story progressed

this half of the season was good, so much better than s1, it had its ups and downs but it really feels like they found the show's footing by now, and it seems like it's getting better

I'm genuinely enjoying this show now 😂

#himyf #himyf 2x11 #how i met your father spoilers #how i met your father #himyf spoilers #himyf season 2 #episode commentary #thoughts while watching

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momobani · 2 years

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FALL INTO YOUR EYES

If Your Winter Is Hard - Chapter 7A - 13.2k

medium!exorcist!jeonghan x exorcist!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST [series is medium!minghao x exorcist!reader but this chapter is from the POV of the reader’s sister, basically it’s a related chapter but not necessarily relevant to the storyline I guess]

Warnings: exorcism(duh!); discussion of ghosts + demons, mention of food, mention of parental neglect, A N G S T, also fluff <3 (suggestive)

Sum: one look from Jeonghan and you knew you’ll love him for the rest of your life.

A/N: Surprise!! Thought you’d seen the last of me! Lol I really wanted to show some of the relationship between the sister and Jeonghan and I thought it was worth giving it its own chapter but there’s also a couple of other things I wanted to show from the sister’s perspective. Mostly fluff but also prepare yourselves and proceed with caution for the last segment. (also I refer to our main character as her little sister, I was trying to avoid it but it was kinda inevitable oof).

Song rec: Title reference to Rock With You - Seventeen. Also The Loneliest - Maneskin (it’s their newest song and when I heard it I was like dhfshdfhajf I have to tack it on here lol).

TAGLIST: @sleeplessdawn @aceofvernons @lilactangerine @kyeomsworld

One: ~ 8 years ago ~

“God, he’s so hot, what the actual fuck.” You hear your friend scream in your ear as the sound of the crowd pierces your brain. The spectators are going wild, howling, screaming, jumping about. Fine, it’s a sports event, it’s exciting but goddamn it’s a college soccer game. It’s not exactly the big leagues.

You try follow her line of sight but there’s too many players on the pitch.

“Who is?” You ask. To be fair to the players, they were all pretty good looking, but as your eyes scour the field you catch one particular player that sticks out even from a distance. He has a head of long hair tied up in a pony tail and a red band on one arm. That must mean he’s the captain right? That’s probably why he stands out.

“Ugh, can you please keep up, YN?” Your friend shakes her head in exasperation. “I told you we’re here to look at Jeonghan.”

“I thought we were here to watch a soccer game?” You quip sarcastically. “Anyways, who’s Jeonghan?” You look over the names on the back of their jerseys but obviously it’s their family names and you give up immediately.

“‘Who’s Jeonghan?’” She mimics you, completely exaggerating. “He’s my future boyfriend, duh.” She says, like it’s obvious. You were starting to regret letting your aunt talk you into showing up today. You’d rather be curled up with a demonology book or hanging out with your younger sister.

“You know, hon, as much as I would like to add telepathy and clairvoyance to my list of skills, I cannot.” You sigh, finding the idea funny since you already had abilities beyond your friend’s imagination.

“Clair-what?” Your friend screams back, never tearing her eyes from the pitch. She doesn’t seem to actually want an answer but as a protest, you’re going to give it to her anyway.

You turn to her, ignoring the game in favour of educating her. “It means-”

“Oh my god! YN!” She yells. But it’s too late.

You feel the impact on your head but you don’t know what actually happened. You cringe in pain, rubbing your head where the object had landed and you start swearing. Unfortunately, unfaithfully to the myth, the swearing does not alleviate your pain.

You do however see the soccer ball rolling away from you as everyone around you stares at you, their attention completely absorbed by the spectacle of your almost concussion.

You notice a figure headed in your direction, seemingly having run into the part of the field the crowd was standing at. It’s the arm band guy with the hair.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks, stepping towards you and searching your face. You can’t help but meet his eyes as he assesses you. He has really big eyes and they glint in the sun, alive with the mirth of playing and the adrenaline flowing through him. He’s slightly sweaty but barely out of breath. You don’t want to admit how hard it is to tear your eyes away from his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug it off, the pain still stinging your head but you don’t want to stall the game. “Go back, don’t worry about me.”

“That looked like a pretty hard hit, let me take you to the nurse’s office.” He insists, already tugging on your arm to guide you away from the pitch. You find your legs complying for some reason. You glance back at your friend and she’s shooing you away to go with him. The crowd is already bored with your incident and goes back to cheering on the game.

“Are you sure you can go? You’re the captain, aren’t you?” You ask him as he steers you toward the main building on campus.

“They can do without me. Besides, I don’t know what you saw from that, but it’s my fault you got hit, so I’ll take responsibility.” He says. “I’m Jeonghan by the way.”

You almost trip over your own feet in shock. He was Jeonghan? You check the back of his jersey and it says reads ‘Yoon’ with a number 4 on it. So that’s the guy your friend was creaming over? And you just left with him? You were never going to hear the end of that.

“YN, nice to meet you.” You say, not sure if you meant it. Your friendship might end over this, who knows.

The two of you walk on in silence. You weren’t really sure what you do in this kind of situation. Your life experience lacked in the socialising department and you blamed in on your family’s occupation. Nobody wanted to hang out with the weird kid, not that they of course ever figured out what was weird about you.

Inside the main building you follow the corridors on the first floor to the left wing home to several offices, including the nurse’s one. Jeonghan opens the door and holds it for you and you discover it empty.

“Ah, well, that’s inconvenient.” He sighs, hands on his hips. “We’ll just have to wait until the nurse comes back then.”

“I’m telling you, I’m completely fine, we can just leave. Go back to your game.” You stand by the door, hoping he’ll rejoin you but instead he parks himself in one of the waiting chairs and pats the one next to him.

“Sit down, you might have a concussion. Better to check.” He reasons. You resist the urge to roll your eyes because he does have good intentions but you would much rather just go back to the game, or better yet, home. You’d had enough of soccer for today (and for a life time).

“Don’t you want to play your match?” You ask, sitting down since there’s no sign of him budging in the slightest, ignoring how the close proximity of the chairs leaves your leg ever so slightly touching his. It was kind of cramped around.

“I’m not too desperate to keep running around, I’m just coming off of a knee injury, so playing half might be better.” He explains.

“Oh,” you say, the realisation dawning on you. “So there’s something in it for you too. Right, and here I was thinking you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart.” You tease him jokingly.

“What are you talking about? I’m just practical - killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.” He shrugs. You don’t contain the smirk that appears on your face. You want to sass him further but you catch a movement in the corner of your vision.

Your eyes flit toward the movement immediately, vision strained toward the far side of the room. You suck in a breath through your teeth, shocked at what you see.

Floating above one of the medicine cabinets is a ghost.

Its grey aura is shimmering in the air of the office and you notice the immediate drop of temperature in the air as the ghost of an old man in what looks like a construction uniform as he edges away from the cabinet.

You keep yourself as still as possible, thinking that you need to keep up appearances for the sake of Jeonghan who’s sitting next to you, unaware of the spirit joining in the office. You had to assume you were working with someone who was oblivious to the existence of ghosts so the most pertinent evasive manoeuvre you could think of was to give a reason to leave the room and distance yourselves from the ghost.

Yes, that was a good plan of action. But how? You were thinking on your feet, scanning the room for anything to give you a clue. Your eyes settle on a water dispenser across the room that has an empty bottle on top of it.

Perfect.

“Hey, I’m thirsty, how about we go-” you start to say, getting Jeonghan’s attention -

Then losing it completely as his gaze slipped past you and looked over to where the ghost was, his eyes suddenly alert and panicked. You froze in place.

“Oh god, not again.” Jeonghan mutters, closing his eyes, shrivelling into himself. You watched him for a moment, realising that he definitely saw the spirit. He sits, breathing in and out, his mouth barely moving as he repeats the words ‘go away’ like a mantra under his breath.

“You saw it too?” You ask, glancing behind at it so see if it was any closer. It hadn’t moved.

Jeonghan opens his eyes, blinking rapidly a couple of times. You can’t help but notice how pretty his lashes were. You snap out of it, as he turns to you. The bravado from the pitch is gone, the cool guy confidence too, and you find the fearful vulnerability ridden over his features.

“You mean you see it? That?” He nods towards the spirit. Oh, he definitely has the sight. Poor guy. He must have had it rough. You don’t need to think twice to know that the chances of this guy being a medium are quite high; most men who could see ghosts had those abilities.

What are the odds of you meeting him and finding that out, you wonder vaguely in the back of your mind.

“Yes, that’s a ghost. You’ve seen one before, right?” You ask. Jeonghan pales, suddenly speechless.

“Y-yeah, a few times.” He admits, clearly unsure what’s going on.

“Have you ever been possessed?” You continue questioning him, keeping an eye on the ghost - it seems to be getting closer. There’s a flicker of recognition on Jeonghan’s face but it fades just as quickly. That’s all the answer you needed.

“What does that mean?” He asks. You make a split second decision since it would take too long to explain. You grab his wrist and stand up, dragging him with you.

“No time to explain, where’s the nearest kitchen?” You demand. Jeonghan is on his feet, a little unsteady like a baby deer caught in the headlights.

“What the fuck?” His face scrunches up in confusion.

“Answer the question, wise guy.” You press.

“Across the hall. Staff room.” He says mechanically.

“Right, quick.” You pull him away towards the door and out of it, checking behind you. As you suspected, the spirit follows slowly behind. It must have sensed Jeonghan’s energy - clearly, he must have medium abilities.

You speed down the hall and somewhere along the way Jeonghan starts leading you since he knows which door to open. You start to wonder why the ghost hadn’t possessed him in the office. What could it be? You don’t recall seeing any protective talismans on Jeonghan, nor did he give you the impression he knew anything about the situation.

So why?

You feel a cold breeze across your legs and look down at your jeans, ripped at the knees.

Of course.

You were touching. You had your protective talisman on, your ring, so you were protected and since Jeonghan was in contact with you, then that must have extended. Right? You’d need to look into that properly once you got home since you weren’t certain, but the idea seemed plausible.

No time to theorise further, you had to make sure it didn’t possess him and ward it off to be exorcised properly another day. It didn’t look like a vengeful spirit thankfully but the fact that it was hanging around a nurse’s office didn’t sit well with you.

You burst inside the kitchen and you look around, where could it be? There’s several cupboards in the tiny kitchenette and you sigh in frustration - you’d have to open all of them.

“What now?” Jeonghan waits for your instruction. Clearly he knows what’s good for him and that you’re in charge here. It gave you a suddenly flash of satisfaction.

“Don’t let go of me unless you want to get your ass possessed by that ghost. Got it?” You ask.

“Okay.” He obeys immediately.

“We’re looking for salt, open every cupboard and search.” You instruct.

You start with the nearest one, each of you using your free hand to open them and rummage around. Jeonghan uses the hand whose wrist you’re holding to slide open a drawer and shut it when it appears full of crockery.

It takes you another at least thirty seconds to find one salt shaker in this godforsaken kitchen and it’s one of those tiny ones that doesn’t hold anything. You were a little fucked. Your plan wouldn’t work after all. You’d wanted to draw an isolation for Jeonghan so he could stay safe while you warded off the spirit but clearly that tiny ass salt shaker wasn’t going to make a dent.

“Change of plan.” You say, grabbing his hand and switching over so he was the one holding your wrist. That way you could take off the ring from your finger, its carnelian crystal vibrant against its silver band, and offer it to Jeonghan. “Put this on.” You say. He frowns but accepts it.

“Just for the record, I’m not usually this easy.” He grumbles, putting it on. “I like to be taken out to dinner first.” He says resolutely.

“In your dreams, smartass.” You reply, your words lacking bite. You feel the heavy feeling of dread settling over you and you know the spirit is close. Your breath frosts in front of your face when breath out. “Stand over there.” You say over your shoulder, pointing to the far side of the kitchenette; that should be far enough.

You were a little nervous as you waited for the ghost to appear. It floated through the wall and you steeled yourself. You hadn’t done this before, only practiced the ritual a few times with your aunt, one time even attempting to practice it on your little sister but she didn’t take too well to that, sneezing and glaring at you when you threw the salt at her.

You unscrewed the cap off the shaker carefully as not to spill it and exhaled. You started whispering the correct incantation to ward off the ghost, repeating the several phrases expertly. It seemed to be working because the ghost hesitated as it was floating towards you. Once you said it twice over, you threw some of the salt at the ghost, aiming for its transparent figure.

When the salt makes contact with its sheen of energy, its aura wobbles a little, its shimmering fading in spots. This looked about right, so you kept chanting and spraying it with salt. You checked on how much salt you had left, worried it wasn’t enough, but the ghost was already barely visible, almost completed faded.

Within a few more seconds, it disappeared completely. You sighed in relief. You were so glad that worked; you didn’t have any other ideas. Or more salt. You chucked the empty salt shaker onto the counter top and leaned against the cupboard, catching your breath.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Jeonghan breaks the silence. You’d forgotten he was there for a moment. You turn to him, seeing him wide eyed with amazement.

“Oh boy, where do I begin?” You wonder out loud. You definitely owed him an explanation, you just hoped he’d believe it.

The two of you wander to the roof of the building, sitting and watching the sun set while you explain in details exactly what this meant. All of it; seeing ghosts, the abilities to be possessed by them and to exorcise them for mediums and exorcists respectively. Jeonghan listens quietly but you can see the cogs turning in his brain.

“You never knew, did you?” You ask him. “What you were seeing, I mean.” He purses his lips for a second, then shakes his head.

“Not really. I usually thought it was my imagination and there was something wrong with me. I would lose consciousness and regain it and have no idea what happened.” He admits. “No one else saw them, so I assumed it must be me that was messed up.”

“Well, now you know. You’re not alone.” You catch his eye for a moment and feel something squirming in your belly when he stares back. “Like you’re not special. There’s other people who can do that too.” You add for good measure. One side of Jeonghan’s mouth quirks up, amused.

“I assume there’s others who can do what you can do too.” He retorts.

“Yes, there are. It’s a craft that gets passed on through teaching the next generation.” You state, as a matter of fact.

“So, do you think I could do it too?” He catches you off-guard. You look at him, sceptically analysing his face.

“As in, be an exorcist?” You clarify. He nods. “Hmm, it’s not impossible. It would be quite dangerous since you’d be prone to possession whereas other exorcists aren’t. The majority of exorcists don’t have a medium’s possession abilities, which means they can get their job done more easily.”

“But I could learn, right?”

“Yeah, you could.” You were starting to feel the direction Jeonghan was veering off to. “It’s not common to get exorcists who weren’t born into it though, you’d be a minority. Besides, if you have the ability to see and be possessed by ghosts, most people go for being mediums.”

You spied a mischievous glint in Jeonghan’s eyes when he trained them on you.

“I’m not most people.” He says. “I want to learn; can you teach me?” He inquires.

You had to admit you were impressed. He was unwavering as he asked, no trace of the shaky, Bambi-esque Jeonghan you’d witness earlier. You wondered what he could possibly want with being an exorcist.

“I’m not sure I can, since I’m learning the craft myself, but I could talk to my aunt. You’d have to be approved by the Council too.” You explain. “Why do you want to be an exorcist, anyway?”

“I want to know how to rid the world of ghosts so we can all live more peacefully. There must be a lot of them out there, just wandering around.” You watch Jeonghan look out to the horizon over your campus. The dying light of day shines in his eyes, setting his gaze on fire. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone to live their life in fear.” He says.

You consider it for a moment. There’s something heavy in his tone, and you know immediately he’s talking from experience.

“That’s a good answer. You know, exorcism is about ferrying souls to the next world. It’s a responsibility to the dead as well as the living, even if we treat it as a craft. So you have to be diligent and work hard, can you do that?”

“Yes,” He looks over to you. Your eyes meet and there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “I want to do it.”

“Alright,” You nod, taking it in. “Then I’ll get back to you on that, Jeonghan.” The taste of his name on your lips feels like a new dawn, the promise of what’s to come permeating the crisp morning air.

The irony of your intuition is not lost to you since the sun has just set and here you are thinking that this might be the beginning of something important, maybe a pivotal moment in your life.

“Thanks. I’ll see you around then, YN.” Jeonghan says to you with a lazy wave of his hand and leaves.

That evening, you get back home, your aunt is cooking something that makes your mouth water before you even descend the stairs into the basement and your little sister is scribbling away at her homework on the kitchen table.

“Hey, kiddo!” Your aunt greets over her shoulder as she throws in some spice. “How was the game? Did your school win?”

You stop suddenly, hit by the reality - you had no idea what on earth happened with the game. You and Jeonghan had left with about a half hour of the match remaining. You hadn’t found out the result, but presumably Jeonghan had. You’d exchanged phone numbers, but he hadn’t bothered to tell you how it ended.

“Uh, I don’t know.” You say truthfully. Your little sister looks up from her workbook and gives you a stink face of confusion.

“Did you fall asleep or something? How do you not know who won?” She asks, as if you’re the most incapable person she knew.

“I suppose the players made more of an impression than the match. I go to one game and don’t know the score - obviously soccer and I weren’t meant to be. Guess that’s fate.” You answer, shrugging. That seems to aggravate her and she rolls her eyes at you.

“Yeah, aha, okay, you kooky old lady.” Your aunt makes a noise of objection, the way a parent might but let’s it go after a second because she’s too busy trying to make the sauce edible. “And don’t use that word lightly. You know how powerful fate is. Don’t even joke about it.”

You thought about the gut feeling you’d had on the rooftop while talking to Jeonghan. Could your baby sister be right? Were you overthinking it and attaching more meaning to it than necessary? But what were the odds of you ever meeting a medium who was willing to be an exorcist at a college sport event?

“I don’t know, it felt like fate though,” you hum. She raises her eyebrows at you, clearly detecting something in your voice and you clear your throat. “You wouldn’t get it, kiddo.” You say, then ruffle her hair. “Let’s eat!”

Two: 7 years ago

Before you knew it, the weeks rolled by, you started hanging out with Jeonghan more and more, your aunt eventually agreeing to take him as a mentee by your side. Your little sister took to him too, the two of them hitting it off fairly quickly and for some reason it had made you glad.

You started to fall for him, slowly but surely, each day bringing new feelings that you’d never felt before. The weeks became months, and you were undoubtedly in love with Jeonghan.

The soup you were making was almost ready and you were stirring it mindlessly as you listened out for the front door opening. You were supposed to go on a study date tonight with Jeonghan, since he’d had soccer practice earlier. It was not like an actual date but just studying together, although deep down you were a little disappointed it wasn’t like that.

You didn’t know why your little sister was running late from school but you were starting to get worried. You’d only had a few classes that day too but since she was still in high school, she got home later than you. It was coming up to dinner time and your aunt was still out investigating something for an exorcism so you were in charge.

But you didn’t want to be late for your date with Jeonghan.

You pour some steaming soup into two bowls, leaving enough in the pot for your aunt when she returns from work, then you hear the basement door open and shut. Your kitchen door was basically never closed, mostly since your other doors were thick, so the noise from the hallway itself carries easily.

“Hey, kiddo-” you start as your sister comes in but stop yourself short when you see her. She’s drenched from head to toe, the rain soaking her to the bone. “Yah, what the fuck happened?” You start fussing over her, helping her take off her jacket and put her bag down. You pick up the hairdryer from the chest of drawers adjacent to the table and untangle the cable.

“Being a freak happened.” She huffs.

“What?”

“I just - ugh, let me get dry first, I’ll tell you in a minute.” She reaches for the hairdryer but you shake your head since her hands are still wet.

“Just stand there, I’ll do it.” You tell her, making her turn so you can start drying.

It’s sort of therapeutic, drying someone else’s hair. You can feel her visibly start to relax a little under the gentle heat of the machine.

You sit her down finally at the table and make her have some soup first before talking about her day.

“So, tell me what happened.” You prod. She sighs and swallows the sip of soup down.

“There was a ghost at school,” She starts, tensing up again. “It turns out that it had retained its voice but obviously other people mostly don’t hear it. And I forgot what I was doing and I started talking to it. Then everyone started calling me crazy and laughing at me.” She closes her eyes, clearly annoyed at the situation.

“Oh, sweetie,” you sigh, sympathetic as it became clear what the problem was. You’d had your fair share of it too, growing up, people laughing at you when stared into space at something they couldn’t see and wondering what you were looking at.

“After that I ended up doing some investigating on the ghost and walked home in the rain.” She explains. “It’s just so stupid, I know I should be more careful but like people suck. What if there was another reason I did that? How can people be so cruel?” She shakes her head.

“Well, it’s not something else, it’s the sight.” You lament. “And we’re stuck with it.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to go to school tomorrow, everyone will chat shit behind my back.” She looks down at her soup, a small frown playing on her lips.

“Welcome to ‘Being a Social Outcast’ 101. This is how we were destined to live, those of us ‘blessed’ with eyes that can see.” You scoff at the idea of being blessed. You look at your little sister sulking at her soup. “Hey, cheer up, we can be weirdos together, kiddo. Me and you, what do you say?” You bring a hand up to her cheek and pinch it slightly to get her attention. She side eyes you but makes no move to brush you off.

“And Jeonghan too?” She asks.

Uh oh. Jeonghan.

The question catches you by surprise and you remember you were supposed to meet him at the library soon. You glance at the clock and realise you’re running late.

“Shit,” you say under your breath. “Uh, yeah, whatever, I need to go.” You tell her. “Finish your soup!” You say as you get up to go and stop by to kiss the top of her head. “Be good, kid!” You call as you leave, grabbing your coat and bag, practically running. You hear her grumble something incoherent that sounds like she’s sarcastically talking back but you’re already half-way out the door, running into the night to meet Jeonghan.

Three: ~ 5 years ago ~

Time doesn’t wait for you to catch up with it; it flies on relentlessly.

Before you knew it, you graduated university and you took over your aunt’s business, her retirement taking none of you by surprise. Jeonghan became a part of you and you a part of him, the two of you a complete set when you were together, and your little sister was suddenly already graduating from high school.

It had been after about a year and a half of being friends that Jeonghan confessed he was really into you, the word ‘love’ almost slipping out of his mouth but you could see he was nervous to say it. So you did it for him, sincerely and happily, telling him that you loved him so.

That had opened up a whole new realm of life that had been locked to you. You went through a lot together - like finals, getting qualified as exorcists in the Council, Jeonghan’s attempt at a part time job as a mascot outside a chicken shop where he almost broke his ankle trying to break dance so you made him quit much to his disappointment - but actually being a couple was a completely different thing.

For the most part, you tried to keep it low key from your family, unsure about how they’d react, though you were pretty sure your little sister knew what was going on from every suspicious look she threw over her shoulder.

That wasn’t really something that you cared about since you knew eventually you’d have to tell her. It could wait though, the basis of your and Jeonghan’s relationship wasn’t something that would affect her that much since the two of you were together regardless.

Besides, you had bigger fish to fry.

When people picked hobbies, they usually picked something that was fun and interactive, like baking or maybe playing tennis, whatever. You on the other hand had picked up demonology.

You’d picked up a book on the subject years ago at the Hong residence and supply house, their massive library entrancing you the moment you stepped foot inside. Your friend Joshua had been surprised that’s what had caught your eye but he’d been supplying you with titles for a long time to keep your avid interest satiated.

Your book shelf filled quickly, your fascination sometimes bordering on sick, but you couldn’t help but turn the pages, your hand gripping the book as you read intently.

You’d introduced Jeonghan to it after you’d both become qualified as exorcists, the two of you spending quiet evenings lying around, each absorbed in a book plucked off your bedside table. Your other dates included doing exorcisms and going out for dinner, y’know, normal things. But you enjoyed sharing your knowledge with Jeonghan - he had a big brain to keep up with you but a bigger heart for humouring your fancies.

Eventually you told him why it fascinated you so much, the excitement of danger aside; it was the idea of being an elite. You were ambitious, competitive, you had dreams of being the best exorcist in your lineage, which to be fair to your family, was a little bit ambitious - your lineage had produced some great exorcists.

Your family was one of the older exorcist families around in the industry. Some families’ lineage had cut off since some people didn’t have kids so either closed their offices or sold them on to another family to run.

Your ancestors were incredibly skilled, responsible, passed on generations of knowledge and experience, though you had no actual records of any elites among them. You were sceptical that for all that time no one had ever come across a demon or dipped into demonology but that discovery had spurred you on to delve deeper and see where this could take you.

You were headed to the Hongs’ residence for supplies, the first since your aunt had retired and you were excited to go with Jeonghan. You realised though, that your little sister had one of her final martial arts classes before she quit so she could focus on studying for finals and you, of course, as the elder (read: user of the family car) had to go pick her up and leave her home where you’d hope you’d find her in two days time when you and Jeonghan returned.

You parked in the nearest available parking spot and decided to go get her from the studio since you couldn’t sit still, your legs jiggling impatiently. Indeed, stretching your legs before a long drive was a good idea. So you nipped inside the studio, wandering in the corridors where several parents were waiting for their kids to finish up their classes in the different training rooms.

One particular scene caught your attention and your legs slowed down of their own accord. There was a mother with her toddler in one of those baby carrying harnesses, waiting outside for her older child it seemed, and she was smiling so widely at her baby, the warmth in that smile radiating all the way to you, where you stood still, your face wistful.

Your parents had never taken you to your extracurriculars, let alone anywhere.

A few years after your sister was born and it was confirmed that both of you could see ghosts, they left you with your grandparents and aunt, moving you away from the town you were born in. It was a few hours away, that’s where they’d been hoping to raise the two of you, away from all this, hoping that neither of you had the sight just as your father had been spared but the two of you were born like your aunt - blessed and cursed.

They weren’t necessarily bad parents in your opinion, though others would beg to differ, but sometimes you wished things had been different. Maybe because it was in those moments that you missed them; as the older child, you’d got to spend more time with them and get used to them so when they brought you to your family house, you’d been the one to feel their loss more than your sister, who was probably too young to remember.

She openly resented them and didn’t care that they’d left you - perhaps acting stoically for your sake so you didn’t miss them too much either, though it had occurred to you that the reason she didn’t miss them is because instead, she’s had four other people care for her, including yourself, and had never missed the love that would have come from your parents. They did visit often, especially when you were young, but when you were both teenagers, they’d cut down on their trips, citing their own ageing as the cause.

You couldn’t remember the last time the four of you had been together. Maybe it was-

Crash!

You’re briefly aware of your own movement before you feel the collision’s full force and you’re falling down. Something thumps down and spills on the floor next to you, and you gather your senses immediately, scanning the situation in a nanosecond.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You say blindly before you’ve even realised what’s going on. Better start the apologies early since it was most likely entirely your scatter-brained fault. First, you notice the cardboard box and its spilled contents on the floor - a number of trophies, medals and coloured belts adorn the floor in front of you. Second, you see the owner of said box and his shocked face.

You’re met with a tall, gangly bean of a boy, around your sister’s age probably, staring at you with startled eyes. It takes him a second to snap out of it and he starts to help you up. You’re surprised by the strength of his grip as he pulls you up effortlessly since on first glance he still appears to be a bit of a shrimp. (A very adorable one that you instinctively felt like you have to protect - you can’t help your big sis senses tingling.)

“No! It’s okay, it’s not your fault, I couldn’t see where I was going with the box. I’m sorry.” He says hurriedly, his eyes flitting around everywhere but not meeting yours. You find his shyness cute and you smile reassuringly.

“Not at all, I wasn’t watching what I was doing. Here, let me help you.” You say as you crouch down and start to pick up the contents of the box off the floor. The boy folds his long limbs and joins you, depositing things in the box haphazardly. You pick each medal and trophy up carefully and you wonder why he isn’t doing the same. Then you realise how many there actually are, each one a shade of gold, silver or bronze, the trophies engraved to a Xu MH. He had too many to care about every single one.

“Wow, did you win all of these?” You ask, genuinely impressed by the quantity. He must be one of the more talented kids around here, unlike your little loser sister (not her fault, you loved her anyway). He perks up at the inquisition, nodding sheepishly after a moment.

“I did.” He confirms, but he doesn’t look too proud or happy about it, if anything, you sense something a tad sad in his expression. You wonder what that’s about.

“Ah, that’s great. You must have worked really hard. It shows a lot of dedication.” You say, trying to be friendly and not let him wallow in whatever it was. “You know, in this world we need more people who are strong like that and use their strength for good.” He raises his eyes from the box to your face, assessing what it is you’re trying to say.

“We do?” He tilts his head to one side, the action puppyish and childlike.

“Of course we do!” You say as you place the last belt inside the box and get up again. “It’s tough out there, kiddo. You can support yourself and the ones you love with your strength and dedication, don’t underestimate it.” You tell him. You feel that it comes out too cryptically, but you’re thinking of that mother - the dedication and strength it takes to keep her kids safe and your own family, your aunt and sister in particular, supporting each other where you can. Something made you want to say this to a complete stranger but you had no idea why.

There is the possibility that to the boy, you sound like one of those old witches giving riddles to the young in exchange for a dragon tooth or lizard’s tongue, but you hope he’ll understand when he’s older.

He gives you a half-smile, still mulling it over as he picks up his box again, heaving it up into his almost spindly arms. “I guess you’re right.” He says. “Goodbye.” He nods politely, and makes his way around you and out of the studio.

“Bye.” You reply as you watch him leave, worried that he might drop the box again since it looked quite heavy. You wondered if anyone was going to help him, but he appeared to be all alone as he trudged away and out…

Four: ~4 years ago ~

The older you got, the less you felt like celebrating your birthday. Jeonghan had talked your ear off to do something special for it since you had the day off from any exorcisms or investigations, but you insisted that you don’t want anything big. You knew you’d have a meal with your sister, maybe your aunt too if she came to visit from the tea plantation, but besides that you begged Jeonghan to just hang out at his place and warned him not to do anything crazy.

He took your word for it like the good boyfriend he was, obediently picking you up when you said you’d woken up and were ready, and bringing you to his studio apartment. He detested the tiny box he lived in, vowing that he’d move out some day and get a nice place with several rooms and an actual separation between the kitchen and bedroom. You nodded reassuringly, encouragingly even, pitying his dreams of impossible real estate ambitions because you were too well aware of the economy right now.

“I like your tiny box apartment, you know, it’s not so bad, Hannie.” You tell him when you arrive. He’d been grumbling about having to go to the laundromat instead of having his own washing machine at home. You sat down on his bed since the only other seating was around the kitchenette counter and the chairs were occupied by clothes and the groceries you’d just bought together.

“You like it ‘cause you don’t live here, babe.” He replies with sigh, opening the fridge to deposit the food you weren’t going to eat. “If I get a bigger place I could just get a roommate but then again, it would be difficult explaining what I do for a living to anyone.”

“You know, that might not be necessary,” you say absentmindedly, thinking that maybe one day, Jeonghan could move in with you and your sister, like if you ever ended up getting married- “Woah.” You say out loud. Maybe it was too early to think about that, even though you were completely certain that you loved Jeonghan more than your own life, you were both still very young and it would probably be years until he felt comfortable to ask. Or maybe you could ask-

“Woah what?” He asks you, his head semi-stuck into the fridge while he Tetris-ed some vegetables into the tiny drawer.

“Nothing, I, uh-” you look around desperately for a good excuse. “I just thought I saw a bug.” You conclude quickly.

“Where?” Jeonghan jumps out of his skin and bumps his head on the edge of the fridge and yelps in surprise.

“Hannie! Are you okay?” You spring up from the bed and take two steps to reach him, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to straighten him up safely. He unfolds himself and rubs his temple with one hand, surveying the possible damage. You bring your own hand up, brushing the skin there gently to see if there was a bump. You feel a little guilty for making that up, but maybe he would have gotten more injured if you told him you were thinking about marriage.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” He says, trying to go back to his fridge organisation. You shake your head, zeroing in on the slight redness over where his head had made contact with the fridge.

“You got a little something there.” You narrow your eyes at the tiny red splodge. Jeonghan focuses on you and watches you as you fuss.

“Alright, can you kiss it better?” He says meekly, as if testing the waters. There’s a hint of mischief in his voice but for the most part he’s asking shamelessly as you might expect him to. You pout, taking your time considering the request.

“I guess I could,” You sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. He liked being cringily shameless and he knew you ate it up because you just loved him that much. He lowers and angles himself slightly towards you expectantly. You roll your eyes before stretching and planting a smooch on the spot.

“All better now, thank you, my dear.” Jeonghan straightens up, satisfied.

“Yoon Jeonghan, seriously-” you shake your head. “It’s a good thing I love you.” You laugh, reaching around him to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He hums in satisfaction and encircles your waist, bringing you flush against him before you kiss, your mouth molding to his softly. You anticipate it by now, the way your heart flutters every time the two of you kiss, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less surprised when it happens.

Jeonghan kisses you lovingly before pulling away and making you sit down on the empty one of the chairs.

“I know we said nothing big, but I just wanted you to have something special for your birthday.” He says after a moment, already rushing around and rummaging through a drawer.

“Yah, Hannie…” You whine, knowing it was useless. When he made up his mind to do something, Jeonghan was going to follow through every time no matter what it took. It’s one of the things you liked about him most since it was something that you knew you would do too. You had your principles and you liked to do things your way, for better or worse.

Jeonghan pulls out a box from the drawer. It’s a small box; not quite as small enough for a ring but not bigger than maybe a simple necklace and that’s what you think it might be, since you’re sure you’d never discussed marriage before and you know Jeonghan wouldn’t put you in that position. However, as he presents the box to you, suddenly you’re not sure it’s not a ring and you freak out internally.

“Wait-” You say, eye shaking slightly. Jeonghan sees your apprehension and guesses what you must be thinking. The smirk on his face appears before you can think of what to say next.

“Hey,” He says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “What are you thinking, YN? ‘Cause if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking then think again.” You blink, just about following whilst your head starts to spin.

“It’s not?” You ask, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible. Jeonghan frowns.

“Don’t sound so disappointed - you haven’t seen what it is yet.” He switches to whining, putting the box in front of you the table. “Happy birthday, YN.” He kisses your hair and waits for you to open it. You lift the lid of the box carefully and stop abruptly.

Inside the box is a silver bracelet with four charms, each one a tiny carnelian gem carved into a heart and secured within the silver weave of the chain. It was delicate and gorgeous and you knew that Jeonghan had been planning it for a long time since he had to source the protective talisman part of the jewellery first.

“Oh, Hannie,” You gush as you pick it out of the box.

“Do you like it?” He asks hopefully, shifting his weight forward and backward in anticipation.

“I love it! Thank you, baby.” You lean and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, catching him by surprise. “How did you find it?” You ask, motioning for him to help you put it on.

“I asked Joshua if he could make it and it turns out he’s pretty good with his hands. It’s pretty much all his work, I mean I helped design it but other than that it was all him. See, the charms are you, me, your sister and your aunt.” Jeonghan explains.

You look at the bracelet closely, noticing that each crystal charm was delicately outlined by more silver, the shape perfectly fitting together. You had to acknowledge Joshua’s handy work, it was better than a lot of the other handmade jewellery you owned. You turn back to Jeonghan, who’s also admiring the bracelet.

“You did the most important thing; you had the idea and put your heart into it.” You smile down at how lovely the bracelet sits against your skin, the cool metal slick over your warm wrist. “Thank you, Hannie, I really love it.” It’s your turn to be a little cringy as you pucker your lips and wait for a kiss, which he happily obliges you with.

Now you had another protective talisman and your boyfriend by your side, you felt unstoppable.

“Okay, let’s have some cake, I got you candles, let me just light it up-” Jeonghan deposits the cake from the opposite counter to the one in front of you. The cake was your favourite flavour, the same one you get every birthday, a tradition you’ve had for many years even before you knew Jeonghan but he’d become a part of it as he celebrated with you every year.

He placed a trio of tiny pastel coloured candles on top of the cake and reached into his pocket for his lighter. It was the one that he carried with him everywhere on exorcisms since he usually took care of the incense lighting. You’d grown to love the little zippo lighter, its familiar daisy design indented into the smooth metallic surface.

“Make a wish, babe.” Jeonghan says when the candles are ready. You close your eyes and think hard; what could you really wish for? You had everything you ever wanted and everything you ever needed in your life. There was really nothing more you could wish for.

As you blew out the candles, you wished that everything could stay like this forever…

~ a few moons later ~

“You’re doing it wrong, oh my god.” Jeonghan whines as you spread the butter over the baking paper.

“Yah, there’s no other way to do it, it’s fine like this.” You argue as you keep smoothing the stick of butter against the surface. Jeonghan sighs.

“Alright, it’s not like either of us is competent, we’ll just have to scrape it out of the tub later.” He shrugs.

“Hey, will you relax? Nobody will be scraping anything. This thing isn’t sticking to anything any time soon.” You reassure him as you keep going, incessantly patting the butter over the parchment.

“Eh, even if we have to dig it out, I still love you.” He says. You roll your eyes but lean back into the back hug that Jeonghan gives you, wrapping his arms around you. You hum, leaning back against him, not quite admitting defeat but also not disagreeing anymore.

In a minute you’ve got your banana cake in the oven and a timer set up, knowing that you’ll have to guard this baked good with your life if you didn’t want it to burn.

“We have time to kill, what do you want to do?” You ask him, watching as he stacks the freshly washed dishes on to the rack by the sink.

“I don’t know, but I might have an idea.” He says, drying his hands on a tea towel. You’re not sure what he’s talking about but he catches you off guard, turning around and whisking you up in his arms, planting a huge kiss on your lips while you giggle in surprise.

You kiss him back, smiling against his lips, immediately on board with the plan.

Jeonghan walks you backwards, your back hitting a counter top where he rests his hands, effectively trapping you in. What started out as a sweet kiss, now spins out of control as you find your mouths locked together, your tongue in Jeonghan’s mouth while he presses his whole body into yours.

You break off breathlessly, still chasing his lips even though you need to take in air and fill your lungs again.

“I love you,” Jeonghan breathes against your mouth, pecking the side of your mouth, his eyes half-closed, dazed and completely lost in the moment. “Always.”

His words make the corners up your mouth turn up automatically, your heart fluttering like a butterfly in your chest.

“I love you too,” You reply, your nose brushing his face gently as you try to capture his lips again. “Forever.” You whisper before kissing him again. The warmth erupts in your veins, your skin heating up with the excitement of being so close to Jeonghan.

You keep making out a little longer, saying flirty and non-sensical things in between kisses.

“Your cheeks are so red, you look like you’ve been attacked by a blusher.” He says, after you’ve broken off to check on your cake for a minute.

“Oh yeah?” You ask half-heartedly. “Your lips are so red, you look like you’re wearing the latest shade from Valentino. You should dye your hair to match, it’ll be a fun look for you, darling.” You retort.

“That would be your shade of lipstick, sweetie.” He leans down to catch your eye smugly. You purse your lips because you know he’s right - you’d forgotten you had put on lipstick not that long ago and you hadn’t really thought too hard about what the consequence would be if you made out.

“Well, it’s not like you were complaining about it before.” You shrug.

“I wasn’t complaining, sweetheart.” He says, his voice dropping low before he catches your lips again. Somewhere around the house you can hear a door slam and for a split second you let yourself get lost in the kiss before your brain kicks into gear and you realise it’s probably your sister.

“Shit, Hannie, what if she walks in?” You pull away quickly, trying to listen out for her footsteps padding across the hallway. Jeonghan however just moves his mouth down to your jaw. “Hannie!” You hiss, unable to hear anything over the noise of the oven working.

“It’s fine, kiddo’s not a baby, she’s old enough to have her own boyfriend.” He mumbles between kisses. You feel like putty in his hands, melting from the kitchen’s heat and Jeonghan’s touches. Your brain clouds over once more and you put aside your brief worry, your lips sticking to Jeonghan’s again. You couldn’t hear anyone coming anyway, who cares.

A door slams again, this time nearer and within three seconds Jeonghan jumps away from you, practically throwing himself across the room just as your little sister wanders through the kitchen door and you hurry to turn around and throw on the oven mitts, feigning interest in the cake while Jeonghan’s hand flies to his face to wipe away any of the remaining lipstick over his mouth.

She gives you a sceptical stink face, her signature expression, reserved only for you and occasionally for Jeonghan recently since he’s practically part of your family too. The only person who didn’t get that treatment was your aunt since your sister thought she didn’t warrant it (your aunt was basically a saint, of course your sister never doubted a thing she said).

She doesn’t really say anything but as she trudges over to the fridge, you think you hear her mutter something that sounds like ‘weirdos’ or to that effect. You sigh in relief once she takes out a soda and takes her leave, telling you to leave her a slice of whatever it was for after she finishes studying.

“Sure thing, kiddo.” You call after her, making up the awkwardness with enthusiasm and volume. You swivel towards Jeonghan, who looks like he’s contemplating sinking into the ground. “What happened to ‘it’s fine, she’s not a baby’ blah blah blah?” You ask, feeling just a tad snarky.

“Jeonghan from two minutes ago had no idea what he was talking about.” He says, referring to himself in the third person.

He’s blushing considerably and you can’t help but find it cute. You pull him closer again, putting a mittened hand over each of his cheeks and smiling.

“You really should dye your hair red, it’s totally your colour.” You chuckle, poking each cheek gently in an attempt to help him relax. Jeonghan nods slowly, as if in thought.

“Maybe one day.”

Six: ~ 3 years ago ~

It felt like the sunniest day of the year, the heat rising visibly all around you as you got out of the car. Once you got to the sand, you felt the breeze gently coax away some of the raw hotness coming from above and below - the unbelievable warmth of the sand beneath your feet but also the blistering sun rays raining down on you.

Maybe you’d chosen the worst time for a beach picnic since it was too hot, but Jeonghan had insisted that there was no better way to cool down than to go swimming in the ocean. So of course you indulged him and took your little sister along for a little day off. Your office was hot and stuffy anyway, the air con barely working as it whirred away on its last legs.

You’re lying down with a demonology book under the umbrella Jeonghan insisted you bring, a lemonade by your side as you occasionally glance up at the shoreline where Jeonghan is trying to teach your sister how to fly a kite. He’d insisted he knows how to do it and you believed him since he was good at like everything. But you were starting to think that had been a generous assumption.

So far it was going…unexpectedly. They had attempted it several times but couldn’t seem to decide which direction exactly the wind was coming from, so the kite had not been launched successfully.

Eventually your sister figures out where the wind is definitely coming from, standing with her back to it while she holds the kite and urges Jeonghan to move further away. They’re so far away you can only hear snatches of their light hearted bickering. You’re reading a particularly riveting paragraph on the shared qualities of vengeful spirits and demonic presences when you hear whoops and cheers coming from the kite fliers.

You look up and see the kite flying high in the azure sky and smile to yourself.

They worked well together despite the occasionally childish squabbles, though you’d always took those as a sign that your sister was comfortable with Jeonghan, it had been years after all and he was practically family to her. You were sure it was her way of being affectionate. You were convinced that if they could fly a kite together, they could move a mountain, bickering or not.

It’s a few minutes later that your sister drops down on the towel next to yours, spraying sand in your direction as she gets comfortable on her back.

“What are you reading?” She asks you, trying to angle her head to read the title of the book.

“Demonology For Dummies. It’s the new edition by Professor Hong and I haven’t read it yet. Joshua sent me a signed copy from his aunt.” You say, not tearing your eyes away from the page.

Your sister groans loudly, flopping back further into the towel as she drapes an arm across her face dramatically. “You and your demons! I swear, will you stop obsessing? We work with ghosts, are those not enough for you?”

You click your tongue at her but you’re not annoyed. “You still don’t get it; this is one of the most fascinating and under-researched areas of exorcism. It’s important to know about it since you never know when you might run into demons.” You don’t mean to sound so harsh but it comes off as a huff.

“Alright, alright, fine. Just don’t come crying to me when you actually face a demon and you lose.” She replies with a yawn.

“Fat chance.” You mutter. She sits up suddenly, and you can feel the weight of her stare on you. You hated it when she did that - every once in a while she would get still, just watching and assessing what’s in front of her.

You always felt that she would overthink things in that big brain of hers, hesitating and never taking action at the right time. You were so opposite in that aspect, one of the biggest differences between the two of you, because you always knew when it was time to move and when it was time to jump in but your sister stood back and wanted to plan things.

You needed to encourage her to do things faster, to trust her instinct and move. That was your responsibility as her big sister.

“No way. I’m serious. It’s too dangerous. Just leave well enough alone.” She says just as Jeonghan bounds over, camera in hand.

“I never leave well enough alone.” You mumble as he reaches you. You think your sister doesn’t hear you but she glances at you, her face ominous.

“YN, sit up, I’ll take a photo of you two.” He beckons you to manoeuvre yourself to get in the shot. You put your book down reluctantly but sidle up to your sister and throw a warm arm around her shoulders. She bonks her head against yours and Jeonghan takes the photo, the camera clicking quietly under his finger. “Another one, c’mon, stand up.” He insists.

You’re not sure what’s got into Jeonghan or why he was being so enthusiastic today. He was usually far calmer and quieter but today he was acting like one of those wind up toys when you turn the key tightly enough. It was a little odd but you chalked it up to him being excited to be at the beach.

He took several more photos, each of them just of the two of you, smiling or making faces at each other and the camera. It felt cheesy, but that’s how family outings were supposed to be, you realised. You do cheesy things with the people you love because you can. Maybe you’d missed out a little on those growing up without your parents.

“Ugh, I’m hungry. You guys want to eat?” Your sister asks. Jeonghan perks up, his eyes flitting up from the camera.

“Ya know what, kiddo? I could eat.” He nods. “How about it?”

“Okay, there’s a convenience store across the parking lot, you can buy ice cream there.” She says nonchalantly and parks herself back down on the towel. You smirk behind your book, hearing the familiar lilt to your sister’s voice when she wanted to exercise her younger sibling powers - it was usually a rare occasion, though you’d observed it had become a more frequent phenomenon when Jeonghan was involved. She probably knew that he would humour her at least while you’d always shut down any attempts at it.

“Eh, c’mon, let’s be fair-” Jeonghan stuffs his hand in his pocket and pulls something out. “-I’ll flip you for it. Heads I win, tails you lose. Head or tails?” He asks hurriedly, already flicking the coin into the air.

You purse your lips, attempting to keep the scoff from escaping your mouth. Your little sister seems to not be paying attention to Jeonghan’s words and they fly right over her head as she stretches out on the towel again.

“Whatever, heads.” She says. Jeonghan catches the coin expertly and reveals the face of it.

“Ah, tails! Get up, kid, it’s your time to shine.” Your sister shoots up, trying to get a good look at the coin before he gets rid of it. Oh, so now she decides to be alert and examine if Jeonghan is trying to pull something shady.

Jeonghan reaches into his pocket again, his other one, and pulls out some cash. “Here you are, go crazy.” He says as he hands her the money. “Chocolate sauce, nuts, sprinkles, the whole shebang.” He blabbers. It strikes you like a lot of fuss over ice cream, then again it is your sister - her middle name is ‘ice cream’.

“Ugh, alright. I’ll be back.” She says, but there’s no real exasperation behind her words. You smile and wave at her as she leaves, knowing that deep down she was excited to get ice cream but was holding back to seem cool, for who, you had no idea.

You peer over at Jeonghan over the top of your book, wanting to poke fun at your sister together but you find him crouched over his bag at the base of the umbrella. He’s searching for something in that bottomless thing so you just go back to Professor Hong’s guide to incense and demonic entities.

“YN?” You hear Jeonghan say. You hum in response, waiting for him to say something. “Can you come here a second? I need a hand.” He asks.

“Sure thing, babe.” You prop your book facing down on the towel and heave yourself up. He’s still crouching over the bag and you stand next to him, waiting, your eyes wandering to the shoreline where the waves are breaking. It’s far away but you can still feel a little bit of the spray being carried by the wind over to you. “What did you need-”

You stop abruptly as you turn your attention back to Jeonghan and find him sitting in front of you, no - not sitting - kneeling on one knee in the sand. Your eyes bug out when they land on the tiny box he holds in the palm of his hand, extending it to you in an offering. Inside is a ring with a rose quartz gem framed by tiny, what you guessed were, white sapphires and a rose gold band.

“Yoon Jeonghan.” You say in warning, however your voice is quiet and you have nothing to follow that accusatory full name calling with.

“Told you I needed a hand.” He says sheepishly, taking one of your hands into his own. “Now, since you know my name, would you like to marry me?” He asks, a nervous smile starting to appear across his face. You’re completely tongue-tied for a moment. “I did have a whole spiel prepared, but now that I’m looking at you, I’m a little speechless.” He explains.“All I know is that I love you, so, so much and I want to spend every day with you. So, YN, will you do me that honour and spend the rest of your life with me?”

It’s overwhelming. That’s an understatement. There’s a knot at the back of your throat, the salt welling in your eyes already, but you know that happiness and love are contained in those tears.

“Yes.” It’s one simple word, but it feels like it is the most powerful thing in the universe in that moment. “Yes, of course I would, Hannie. I love you too,” You whisper. “So very much that sometimes I can’t breathe.” You continue, fighting the urge to cry. You sniffle slightly as Jeonghan grins up at you and takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger.

He straightens up once it’s securely on your hand and engulfs you into a hug. You wrap your arms around him so tightly, you’re afraid you might crush him but he returns your affection, holding you even closer. You stay in each other’s embrace, the wind blowing gently around you and the waves breaking against the shore in the distance.

“What should we tell her?” Jeonghan asks after a while, his voice close to your ear. You release him slowly, only enough to look at him.

“Is that why you sent my sister to buy ice cream?” You ask, suddenly putting together the pieces.

“Sort of, I guess. I don’t know, I panicked since I thought I wouldn’t get a moment alone with you.” He admits. You chuckle at his honesty, although you were pretty grateful you just had this moment to yourselves.

“I think we should wait until she notices the ring. Want to make a bet on how long it takes?” You ask.

“Oh, my love, you do know me so well.” Jeonghan sighs. “I think two hours, probably when we get home.”

You nod, taking a moment to think. “Hmm, I see your two hours and I raise you one day. She probably won’t zero in on my hands for ages.”

“Alright, deal. Loser grants winner a wish.”

“Perfect-”

“Ugh, I swear to fucking fuck of- why do people have licenses if they can’t fucking drive?” You hear your little sister’s roaring behind you and you put your hand to rest on Jeonghan’s back, completely out of her sight. He gives you a side eye glance but you don’t budge; even if you had set rules, he still would have found a way to cheat and win. You were so going to give him a run for his money.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” You ask her as she gets back and throws herself down on the towel, almost scarily angry. Her arms are folded over her chest, and you notice, completely empty. You frown. “Where’s the ice cream?”

“In the parking lot,” She grumbles. “Because some chump with a motorcycle came out of nowhere and almost fucking killed me. I swear, I hate those, I’m never getting on one in this life time.”

“Wanna make another bet?” Jeonghan whispers, his lips to your ear.

“Shoosh.” You whisper back. You didn’t want to imagine what great ideas your boyfrie- well, fiancé, would come up with to win that bet. “Are you okay?” You ask, but you can see there’s no bodily harm, just a bruise to her day off.

“I’m fine, I just want to find this guy and give him a piece of my mind.” She says, getting up. Suddenly you had a great idea.

“Okay, kiddo, why don’t you cool down? Let’s go swimming.” You offer, trying to coax her to relax.

“Alright, let’s do that.” She says and without another word, sets off toward the water. You look at Jeonghan and smile sweetly.

“Sweetie, I’m gonna have to put the ring back in its box since I don’t want to lose it in the ocean, is that okay?” You bat your eyelashes at him. He nods slowly, understanding.

“That’s clever, babe, but I’m still going to win.” He hands you the box that was still in his hands and kisses your temple.

“In your dreams, Mr Yoon.”

“I make my dreams a reality, Mrs Yoon.” He smirks at you, pleased with his line and props the ring back in while you’re left standing there, blinking at how undeniably hot that was of him. You loved and hated how smooth he could be sometimes, it made you weak at the knees. You find your voice after a moment.

“Who said I’m taking your name, sweetheart?” You sing-song as you walk away teasingly.

“Yah, wait!” Jeonghan calls after you but you keep going toward the ocean where your sister is already neck deep in.

You stand at the shoreline, the waves lapping at your feet, ready to run in and dive into the cool water, anticipating the shock to your system. As you’re about to head in, you spot your sister’s head bobbing determinately back towards you. She emerges from the water, stomping quickly back up the beach to where you’d left your towels and stuff, the beach rather empty since it was a week day and hardly anyone was around. (The perks of being exorcists included a flexible schedule.)

“What’s wrong?” You say as you watch her go past you. You decide to follow at a distance since she might be on some kind of post-ice cream-deprivation rampage. She heads straight to the cooler full of ice where you kept some bottled water and you stare as she chucks out the bottles onto the towels and lifts the cooler-

And then empties it over Jeonghan’s head, the ice pouring out over his unsuspecting figure. He yelps in surprise as the cold washes over him and you cringe away, hissing as you imagined the feeling.

“‘Heads I win, tails you lose?’” She cries, outrage seeping out of every pore. “Yoon Jeonghan, you absolute conman!”

“What? You agreed to the terms.” Jeonghan kneels, picking out ice from his hair and shaking it out onto the sand.

“I almost fucking died!” She huffs.

“Alright, I’ll buy it next time, jeez, kiddo.” He throws his hands up in surrender. Your sister backs off slightly, putting the cooler down but you notice Jeonghan’s hands lowering to the sand and-

You sigh, knowing what’s coming-

He picks up some unmelted and now sandy, mushed pieces of ice and slush and hefts them in your sister’s direction while she’s not looking. She feels when they bounce off her skin and she turns around, murder in her eyes.

“Yah, Yoon Jeonghan!!!” She cries, the accusation clear in her tone. Jeonghan laughs cutely, or more accurately annoyingly if you didn’t love him, and sprints away, with your sister following closely behind.

Sometimes you really felt like you were the only adult present. This was one of those times. Between your sister and Jeonghan, you didn’t know who’d win but you let them sort it out themselves, shrugging and lying back down to pick up your book.

They’ll chill out.

Eventually.

Seven - present day

Time doesn’t flow where you are.

Your soul is left in limbo; there are currents of energy keeping you afloat even though your body and physical presence is long gone. You exist in the in-between of the world you knew and the one you should be headed to soon.

And yet, even here, you see what you’ve left behind. There’s brief moments where you may put enough energy together to make your ghostly presence appear. It’s enough to see that time has passed and that if there’s any possibility of you letting go of this world, you must do it soon.

You’ve been holding on too long.

Judging from Jeonghan’s face when he comes to your grave and the way his breath frosts in front of him, it must be your death anniversary. The remains of your consciousness knew that much; the details of your death and that you’d died in winter.

He stands alone, shivering in his long coat. You’d seen him recently, that time you managed to materialise at home and he’d look at you with those big eyes of his, the sadness breaking the memory of what your heart was. All you’d wanted then is to wrap yourself around him and to tell him that you’re sorry, but you couldn’t. Of course you couldn’t-

You were dead.

He’d brought you flowers, white lilies that you’d told him were beautiful once. He placed them on top of the grey marble of your grave stone. Your sister hadn’t given him a key to the compartment underneath, so he couldn’t place them inside to shelter them from the wind and rain.

You wondered if she would come by too. Deep down, in the remnants of your consciousness knew that she would. You just had to hold on until then with the little energy your ghostly form had left. You were dissipating faster than you’d thought.

You watch as Jeonghan removes the ring from his finger, one of his protective talismans coming off smoothly and he leaves it on the marble next to the flowers. You know immediately what he’s trying to do. His necklace follows and for once you don’t resist being sucked into someone else’s body. You didn’t have the energy to resist right now.

You knew he couldn’t exorcise you alone - the only possibility for self-exorcism was with a demonic presence, not a normal spirit - so that’s not why he was doing it.

Your spirit slams into Jeonghan and suddenly you can’t see the outside world anymore, only darkness. Pitch black in all directions, the world in limbo transformed into a place deep in Jeonghan’s subconscious. You had no idea this was actually possible. Is this what every ghost saw when they entered a medium’s body? Were they even conscious like you were? Perhaps not.

You will every particle of energy of your body to materialise if you could in this empty space.

Suddenly there’s a strange glow all around you and the world fleshes out, your surroundings becoming real and recognisable once again. You find yourself at that beach, confused that in Jeonghan’s consciousness, this was where he wanted to go to.

Of course you knew why; this was a reminder of a different time, a much happier time.

The glow of your ghostly form shimmers into the air around you and you realise that even here, you’re just a ghost. A collection of energy and nothing more. Some distance away, you spot Jeonghan. He’s standing on the shoreline, the waves almost lapping at his feet.

Then he turns to you and you know he sees you as clearly as you see him.

It’s difficult to stay like this, you realise, your energy is weak and you feel like any moment you might disappear. Jeonghan perks up as he sees you, tripping over himself in the darkness so he could run toward you.

“YN!” He yells out. The echo resonated through the chamber of his mind and try your best to move forward. It feels like you’re wadding through cement and you want to reply so badly but your mouth is almost glued shut.

Since it’s his subconscious and you’re just a ghost, Jeonghan moves freely but you stay stuck still. You don’t think you’ll be able to do much, your body gone and energy already failing.

Suddenly Jeonghan is face to face with you and if you could really move, you’d throw yourself into his arms. But you can’t.

“YN, I can’t believe it worked.” He says, somehow breathless though he didn’t physically run. You look at him, trying to talk with your eyes even if you couldn’t say anything. He seems to understand and his face falls a little. “I looked up a ritual but I didn’t think it would work.” He continues. “I just…” He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words, his eyes filling with tears. “I wanted to see you so badly.” He whispers.

You imagine your own eyes are welling up. You reach out, wanting to touch Jeonghan’s cheek and your surprise, your arm follows your will. Your ghostly form feels more solid all of a sudden and your mind springs immediately to what ritual Jeonghan was talking about. Could you be able to gather a more physical presence just for a moment?

Your hand stretches up and you feel his cheek, warm underneath your fingertips.

“Hannie,” You try using your voice. At least your mouth moves, you feel it move; this wasn’t like the times you could materialise is the real world. This was different entirely and you’re incredibly aware that you can feel again. “Hannie!” You try again. This time sound comes out, it’s quiet but it’s there, right there in the vast darkness you find yourselves in.

Jeonghan leans into your touch, clearly being able to feel something too. His hand comes to cover yours, gently holding it against his cheek.

“I missed you so much.” He whispers. “Everything feels so wrong without you.” He says, the tears spilling from his eyes. It’s enough to spring an ache in your chest and it feels like you’re feeling what he must be feeling.

“I’m so sorry, Hannie.” You manage, your voice so quiet and distant even in the tiny space between you. “I shouldn’t have left you. It’s all my fault.” Jeonghan shakes his head helplessly.

“Don’t. We don’t have much time.” He says, sniffling. “I need to tell you something. I’ve been looking for answers for all these years, and I can finally finish what we started, my love. I’m sure of it. I wanted to do it so I could avenge your death and you could finally rest.”

“Hannie, there’s nothing to avenge. I did this, no one else. It’s not your fault, please stop blaming yourself. Please, sweetheart.” You beg him through shinning eyes. You knew he’d never want to admit your arrogance or your mistakes but it was true. You hadn’t even known yourself back then, had never realised where your faults truly lie. “The reason I’ve been here is because I couldn’t let go. I didn’t want to leave you and my sister just yet, but now, I think I can. Because I know you’ll be okay, I know you’ll make it through this together. Promise me the two of you will look after each other.”

“I promise.” Jeonghan says without hesitation, swallowing back tears. “I promise, YN.”

“I have to let you go, Hannie, so you should let me go too. Go, and live, and love. Promise me you’ll live enough for the both of us.” You felt like you were about to disappear, your voice getting weaker as you went on. “Please.” You whispered as your spirit started to dissipate. “I love you, always.” You said finally, knowing those would be your last words before you disappeared.

You watched as Jeonghan’s face crumbled and he was saying something through the tears, the sound dying as you swished away and were expelled from his subconscious but you knew what he’d said:

“I love you, forever.”

A/N: thanks for reading!! feedback is always appreciated <3 ughh i’m sorry i took an age to write this since uni’s been kicking my ass lately but it’s not all bad i promise, i will keep going with the fic as much as i can since we’re sorta in the home stretch now, i hope you do stick around for the ending, your support means the world, thank you for your patience, love y’all <333

Edit: i saw this in relation to Hannie's part time job mention above and i had to add it haha

#seventeen #yoon jeonghan #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen fics #momobani.writes #i almost tagged it with minghao lol #jeonghan

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